“Okay. Tomorrow, we’ll give the GPS coordinates of Costco, Target, and your nail salon to Cam and he can stay in the van and spoof your signals while we go talk to Zoey.” I pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the water. “Get clean and come to bed. We have a lot to accomplish in the morning.”
CHAPTER 20
The next morning, I offered to chaperone Vero on her essential errands. Ramón had left before dawn for his shop in Virginia. Norma and Gloria had already left for work. And Javi had agreed to let Vero out of his sight only when Vero suggested he join us for eyebrow waxes and manicures. Satisfied to stay home and guard his masculinity and the house, he hadn’t posed an objection when Vero, Cam, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and I piled into my minivan for our errand run.
Cam reclined on the third-row bench seat with his laptop open on his thighs. He had his feet propped on the armrest in front of him, and Arnold was curled at his side. Vero strapped on the transmitter belt and buckled herself into the passenger seat.
“Where to?” Cam called up to us.
“Make it look like I’m in Costco,” Vero answered. “That place is huge. If Oates decides to check up on me, it’ll be easy to explain why she couldn’t find me.”
“I can’t just drop you in the middle of a Costco and leave you there. It’ll look suspicious.”
“So, make it look like I’m actually shopping. Start in meats and produce, then frozen foods, canned goods, the pharmacy, and don’tforget all the weird random stuff they put in the middle. And I always stop at the bakery,” she added. “It’s right next to the liquor and wine. Oops! I forgot. You’re not old enough to be familiar with that department.”
Cam flipped her off.
He noticeably perked up when I pulled into the drive-through at the Taco Bell. Even Arnold stirred from his nap to sniff the air.
We picked up Vero’s order and continued on to Frat Row. Instead of parking without a permit, I idled along the curb. Vero passed the fast-food bag into the back seat to Cam. He brightened as he reached for it, but she promptly pulled it back.
“This isnotfor you. You’re going to take the bag to that sorority house and tell whoever answers the door it’s an order for Zoey Kline. Then you’re going to bring your ass right back here before anyone asks you any questions.”
Cam laughed, indignant. “I’m not your freaking DoorDash driver! I’m a highly skilled professional. I didn’t come all this way just to be your manservant.”
“I don’t recall asking you to volunteer.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“Food service experience. I hear that’s a promising career track for retired juvenile felons.”
“Enough,” I said before they could start throwing Zoey’s food at each other. “We’ll stop on the way home and I’ll get you a cheeseburger,” I promised him.
“Make it three cheeseburgers and an order of fries,” he said, temporarily mollified. “But no onions. They give Arnold gas.” Cam shut his laptop and snatched the bag from Vero. “I fucking hate sorority girls,” he grumbled. “Just a bunch of spoiled, stuck-up, obnoxious brats.” He got out of the minivan and slammed the door behind him.
Cam lumbered up the front steps, hunching in his oversized graphic T, the loose laces of his Doc Martens dragging on the ground, as if he could imagine about a million other places he would rather be. He looked like most DoorDash drivers, assuming no one noticed that he’d arrived in a mom-mobile.
Cam rang the buzzer. Vero sank low in her seat as the door to the sorority house swung open. A young woman answered. Cam handed her the bag, presumably letting her know the food was for Zoey before he turned and jogged back to the minivan.
The side door slid open, and Cam climbed back inside.
“This is a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just called her on the phone and let me and Arnold have the gorditas?”
“Because we didn’t get her number last time we were here.”
Vero sat up when the door to the sorority house opened again. Zoey came out, holding her take-out bag. She wore a brightly colored cardigan over a vintage graphic tee. It bore the name of an old punk band whose members were probably now part of the AARP, performing afternoon concerts for senior-citizen communities somewhere in Florida. The click of Cam’s keyboard paused as Zoey spotted us and made a beeline toward my van.
She hauled open the sliding door and climbed into the back seat. Vero lifted her armrest and moved to sit with Zoey as she opened her meal.
“Thanks for the food,” she said as she squirted pizza sauce on her gordita and deftly reassembled it. “I was up late playingMonster Hunter. The game developers released an amazing update last night, and I slept through breakfast.” Her eyes rolled up in bliss as she stuffed her gordita into her mouth.
Cam stared at her, dumbstruck. Arnold let out a yip.
Zoey turned in her seat. She dropped her gordita and blinked at Cam. “Who’s this?” she asked, wiping pizza sauce from her lips.
He rushed to answer before Vero had a chance. “I’m Cam. I’m Vero’s friend. And this is my buddy Arnold.” Cam threw Vero a pleading look as Zoey cooed and swooned over his dog. Arnold’s tiny tail wagged frantically. I thought hearts would burst from Cam’s eyes when Zoey reached between the seats and offered Arnold a small corner of her tortilla.
“Did you have any luck finding Theo?” Zoey asked us as she ate.
