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My mom smiled. “Devo, what time will you be there?” She held her flowers out to me, and I took them and tucked them into the crook of my arm next to my flowers. “Put those in water, will you, please? But trim the stems first.”

“Sure.”

She winked at me. “Thanks, Devil.”

“Welcome. I’m leaving in ten minutes,” I said. “Just need to change.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna ride with us? It’s silly for everybody to take separate cars.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home or if I’ll make it back tonight.” Now I was blushing. My mom wouldn’t have batted an eye at me making a reference to staying out all night, but it was weird to say it in front of Red. “I’d rather take my truck.”

Mom nodded, and Red did his best not to look uncomfortable. “Drive safely then,” she said, “and we’ll see you there.”

“Have fun,” Red said as he pushed out the door, leading my mom on their first… date?

What was the world coming to?

When they weren’t talking on the phone about the new studio, they texted like teenagers. It was bizarro land, but my mom hadn’t been this excited about anything, even her Etsy store, in… well, I’d never seen her like this. It was a side of her I’d never expected. And shame on me for that. But my dad had certainly never inspired the kind of spark I saw in her eyes now.

I was marking the whole thing down as weird shit that worked. What else could I do?

But I couldn’t think about my mom and Red right now. If I didn’t get a move on, I’d be late for my own date.

I ran to the kitchen, trimmed the stems of both bouquets with the kitchen scissors, and set each bunch in its own clear vase with water. I added a little flat 7-Up from the fridge ’cause my mom always said the flowers liked it—whatever that meant—and then skipped to my room.

My hair looked as good as it was going to. It refused to behave no matter what I did to it. Even the hottest flat iron wouldn’t tame the stupid wave that couldn’t seem to stay tucked behind my ear, even if I’d shellacked it with Elmer’s glue.

Oh well. No time to worry about it now.

Abey knew what I looked like. She liked me no matter how bedheaded I appeared, but I still wanted to dress up for her, for our first extremely public date. She’d said she had a surprise for me, and I would get it when I met her at the station so we could walk through town together to the dance.

What could it be?

My favorite black, wide-leg, pinstriped trousers hung from my closet door on a hanger in front of a few new shirts I’d ordered for work.

It was a new day. Devo the Devil wouldn’t strike again, ’cause she’d grown up. She would no longer fight everyone about everything. Instead, I would work hard to help the people I could, and I would build a life I could be proud of. Which meant no more trips to lock-up, even if it guaranteed getting strip-searched by the hottest cop I’d ever seen. She could strip me when we got home at night.

Yanking the trousers from the hanger, I pulled them on. I grabbed a white tank from my drawer and pulled it over my head without a bra ’cause I knew it drove Abey crazy when I didn’t wear one. Since we had officially begun dating, her head had disappeared beneath my shirt more than once while we watched catty housewives or naked survivor shows on her couch so she could assault my bare breasts with kisses. Abey hated my trash TV shows, but she watched them with me because she said she loved the sound of my laugh.

I covered the tank with a fitted, white button-down. It had long sleeves, but the fabric was light, so I wouldn’t get too hot, but my nipples wouldn’t show through either. Only Abey had permission to obsess over them.

The September nights were cool already, but the nervousness running through my body would definitely make me sweat. Hopefully, it wouldn’t rain like the weather dude from Jackson had predicted and everyone at the dance wouldn’t get a show if my white shirts got soaked and didn’t do a good enough job of covering me up, but I had a sweatshirt in my truck just in case.

Finally, I stepped into my deep-whiskey–colored patent leather boots. They were punk-rockfully clunky and had three-inch platform soles. If I was going to be dancing with my girl, I wanted to be as close to face-to-face as I could get. Having my eyes stuck at boob level all night was not a good idea. Already, I couldn’t wait for the dance to be over so I could strip her bare back at her apartment.

“Okay. I think you’re ready,” I said to my empty bedroom, and I grabbed my wallet and lip gloss out of my bag. I headed to the bathroom for one more face check. I never wore makeup, besides gloss occasionally, so I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I studied my face in the mirror anyway.

I looked good. I felt good.

My eyelashes looked kind of sexy and dark in the low yellow light, and I turned, eyeing the line of my body and pushing my butt out. Patting the pooch on my stomach, I tried to smooth it away, but Abey loved it, so I smiled at myself, noticing how the anticipation of seeing her made my cheeks pink all by itself.

Taking one last deep breath, I stood tall, pushed out my tits, and nodded.

Here we go!

* * *

Traffic downtown was a bitch!