Rayne & Delilah's Midnite Matinee(57)

Trish takes another bite of baked potato and talks around it. “Some good stuff maybe gonna happen for your show from going to this con?” Trish watches us sometimes. It’s one reason she hired me.

“I heard back from Jack Divine’s assistant. We’re meeting him Saturday afternoon.”

“I spent many a drunk Saturday night in college watching SkeleTonya with my roommates. You gonna quit on me if you get big?”

“If I get big, I’m going to use all of my money to arrange improbable animal encounters.”

“Like…”

“Baby elephant meets baby dolphin. Chimp feeds bottle to baby sloth. Baby kangaroo and baby hippo take nap cuddled on pile of straw. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“I went to a state fair once where they had monkeys dressed as cowboys riding dogs like horses,” Trish says casually, like it’s a normal thing to have witnessed.

“Get. Out.”

“Swear.”

“Well, that goes on the list.”

“Trust me when I tell you that you haven’t lived until you’ve eaten a fried Snickers bar on a stick while watching monkeys in tiny cowboy hats race around a track riding dogs.”

I feign offense. “You’re telling me I would love eating a fried candy bar while watching cowboy monkeys ride dogs? Literally, that is my personal brand.”

I don’t have many heroes, but Trish is one of them. She started a comic-book shop in Jackson, Tennessee, that has not only survived, but has done well enough to employ me and another guy. There’s something inspiring about people who stay in just-okay (or even not-okay) places and build things that make those places better.

I pick up a volume of Harrow County and read for a few minutes, until Josie appears at the glass front door, Lawson watching protectively behind her in his truck to make sure she gets in. I hurry over and unlock the door and open it, waving at Lawson, who waves back and drives away.

“Hey,” Josie says.

“Hey,” I say.

Trish nods in Josie’s direction and wipes her mouth.

“I need you to weigh in on baked potatoes,” I say to Josie.

She shrugs. “Love ’em.”

Trish hee-haws like a victorious donkey.

“Traitor,” I say.

“What? Put cheese and sour cream on it? Delicious.”

“Thank you,” Trish says.

“Answer me this, both of you: if baked potatoes are so great, why did humanity ever advance past them?” I say.

“Huh?” Josie says.

“I assume the baked potato was the first way potatoes were ever made. Why keep going past that to fries and mashed potatoes and hash browns and potato chips? If baked potatoes are so good?”

Trish and Josie erupt, talking simultaneously, their words blending together in an unintelligible cacophony. “Sorta like, ‘We have this perfectly good Earth to stand on, why send astronauts to the moon?’?” Josie says, breaking through the outraged clamor.

“Humanity has a restless spirit of exploration,” Trish says. “We always seek something better.”

“Maybe we should hash this out on this week’s show,” Josie says, winking.

Trish and I groan loudly. “And on that sour note,” I say, “we’re gonna jet.” We walk out to Mom’s and my battered yellow Ford Focus. Josie brushes some chip crumbs off the passenger seat and gets in.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“Slept in until eleven. Applied for a couple server jobs.”

“Ugh. Where?”

“Cheddar’s. Logan’s Roadhouse.”

“Worst.”

“Seriously.”

“What were you and Law-dogg doing? Besides tons of smooching, of course.”

“Went to Books-A-Million, got his new G. M. Pennington book.” Josie suddenly seems nervous. She brushes her hair back and looks at her feet. “Hey, so…while Lawson and I were at the bookstore, I maybe…invited him to come with us to Orlando?”

I start churning inside, like when you’re stirring a big bowl of something but suddenly change direction. My first impulse is to anger and jealousy, that she would invite along Lawson—who I can’t compete with in certain areas—to be our third wheel, especially without asking me first.

But then another thought: If Lawson comes, your biggest excuse for not going to visit your dad—not wanting to leave Josie on her own—is gone. A thin film of sweat rises on my forehead as I turn it over in my mind, trying to decide if the out is even something I want.

“DeeDee? Say something. We good? I can disinvite him.”

I hear in her voice that she doesn’t want to disinvite him.

“No,” I say softly. “It’s cool.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Totally? Because—”

“Totally. Don’t worry about it.” Adrenaline is splashing around inside my chest, burning like acid where it lands. I have a nervous-twitchy-lower-intestine feeling.

“He’ll be a good bodyguard if we run into creepers at the con. And we can make him carry our bags and stuff.”

I nod.

“Plus,” Josie continues, “he really is fun to be around.”

We drive for a bit in silence. Finally, I say, “This trip is starting to feel like Frodo taking the Ring to Mount Doom.”