She shrugged. “So? The gods of music have a soft spot for sentimentalists and the downtrodden.”
“What?” Something was wrong with the Jeep’s steering. Weird.
“That’s what my dad says. Maybe their son will be a music lover one day. Or already is.”
Damn. She was making sense. I loved everything she was saying, and I wanted to keep talking about it, but all of my focus was on what was going wrong with this vehicle. Because something was. Wrong.
“Fen?” she asked.
“It’s never done this before—what?”
“What’s going on? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
The Jeep cut out. Engine died. No power steering, brakes were stiff.
I managed to coast to a stop and pull it over to the side of the freeway. Once I got it there, though, I was clueless.
“Any idea what’s gone wrong?” Jane asked.
“No idea,” I said, quietly panicking. “It’s never happened before. I’ve been driving it a couple years with no problems.”
I tried to restart it. Cranked but wouldn’t turn over.
“You have gas?” she asked.
I gestured toward the half-full fuel gage. No, this was serious. I popped the hood, but I didn’t really know what I was looking for. Everything checkable looked okay to me. Nothing was on fire or corroded. I had oil. No belts were missing.
The Jeep was dead, dead, dead.
“I think I need to call a tow,” I told Jane as she jumped out with Frida, careful of the cars flying past. “I’m really sorry. This has never happened.”
She shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand. “It’s an old car. It always happens.”
But now, of all times? My bank account, which I quickly checked through the app… contained enough for a couple of cheap meals. Not a tow. Spiraling downward. “Shit. I’ve got to make a call.” I tried Aunt Pari. The store was closed on Sundays, and she wasn’t answering. I tried Aunt Zabel. Nothing. Were they together?
No way was I calling Mama. Not when I already had asked her for a favor. Plus, she’d murder me if she knew I was hanging with Jane. “I’m going to try my cousin. He owes me some money anyway. Hold on.”
“You need it for the tow?”
“No way am I borrowing money from you,” I told her.
“No, I mean, let’s call my dad. He’s a mechanic. Old cars are his thing.”
I crossed my arms. “Uh, you sure about that? I mean, what with… Eddie.” Welp. Board reset to zero. We went all of howmany hours without mentioning his ass? Fuck my beshitted life. And this Jeep. If I could flip it over into the ravine and set it on fire right now, I would.
She hesitated, blinking rapidly, as if she was unsure. Then she shook her head and smiled, brushing away sweat from her brow. “I’m just helping my boyfriend’s brother, for the love of Pete. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re, uh… What’s that thing when it’s okay to be hanging around each other because we’re practically related, and we’re not doing anything wrong?” She put her hands on her hips and blew out a long breath.
“But we’renot. Doing anything wrong.” I stilled. “Unless you want to? Because my afternoon just opened right the hell up.”
She chuckled.
I wasn’t really joking, but I pretended like I was. Look at me, goofing around. I’mso-o-olighthearted, and not the least bit tragic and ready to pledge my undying love for you in the middle of this open road with blood rituals and a ring of fire.
“I know we aren’t doing anything wrong,” she said, “but no one willthinkthat, because we’re that thing—Frida, baby, stay away from the freeway, unless you want to be roadkill!” she said, tugging the leash and snapping her fingers. “How has she stayed alive without me? Anyway, no one will suspect anything, because—not that there’s anything to suspect.”
“Because… we aren’t doing anything wrong?” I repeated, on the verge of passing out.
