Chapter 7: Los Angeles
“Do we have to?” J.T.’s lower lip stuck out, and he shoved his hands into his back pockets and slouched across the parking lot like a ten-year-old.
“I spent half the day riding those dopey rides at Universal Studios. That gives me the right to pick the next tour.”
“Yeah, but a f*****g art museum?”
“Watch your language, kid. We’re in public.”
To his credit, the kid did mutter an apology to the group of blue-haired ladies walking behind us. He scuffled his feet, kicking at stray pebbles, his shoulders so low I wondered how he kept his balance. I ignored his theatrics and gestured for the women to enter the tram first. Once we’d all piled in, I put an arm around the kid.
“You liked Brookgreen Gardens, didn’t you?” This was the sculpture garden in his own state, th
