10
By noon, we’re on the road. Tank insisted on driving, even though he’s twice as big as the seat. His big hands are monster-sized on the steering wheel. Before we left, Sunny insisted on burning sage and cedarwood throughout the vehicle to clear negative energy for our journey. The cabin smells of burnt herbs and spilled paint from her art projects. Even though Tank hasn’t said a word, I can tell he’s pretty close to the breaking point.
I decide to sit in the back with my mom to act as buffer.
“He has such masculine energy,” Sunny tells me in a loud whisper. “Do you think he’ll let me paint him?”
Mom paints nudes. “No, I don’t think so. He’s a very private person.”
Sunny considers this.
“I wouldn’t ask him,” I add. “He gets... grumpy.”
“You certainly have a way with him.”
Me? “I
