Page 32 of You Chive Me Crazy

“Maybe I need to call nine-one-one, if you can’t answer the question,” I said. “There must be something seriously wrong with you. I mean, unless you can dig deep down inside your brain and magically pull out the answer. I will ask you one more time. What is the very thin unleavened dough?”

Zoe huffed. “Filo.”

“Correct,” I said. “You can call me that any time you like.”

She glared at me. “I’m going to call you dead on arrival if you don’t turn the light off.”

I chuckled. “I’m just following doctor’s orders—no need to be so crabby.” I leaned back down on the bed, set the timer on my phone for another two hours, then rolled over to click off the light. “Good night.”

Nothing.

“Good night,” I repeated.

“Good night,” Zoe finally said. “Good nap, more like it.”

She was right.

Two hours later, my phone vibrated again.

I clicked on the light, wiped my eyes, peeked over the wall of pillows, and whispered, “Wake up, tater tot.”

This time, she responded on the first try. “Already awake.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to get a better look at her, but with no luck since her back was to me. “You okay?”

Zoe sighed and turned toward me. “You snore.”

“So do you,” I said, chuckling. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just thinking about my food truck and hoping there aren’t any issues.”

“You don’t have to worry about that now. Axel said you’d get it back in a day or two. You’ll be fine. More important is you getting healthy.”

Speaking of that, it was time to get to the questions.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

This time she didn’t put up a fight.

“Zoe Leilani Bell.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m lost in translation, trying to find my way back to reality.”

“A physical address is preferred.”

“Lakeview Drive in Big Bear Lake, California. I don’t remember the number on the building, but that’s not because of a concussion or memory loss. It’s because this is not my original hotel. I was kidnapped, and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You poor thing—your life must really suck, the way people go out of their way to help you.” She turned toward me, opened her mouth, most likely to complain, but I held up my hand. “Next and final question, if you are on good behavior, that is. What is the dip or sauce made of strained yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, and other seasonings that is most often served cold as part of an appetizer?”

“Tzatziki,” Zoe answered without hesitation.

“Spell it.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Can you spell it?” I asked.