It was definitely a good thing. Without a car, I was hosed. Still, it made me feel a little funny to think of him retrieving my car when we weren't exactly together anymore.
I stalled. "What if itisa good thing?"
"Then it was all me."
"And if it's abadthing?"
"In that case," he said, "blame Bishop."
"Your brother?" I laughed. "Why him?"
"Because he's already on your list, so I figure, eh, what's the difference?"
"Heeeey," I said, "you'reon my list too."
"I know," he said. "And I’m trying like hell to getoffit."
"So, that's why you did it?"
"Nope. I'd have done it anyway."
"I've gotta ask," I said, "how'd you do it? It's not like you had my keys."
"Long story," he said.
"Yeah, I just bet," I said. "Still, thanks for the help. Seriously."
"Hey Chloe?"
"Yeah?"
"You might wanna get a new battery."
I winced. "Really?"
"Yeah. The car's starting okay now, but you know how these things go. Vintage cars. They're tricky, right?"
Vintage my ass. Old was more like it. Last winter, my entire exhaust system had gone out piece by expensive piece. But Lawton's car? That trulywasvintage, all sleek lines and shiny paint. Well, until last night.
I felt a pang at the image of his once-beautiful car. Here he had gone to a lot of trouble to retrievemycar, a total piece of crap, but he hadn't even mentioned his own. Was it still at the restaurant? Would he be able to fix it?
My voice was quiet as I asked, "How about your car? Is it, uh—"
"It's fine."
"Oh c'mon Lawton," I said, "I know it's not fine. I was there. Remember?"
"Yeah. I remember."
"Why'd you do that?"
"Because," he said, "it needed to be done."
"No, it didn't."
"Yes," he said. "It did."
"Why?"
