Delmore surged forward and gave me a shove. “That’s a main road, isn’t it? I know this ain’t Manhattan, but I’m sure you can hail a cab. Or at least a goddamned sled with dogs. Hurry up. I’m right behind you.”
It didn’t take long. A few minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of a yellow cab, telling the smooth, jet-black-haired young driver to head downtown, fast.
“What address, please, sir?”
“What? Oh. Uh, just downtown.”
Once he’d cut a sharp right before the bridge and started down a steep hill to the valley floor, I began to collect my bearings.
“Good thing she drove off on us,” Delmore grunted. “You’re a terrible driver. You’d have got us all killed. The two of you would have been enjoying my company. Permanently.”
“Oh, lay off, will you. I feel bad enough as it is.”
