Chapter Twenty
Ben drove east out of LA. He drove for two hours, Veronica sitting on the other end of the cracked blue leather bench, only speaking when she told him to take an exit, or merge left, this right turn, that left. Ben held the wheel with his left hand, his right hand resting on his leg, feeling the coin in his pocket. He’d tried to give it back to her at the apartment, but she ignored him, told him to wait for her outside. He’d protested, concerned about the people pinned to the walls and ceiling and floor all around them. What happened when they got down? It was absurd, surreal, but he wasn’t about to let her get thrown into mortal peril because of him, even if it seemed she was the one in control, not them, and certainly not him.
So he’d waited outside. He’d sat on the bott
