ELEVEN
“All right. I’m listening,” Russia says, turning towards me. What I was really hoping for was for him to take the conversational hot potato and hold onto it for a bit longer before throwing it back to me.
Fine, then, I’ve gotta be the one to take the reins.
I gulp, arrange my sunnies on the top of my head, flip the visor up because it’s gone twilight-ish by now, and pull into the street, getting lost in the local traffic of Alex and Theresa’s neighbourhood. I forgot to input the way home in my GPS so I can get out of here, trying to remember the way out.
“I want to talk about what you said,” I say, glancing left and right, trying to find the street names and signs. “At dinner. Well, after dinner, after we all ate. At the table, to Matty.” Jesus, could I have made that anymore aw
