“Ohmigod, Dani!” I could hear the sounds of the restaurant she worked at in the background. “I was worried sick. I take it your cell phone died again?”
“Yeah.” I glanced to my right and could see Booker talking with someone across the room out of earshot. “It’s officially dead, dead.”
“Where are you calling me from?” she asked.
“Um, some wrecking place I managed to break down in front of.”
“Of course you did,” Kimmie said with a chuckle. “Did you call Ell?”
“Um, I can’t.”
“How come?”
“The shop is owned by a motorcycle club,” I whispered, and glanced at the door again to make sure Booker wasn’t listening.
“So?” she whispered back.
“Hello, I’ve seen that Sam Crow show... they’re not entirely above board.”
Kim burst out laughing, the tell-tale snort indicating she was unable to control her mirth.
“Kimmie,” I snapped.
“Ohmigod, Dani, you are precious. Truly,” she said, and laughed again.
“Oh, shut up,” I ground out. “You know if I call Elliot, he’ll get all—”
“Dani? Keys, babe,” Booker demanded.
I jumped a little because I hadn’t seen him walk back over to me. “Um, hold on a sec,” I said to Kim, and rummaged in my purse. Winding the car key from the rest of my keys, I handed it to him, and he nodded then left me again. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Who was that?” Kim asked.
“One of the men who works here.”
“Um, he knew your name and he called you babe,” she pointed out. “I’m thinking you’re being purposely obtuse.”
“His name’s Booker,” I said.
“He sounds delicious.”
“Meh,” I lied.
“Call Elliot, Dani. Or I can come get you when I get off in an hour.”
“No,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll call Ell.”
“Good. Borrow his phone and call me when you get home, okay? I’ve gotta grab my orders.”
“I will.” I was midway through dialing my brother when Booker returned, so I hung up and forced a smile.
“You call your brother or friend or whoever?” he asked.
“Kim. Yes. She’s still at work. I was just about to call my brother.”
“Why don’t you do that and then you can give me some information while we wait for him.”
I nodded and picked up the phone again. I got his voicemail. “Hey Ell, it’s me. I broke down in Portland and was wondering if you could come get me. I’m at...,” I glanced up at Booker for assistance, and he handed me a card. I rattled off the address and phone number of Big Ernie’s Wreck ’n’ Tow, and then hung up again. “Voicemail.”
