She was also a loyal friend. She would stand guard over Louise for Zona, even if Zona was out all night. Of course, so would Carol. And Martin. And even Gilda.
It was probably a good thing Susan had invited herself over for fun though. If Zona had brought Gilda over, she’d have seen the latest goings-on next door and egged Louise on in jumping to conclusions.
Except was it jumping to see a woman running crying from a house, obviously upset, and suspect some sort of cruelty was behind it?
His truck was still parked in his driveway when Zona got into her car. What had gone on over there? None of her business, that was what.
Her car still smelled faintly of eau de barf, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. Keeping the windows down as much as possible would help. The night was warm. Maybe some of her passengers would enjoy fresh air.
And then again, maybe not. “Can you roll up your window?” asked a fifty-something woman with a carefully crafted hairstyle.
“Of course,” Zona murmured and hoped the woman’s olfactory glands weren’t working.
They were. “What’s that smell?”
Zona could see the wrinkled nose and downturned mouth in her rearview mirror.
She decided feigning ignorance was her best bet. “Do you smell something?”
The woman frowned at her. “Never mind. Let the window back down or I’m going to be sick.”
The last thing Zona needed was a repeat of that.
“You really should do something about the smell,” the woman said to her before getting out of the car.
Zona had a strong suspicion there would be no tip coming from that passenger.
She wasn’t sure how many more passengers she wanted to pick up. The car still appeared to be running rough in spite of its new air filter. She’d go home and switch cars.
She decided to first take one more fare at the Ontario airport, since she was already close. The passenger was headed to Azusa, which would be almost to home for her anyway.
Her passenger was easy to spot as she pulled up to the passenger load area. He was checking his phone and the cars pulling up. He wore jeans, boots, and a fringed brown suede jacket. A messenger bag was slung across his chest and he had a small carry-on suitcase. A California cowboy. He wasn’t very tall and he wasn’t very big, but he was cute in a boy-next-door sort of way, with curly brown hair. Had to be single or there would have been someone meeting him.
“Well, hello there,” he said happily when she let down the window to confirm that he was her passenger.
Great. A Mr. Friendly. He’d talk her ear off all the way to his destination.
He tossed his luggage in the back seat, then climbed into the front passenger seat. There were no rules against it, but unless it was a party of three, people almost always took the back seat as a sort of courtesy. Zona wished she’d seen that coming. Too late though. There he was.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said. “A hot HopIn driver.”
Ugh. This man obviously considered himself a player and the last thing she needed was him up in front next to her, practicing his moves. She wished she wasn’t stuck with him all the way to Azusa. She managed a polite smile but said nothing.
“So, you live around here?”
“Not really,” she said.
“But sort of? You must live somewhere nearby. Hey, maybe you live in Azusa, like me. What’s your name?”
“Sorry, that’s classified information,” she said.
“Ha, ha. If you told me, you’d have to kill me, right?”
“That’s it,” she said.
“So, you’re probably really a spy and this is your cover. You like working undercover?”
If this smarmy double entendre kept up, there would be more barfing in her car. “You must be a comic.”
