But there’s no turning back time.
An hour into the trip, I broach the issue.
“So, about that heifer comment…” I let the sentence hang, hoping she’ll do the work for me.
“Huh?”
“That comment you made about me wanting another heifer.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I processed the invoices for the steer.”
“Yeah, but why’d you say that?”
She shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
For a long moment, she’s silent, which bothers the hell out of me because I thought we could somehow talk our way through this.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Instead of addressing the situation, she says, “I need you to pull over.”
“Oh, come on! Quit acting so grumpy. You can’t go stomping off in the middle of nowhere because you’re mad at me.”
“Pull over.”
“Nope. You can be as mad as you want, but I’m not playing that game.”
“Pull—” Penny sits straight up and sucks in a breath.
“You ok?—”
Before I get my words out, she’s curled forward, vomiting cake and barbecue onto my truck floor.
“Goddammit!” I pull over to the side of the road and pat her back.
After a solid thirty seconds of retching, she gasps.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask.
She glares at me.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the scent.
Without warning, I curl forward, vomiting the contents of my stomach all over the center console.
“Ewww!” Penny cries, jumping out of the vehicle.
When I can breathe again, I exit the truck and assess the damage. With only a few napkins stored in my glove box, I mop up what I can, hoping there will be a car wash nearby.
This is fine.
Everything is fine.
Penny rides in the back seat, her head sticking out the window.
The detailer says he’s booked, so I hand him 300 dollars, and he moves me to the front of the line and gives me directions to a nearby strip mall to buy clothes and toiletries.
