“You’ve nailed the small-town look.”
“Thank you.” I tuck my toiletries into my overnight bag. “Now escort me downstairs, and don’t let any of these Pitchfork numbskulls so much as talk to me.”
He grins and opens the door to let me pass. “I’m just a boy, holding the door for a girl, asking her to let me beat up a few numbskulls.”
I try to ignore the ridiculous number of times my heart skips a beat.
Chapter 16
ZACHERY’SKENFRAGILITY
There’s nobody downstairs but Watson yawning behind the front desk, so only the beaver bids us farewell. Kelsey gets in her car, taking a moment to repack her overnight bag with new clothes.
It’s a good system, and I consider copying it, only I don’t have a smallish bag. Maybe I’ll pick one up somewhere.
Kelsey calls me as we hit the highway, so we can talk as we drive. The conversation makes the road trip feel like we’re together despite our separate cars. I consider hiring a driver to pick up my car so wecanbe together.
But then I remember that her endgame is a flannel-wearing husband and not me.
I should preserve my ability to bail.
Even though this scenario was the whole reason behind why I paid off the fortune teller, the way it’s played out so far has been more difficult than I expected.
Of course, I didn’t anticipate doing this on the road, much less sleeping in the same bed and having pillow fights. It’s been only twenty-four hours since she started this jaunt, and we’ve made wild leaps in our relationship. She better find someone I approve of, or this whole situation is going to flame out.
“Hey, Zachery.” Her voice is bubbly over the road noise.
“Yeah?”
“Remember that singing war fromPitch Perfect?”
“You’re not going to suggest we sing, are you?” I’m not worried about this. I had fourteen years of vocal training. For nothing, since I did craptastic comedies, but Mom made sure I exploited what she considered the talent she passed to me.
“No, no, I was thinking I play a song, then you have to play the next song in the story.”
“You have a lot more faith in my song recall than I do.” I’m hopeless at knowing the top forty of any decade, other than the early 2000s, when I was in high school and obsessed with burning CD mixes for girls, mostly Foo Fighters and Radiohead, right until I got my first iPod.
Kelsey laughs. “Au contraire, I’m about to go straight into your wheelhouse.”
“You are?”
“We’re going to do this epic battle solely with songs frommusicals.”
She’s making a big mistake. My mother performed on Broadway right up until she got pregnant with me. Show tunes were literally the soundtrack of my childhood. “You’re aware that I’m going to kick your ass, right?”
“I’ve been hanging out with Jester. My knowledge has grown.”
“What do you know beyondPhantom of the OperaandCats?”
“Plenty. I’ll even let you start.”
I shake my head. She’s about ten car lengths ahead of me on this tiny highway through the pine trees of Arizona. She waves, her head turned toward the rearview mirror as though she might be looking at me.
I think for a moment about what to play first. I should avoid any romantic themes, particularly after our rather intimate morning. But I can’t make it too hard for her to follow up.
I have it. “We begin our tale with a little town in trouble, but not for the reasons they think.”
“Ooooh,” Kelsey says.