and stayed where I landed, even though my bottom hung halfway off. Once I slammed the door, it shoved my ass over anyway, and more urgent was my shirt, which had ridden up to expose my hairless, wrinkled, bulging belly.
She offered her hand. “My name is Tiana.”
I shook it with my left, since it was closer and less trouble to produce. “Duffy.”
“Duffy,” she repeated, testing the name out. “You were in my horoscope today.”
I paused my blind search for the seat belt. Of course an odd duck had picked me up. Who else would pull over for a fella like me? “You don’t say. What was I doing there?”
“Existing. It told me to direct my attention to things I usually overlook.” She squared herself with the steering wheel. “So where to?”
The question was innocent enough, but it caused a sudden, raw wave of dread. I’d charged a hill and then sat down halfway up, and now I had a chauffeured ride in either direction. Which meant she was either a blessing from God or an offer from the devil, and I stared, trying to decide which.
“Have you forgotten?” Her brow knitted. She produced a cell phone from the depths of her cleavage. “Do you have someone we could call?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, defensive. “I was heading to . . . Well, have you ever heard of Hang Overs?”
“The bar right there?” she said, hitching her thumb behind her.
“That’s the one,” I said. “I was on my way there, and then I changed my mind, and now . . .”
She offered me a sly look. “Are you a Capricorn? Because today, it said to lean into your intuition to find the right answer.”
I stared at her again. The gears in my brain had gotten stuck. “I’m a Libra,” I managed.
“I knew it,” she said, scanning through her phone. “It says, ‘Positive thinking will not get you to your next destination.’ Does that sound right?”
“They all sound right,” I said, looking to Centennial’s wooden sign right outside the windshield.
Caring for Seniors Since 1994, it said. Welcome Home.
“It also says to tend to your body.” She reached across me, taking the liberty of strapping me in. “So? What’s going to be your next destination?”
It was funny how quickly my view of things could change, now that I had a comfortable seat and a little bit of air-conditioning. From this point of view, it seemed possible that I’d cried uncle too soon. I had speed on my side again, and maybe even the zodiac. Plus, things were just now starting to get fun.
“To Hang Overs,” I said with confidence.
“You got it. I’m running to the craft store, but it’s only a minute away.” She put the car in drive and made a quick U-turn. “We’ll have you there in no time.”
“Right,” I agreed from my spot in the passenger seat—the one place where I could do nothing but ride along. I felt exempt, absolved, content even.
While Tiana merged, she rolled up my window, which flooded the inside of the car with her perfume. I don’t know if it was my conscience or my imagination, but it smelled the same as Alice’s—rose water with honey undertones and a hint of balsam. I tried to ignore it, but even when I didn’t breathe through my nose, I still had the taste in my mouth. It’s like Alice was everywhere, but at the same time, nowhere close, and she was getting farther away every second.
The thought of her almost led me to change my mind again. But then we stopped at the Saint Michael’s red light, waiting to take a right onto Border Lane. Outside my window, Centennial’s signage had been replaced with Hang Overs’, and the moment I laid eyes on it, my mouth went dry enough to spin cotton.
This was the worst best idea I’d ever had.
Tiana dialed down the air-conditioning. “Do you live around here?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice thin.
“Moburbia?” she asked, referring to the mobile home park.