Page 50 of Wham Line

“Whatdoes Keme have?”I asked in my best parental voice.(It’s not great; it lands somewhere between Peg Bundy and Roseanne Conner.)

“Say nothing,” Keme whispered not quietly enough.

Millie said, “Uh, nothing.”

“Is it a knife?”I asked.

“We’re going to find Larry now.”

“Is it a gun?If it’s a gun, tell him—no, wait, I want to talk to him myself.”

“Bye, Dash.Love you!”

“No, we don’t—” Keme began.

And the call disconnected.

I called Bobby back.“Hey, you’re up.How are you doing?”

Bobby’s voice still had a hint of muzziness.“Fine.Where are you?”

“Out running a few errands.”

Silence.

All muzziness was gone when he said, “In what car?”

“I rented one.I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you might need the Pilot for your own errands.”

Bobby’s unspoken questions practically vibrated across the call.Finally he said, “Whereare you?”

“Oh!”That was me, a natural-born actor with an impresario’s flair for the dramatic.“I found the flowers you were looking for.Lotus flowers, right?”

“You did?”

“Yeah.This place online.”

“That’s great.Thank you.”

“Take a look at the confirmation to make sure I got the right ones, would you?And the address?It’s in my email; just jump on my laptop.”

The best word for Bobby’s silence wasprofound.

“Gotta run,” I said.“I’ll be back later.”

Laterwas good.Laterwasn’t specific.Latercould mean next year.

“What—” Bobby began.

I disconnected.

Look, I know it was rude.I know it wasn’t good boyfriend behavior.But on the one hand, fair was fair.The less said about Bobby’s behavior the night before, the better.And I thought I’d done an admirable job of pretending not to have had my guts ripped out.

So, I tried not to think about the call or Bobby or any of it, really.

Instead, I focused my morbid curiosity on my conversation with Millie and Keme for the next hour and a half.Specifically, whatever Keme had that I wasn’t supposed to know about.

I mean, it couldn’t be a gun, could it?