Andy was definitely nervous, not that Scooter could blame him. He’d been bouncing back and forth between uncertain silence and random babbling since the moment they’d set foot in the airport back in Virginia. Now, as they made their way through the terminal in New York—Christ, it was crowded, worse than the beaches on the Fourth of July—Andy was all but vibrating, moving his backpack from one hand to the other, slinging it over a shoulder only to drop it back to his hand a few steps later.
Andy veered sharply around a corner and led Scooter toward an escalator. “—someone to meet us,” he was saying. “But if she forgot, we’ll just grab a cab. I’m not going to subject you to the subway until we’ve been in the city for at least twenty-four hours.” He threw Scooter a shaky grin.
Sure. How the
