He shrugged indifferently. “Truth.”
“Tell us about the most devastatingly embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.” She grinned devilishly. “Or don’t and I’ll give you a dare that will set a new benchmark.”
He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “Christmas break. Last year. I was on my way back to LA and I fell asleep. Middle seat. Back of the plane. I dreamed that... I shit my pants. And for whatever dumb psychological reason, my body decided that dreaming about shitting my pants wasn’t enough—”
“Oh no,” Vera said through a gasp.
He nodded. “It was so bad they had to make an emergency landing in Salt Lake City and wait for a new plane.”
“You said that was because of some kind of mechanical issue,” I said, feeling slightly jealous at how easy it had been for him to fess up to something like this. He wasn’t even that embarrassed! I grew up in a medical family where bodily fluids were regular topics of dinner discussion and even I was mortified on his behalf.
“Yeah, did you think I was pumped to tell everyone it was because I shit my pants?”
Vera watched him and then slowly began to nod before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Well, Brody. You set a high bar. I guess I’m next.”
He turned to her, his legs spread so that her knees were tucked nicely between his thighs as he braced his hands on the tops of her legs, one thumb stroking back and forth along the worn, thin denim of her favorite jeans that I’d seen her in so, so many times. The ones with the small bleach spot near the hem from when she’d helped us tie-dye matching jumpsuits for the Sigma Phi track-and-field day last month.
“Truth or dare?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply, a wild look in her eyes. “Dare.”
“Get us kicked out of this casino.”
I looked from Brody to Vera, who was such a diligent rule follower that she once waited the required fifteen minutes before class could be officially canceled for a professor who had already emailed the class to say she’d gone into labor.
She bit down on her lip and nodded repeatedly, like she was psyching herself up. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“Just do a truth,” I told her. “I really don’t want to bail you out of jail.”
But she didn’t hear me. She was already standing up and storming out of the pizza place.
“Fucking yes!” Brody grabbed his half-eaten slice of pizza and pumped a fist into the air as he jogged after her.
I dropped a few bucks into the tip jar at the counter and then followed them both.
I was not nearly drunk enough for this.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next morning, I exited the shuttle bus with about sixteen residents in swimsuits and cover-ups. We were returning from a bikini car wash, which had been a highly requested activity. The money would be donated to some local foster care funds since there wasn’t actually anything the residents needed to fundraise for. There was just a small but die-hard group determined to participate in a bikini car wash. Admittedly, our shuttle driver did most of the washing and many of the cars still had a film of desert dust when they drove away, but we didn’t get any complaints.
With an hour to go before lunch, I was on my way to set up a flower-arranging class a local florist had agreed to teach when I ran right into Morgan as she turned the corner from the front offices.
“Vera,” she said. “I need you on morning duty.”
“Like tomorrow morning? Or this morning? And duty for what?”
She shook her head as she checked a text on her watch. “No,mourning. As in sad. I need you to go to a funeral.”
“Um... do I know the deceased?”
She sighed and I could see she was getting a little impatient. “When a resident passes away, Dr. Buckley and I try to go to the funeral or wake if we can, but I’m double-booked, so Dr. B is flying solo.”
“And he needs a chaperone?”
“Yes. A hundred percent yes. He says weird shit sometimes. One time, he tried to comfort a resident’s granddaughter and ended up telling herabout some kind of sound you make when you’re dying called a death rattle. It was very much the opposite of comforting.”
I nodded. We hadn’t seen each other since the other night. Not that anything should be awkward. Nothing even happened. Well, except for the part where I tried to get off to the thought of Eli in the shower.
