“About two more hours,” she says, answering a question that I’d quite forgotten I asked.
I shake my head, regret it instantly, and suck in a breath while my cock calms all on its own thanks to the headache.
Ah, yes.
I remember what I was about. “Would you like to walk around the carnival with us when you’re done?”
The couple beside me giggles.
Bea’s cheeks flush. “I?—”
“Yes, she would,” Hudson says. “She’s free in an hour, actually. Daphne’s coming to relieve her.”
“She is not,” Bea hisses at Hudson.
“She will when I tell her you need her to.”
“Margot’s in town.”
“Margot’s a workaholic who’ll be relieved to have time to hit a coffee shop and catch up on email.”
The couple waiting for their food titters harder. I’m aware they’re studying me, and I refuse to look back.
After a round of silent communication between Bea and Hudson, she smiles back at me again.
It’s an edgy smile. Not an altogether happy smile. Possibly a suspicious smile. “Can you check back in an hour?”
“Certainly. Thank you.”
I retrieve the last of the food with Tank and Charlie waiting for me, and we join Eddie, Butch, and Pinky on a small patch of grass that they’ve claimed behind the car park.
The chips and soft drink help immensely, and by the time we’re done, it’s been nearly an hour.
I spot Daphne stepping into the back of the bus, and a few moments later, Bea departs the same way that I assume I did last night.
Except for the part where she’s awake and not being carried or dragged along by a security team.
She’s traversing the ground on her own two legs.
I jump to my feet, only to realize that my body is still operating on bubbly time. My body teeters, then totters, and I quickly resume my position sitting on the ground, sending a shockwave from my tailbone up to my neck.
Mostly because my legs have insisted upon it.
And my head is in solid agreement.
Too soon for quick movements.
A dark haze clouds my vision momentarily, and when I blink through it, Bea’s kneeling before me, holding out a basket and a bottle. “More fries and another Coke?”
And I’m once again reminded that I don’t care that I was angry with her before.
Not when she’s an angel with a hangover cure.
15
THE FUTURE’S LOOKING CORN-DOGGY
Bea
