Page 29 of Slots & Sticks
“She’s my… virtual assistant.” Perfect. That makes me sound like a functioning adult. I do feel a small pang of guilt for downplaying Mira’s importance to me, but it’s not like she has feelings I can really hurt.
“I thought you said I was your friend,” Mira says.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.“Don’t be hurt. He can’t see you. I’m only explaining what you are.”
Mira’s not buying it. She lays the guilt on thick. “I’m not hurt. Just because you don’t want some guy on the phone to know we’re friends. What do I care? And just because you don’t want to listen to me, thereby causing a delay to your arrival, which could potentially lead to the death of the canine you want to save… It’s no trouble to me.”
The car jolts as Camden taps the break. “Did she say we’re going the wrong way?”
I didn’t realize that we’d already reached the highway. Camden turned toward Serenity Shores, which was a reasonable guess, but we need to go the other way to get to Reno.
“Sorry. I got distracted.” I fumble with my phone.
“I should go,” George says.
Yes,you should. I’m not sure what to make of George. If he was a real asshole, I don’t think Camden would be friends with him, but since the first words I ever heard him utter involvedmyasshole, I think I have a right to be salty.
“Later, G.” Camden taps something on the wheel that ends the call. “Sorry about him. He thinks he’s funny.”
“He’s a comedian. Other peoplealsothink he’s funny.” I punch in the address for the Humane Society. It takes a moment to load, and when it finally does, I groan. What was supposed to be a seven-hour drive is now going to be almost eight, thanks to a wrong turn and a stretch of road marked in red to indicate an accident.
“Shit.” I tap the back of my head against the headrest.
Mira states, “Route recalculated. Seven hours to Reno.”
“Wait, we’re driving toReno?” Camden’s eyes bulge.
My jaw clenches. I press my palm to my temple.
That photo, that voice — it rattled me more than I expected.
And now we’re lost.
I should’ve focused. Stayed in command.
My stomach coils at every mile the GPS stretches ahead.
“We will be when we get turned around,” I mutter. I can’t take my eyes away from the strip of red on the route. How bad was the accident? Was anyone hurt?
Camden looks at me sidelong. “You didn’t mention we were driving to Reno.”
“In my defense, you didn’t ask.” I press my palms to my eyes. I’m ready to crawl back into my dad’s house and hide from the world. Today is not going the way I’d hoped. I’ve been so focused on picking up the dog—who the shelter has been calling Krusty, which gets a big nope from me—that I didn’t think abouthowI’ll transport him. I don’t have a crate. He’ll be riding on my lap forseven hours.We won’t be home until two in the morning.Later, now, thanks to my failure to navigate. And who knows how long we’ll take at the shelter.
“I know.” Camden bites his lip. “Sorry, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I just wasn’t expecting a last-minute trip to Reno with everything else going on.”
“So, there’s this dog…”
“Oh?” He breaks into a grin. “Tell me more.”
“He’s a Chinese Crested.”
“Like Nudi?”
I smile and lean back in my seat. My fingers drum against the door. The smile is fragile, fluttering down like a moth on glass. “You remembered.”
“Nudi’s a tough dog to forget.” Camden also relaxes. “Cute but scary. Like a diseased Furby.”
I snort at the mental image. “Or a naked troll doll. Anyway, this one’s only about three years old, whichwouldbreak Dad’s streak of adopting ancient rejects, but he has some skin-care issues and is missing a few teeth. So his, uh, tongue doesn’t stay in his mouth? And one of his eyes is all weird?”
