Page 85 of Road Trip with a Vampire
Better not to dwell on what came next.
No good would come of it.
Somehow we managed to checkout in time to avoid a late fee from the hotel.
My phone said we’d get to Chicago in three hours. Peter agreed to drive so I could let Reggie know we were on our way.
Zelda:Hey Reg
Zelda:Still up for some visitors?
Once we got on the freeway Peter put on Chappell Roan. I almost asked him when he’d decided he wasn’t above pop music but decided to leave it. What if he’d done it on accident? I didn’t want to draw attention to the mistake and make him switch to something depressing.
“I really like this Chapeau Roanoke music,” Peter said too casually. “Has a good beat and you can dance to it.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He was using an oldAmerican Bandstandline to describeChapeauRoanoke? I was too stunned that he likedPink Pony Clubto address any of this. Besides—he’d been close enough with her name.
“You seriously like this?” I asked.Ihappened to think she was one of the greatest pop talents of the past decade, but I couldn’t imagine someone who thought Morrissey was the height of road trip music liking her stuff at all.
“Yes,” he confirmed, nodding emphatically. After a beat he asked, “Doyoulike this?”
The way he asked it—a slight lilt in his voice; a hesitancy I’d seldom heard him use—made me wonder at therealreason he’d put this music on.
“I do,” I confirmed, placing a hand over the one of his that was closest to me. “Very much.”
He grinned and relaxed back into his seat. Clearly that had been the answer he’d been hoping to hear. “We’ll listen to her all the way to Chicago, then.”
Before I could decide whether Peteractuallyliked Chappell Roan or whether he was simply trying to make me happy—and if so, whatthatmeant—my phone buzzed inside my purse with new texts.
Reg:So you’re coming after all
Reg:Fab!
Saved by the Reginald.
Zelda:We are
Zelda:We got a later start this morning than we’d planned but we should be there by early evening
Zelda:That work for you?
Reg:Of course. I’ll make spaghetti for you and Amelia and two sauces—one for you, one for me and Petey.
Reg:(Don’t ask what I put in the sauce I’ll make for me and Petey—I think it’s delicious but you prob won’t agree)
I shuddered at the thought.
Reginald’s apartment was in a part of Chicago called Wrigleyville, which I wasn’t familiar with. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been bouncing between places, with most of his time spent caring for his friend Frederick, who he’d accidentally put into a coma as part of a practical joke gone wrong. I’d always found Frederick an insufferable blowhard who could benefit from a good old-fashioned accidental coma, but Reggie had felt guilty enough about what he’d done that I made a point never to bring it up.
It was still hard to believe that my once devil-may-care friend now lived with a human girlfriend in an upscale neighborhood. And attended scrapbooking conventions. And took on amnesiac charity cases like Peter.
“I hope this doesn’t end up being too awkward,” I said, nervously fidgeting with my purse strap when we finally pulled up in front of Reg’s building.
“Why would it be awkward?” Peter was eyeing me curiously. “He’s the one who sent me to you in the first place. Seems only fair for him to let us spend the night.”
I’d given Peter a brief summary of my history with Reggie, but while Peter knew it had been a while since I’d seen my old friend,I’d glossed over some important details. Like how I hadn’t seen him in a decade, hadn’t said goodbye when I’d left, and up until recently hadn’t spoken to him since.
“It’s just…been a while,” I said lamely.
