Page 50 of Wham Line
“Whatdoes Keme have?”I asked in my best parental voice.(It’s not great; it lands somewhere between Peg Bundy and Roseanne Conner.)
“Say nothing,” Keme whispered not quietly enough.
Millie said, “Uh, nothing.”
“Is it a knife?”I asked.
“We’re going to find Larry now.”
“Is it a gun?If it’s a gun, tell him—no, wait, I want to talk to him myself.”
“Bye, Dash.Love you!”
“No, we don’t—” Keme began.
And the call disconnected.
I called Bobby back.“Hey, you’re up.How are you doing?”
Bobby’s voice still had a hint of muzziness.“Fine.Where are you?”
“Out running a few errands.”
Silence.
All muzziness was gone when he said, “In what car?”
“I rented one.I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you might need the Pilot for your own errands.”
Bobby’s unspoken questions practically vibrated across the call.Finally he said, “Whereare you?”
“Oh!”That was me, a natural-born actor with an impresario’s flair for the dramatic.“I found the flowers you were looking for.Lotus flowers, right?”
“You did?”
“Yeah.This place online.”
“That’s great.Thank you.”
“Take a look at the confirmation to make sure I got the right ones, would you?And the address?It’s in my email; just jump on my laptop.”
The best word for Bobby’s silence wasprofound.
“Gotta run,” I said.“I’ll be back later.”
Laterwas good.Laterwasn’t specific.Latercould mean next year.
“What—” Bobby began.
I disconnected.
Look, I know it was rude.I know it wasn’t good boyfriend behavior.But on the one hand, fair was fair.The less said about Bobby’s behavior the night before, the better.And I thought I’d done an admirable job of pretending not to have had my guts ripped out.
So, I tried not to think about the call or Bobby or any of it, really.
Instead, I focused my morbid curiosity on my conversation with Millie and Keme for the next hour and a half.Specifically, whatever Keme had that I wasn’t supposed to know about.
I mean, it couldn’t be a gun, could it?
