Page 35 of 3rd Tango
“Yeah. Your Mom’ll spot us in mine.” He points to the cup on my side. “I got you a green tea.”
“I love you, Matt Stephens.”
At that, he rolls his eyes. “You sure you want to do this with me? You look beat.”
“I am. I’m not built for this. Put me in my studio for endless hours and I’m in heaven. This chaos? Not my style. But this is my mom we’re talking about and I don’t trust Alfonzo. He’s up to something. It better not be him she’s meeting.”
Matt backs out, his silence confirming my residence in LaLa Land.
After sipping my tea, I wince as the hot brew hits my lips. “Just the way I like it. What’s the plan?”
“Charlie said you guys have that friend-finding app on your phones.”
Ah, yes. My sister’s paranoia, as much as I like to tease her about it, sometimes comes in handy. Particularly when she insists every member of our family be easily trackable in case someone—say a serial killer—kidnaps us.
I set my tea back in the holder and tap my phone, pulling up the app and—voila. Mom’s photo appears on the map. “She’s on the Beltway. Heading toward D.C.”
Matt hits the gas. “That’s good and bad.”
“Why?”
“Good because we’ll blend into traffic. Bad because we’ll blend into traffic. Harder to keep up. We’ll see.”
At this time of morning, we manage to pick up my mom’s location without incident.
M Street in Georgetown.
Parked cars line both sides and pedestrians wander the cobblestone sidewalks, their arms filled with goodies they’ve picked up in the shopping mecca of the area.
I check my phone again. There. A few cars ahead. “I think she’s stopped. She may have snagged street parking.”
“Okay. Well, not ideal. Looks like we’re following on foot. Let’s get a visual on her and then figure out what we’re doing.”
Matt avoids the line of stopped vehicles in front of us by pulling into a no-parking zone in front of a fire hydrant.
The problem with our handy-dandy app is it doesn’t give exact addresses. I have a street name, but unless my mother sends me her exact location, we won’t know where on this part of the block she actually is. And with the number of stores and restaurants, we’ll lose her in seconds.
I hit the lock button on the door. “I’m gonna hop out so we don’t miss her.”
“Meg, hang on.”
I’m sure Matt has a justifiable argument and, God knows, if Charlie were here, she’d accuse me of being too spontaneous. All I know is I want information. Specifically, who my mother is meeting. I don’t want to admit my suspicions. As if avoiding the obvious—that she’s sneaking around with Al—will make it go away.
“You park,” I tell Matt. “I’ll follow her.”
I shut the door before an argument is launched. In front of me are two moms pushing strollers, behind them a jogger and a woman walking four dogs.
That’s talent.
And, whoopsie. Behind that is my mother. Coming straight at me.
Damn.
Probably should’ve listened to whatever argument Matt had been about to make.
But…too late now.
“Hey!”
