Sasha Whitlock strolled up to me wearing tight jeans and a graphic t-shirt that read, Go get Voss-of-Books. Catchy. Sasha looked better than when she had worked at Teresa’s Bookstore. Her hair had been brushed and her pants didn’t have holes or tears, fashion that drove Teresa bonkers. Sasha’s lips were as red as the fake apples in Grandma’s kitchen. I wondered if these subtle changes were from dating Mateo or if she was happy about Doris’s death.
Go get Voss-of-BooksMeanwhile, Jane lingered inside her car. Now she waits in the vehicle? I considered saying the code but decided to suck it up. No sense in becoming the boy who cried wolf too many times because someone spotted me.
Now she waits in the vehicle?“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Sasha said with a chipper tone.
“Okay,” I said
