Page 330 of Devil’s Disciples

His face wore a look of disbelief. “You’re a thief?”

“The detective thing’s for self-gratification. I detest courts, cops, the government, and laws, for the most part. I’m a rule hater. I steal things for the rush. Gum. Lifesavers. Things like that. The slight-of-hand stuff is just for fun.”

He grinned and shook his head. “You’re funny.”

“I was being serious,” I said dryly.

“You’re still funny.” He lifted his chin slightly. “I like how you talk a hundred miles an hour. It makes you seem confident. That’s a good quality to have.”

I blushed a little. “Thanks.”

“Let me get your number.” He reached for his phone. “Before I forget.”

My shoulder slumped. “I don’t have a phone.”

He gave me a dismissive look. “I guess that’s one way not giving out your number.”

“No, really. I don’t have a phone,” I explained. “I think they’re stupid. Go to any restaurant or bar and look for a couple that’s obviously out on a date. Sooner or later, they’ll both be on their phones instead of talking to each other. It’s dumb. I hate those things.”

“You’re saying you don’t own one?” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a phone? Any phone?”

“Nope.”

“Not at all? A throw-away for emergencies?”

“Nope. I’m technologically challenged. No phone. No laptop. No computer. I’ve got a TV and a DVD player for my movies. I’ve got an old-school VHS player, too. For some of my old movies.”

He stared blankly. “Holy shit.”

“Pretty much, that’s what everyone says,” I said with a laugh.

“Hard to imagine someone getting by without one.”

I took exception to his remark. It would be one thing if people simply carried phones, and then used them when they needed to. That wasn’t the case. Whenever there’s a lull in conversation, people reach for their phones. It was contributing to the dumbing down of a generation—or generations—of people.

The thought of it made me ill.

“Imagine if it was 1920,” I said. “How did people get by without cell phones, tablets, lap tops or their trusty Kindles? Just fine. When they wanted to talk to someone, they went to see them. When they wanted to read, they went to the library. When they needed to know something, they looked it up in an encyclopedia. Technology has taken the quality of time two people are able to spend together and turned it to shit. I grew up watching old VHS movies and reading books. That’s what my father and I did for quality time together, we watched old movies.”

He laughed dryly. “For quality time when I was a kid, I had to go elsewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“We didn’t watch movies in the house I grew up in. We all met at a Ghost’s house for movies.”

“Oh. Were your parents strict?”

“They weren’t strict, they were drunken idiots.”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry. Do they still…are they still that way?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Left when I was eighteen. Haven’t seen ‘em or talked to ‘em since.”

I nodded in acknowledgement of what he’d said but didn’t press forward with the subject. I didn’t want to continue down that somber trail.

Not having a relationship with his parents—regardless of their faults—was unimaginable. I wondered if he was stubborn, held grudges, or if they had done something he simply couldn’t forgive them for.

He took a bite of his burger. After swallowing it, he studied the portion that remained in his hands. He seemed to drift away for a moment. “So, you’re a car girl?”