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I see one. Your eyebrows don’t match.”
    Cherry let out a breath. “I dunno. I like blond better.”
Crank, crank.
The Spider wobbled higher. “Also, Pop always says I look like my mother, and I’m not too wild about that.” She wiped her brow. “I never told anyone that.”
    “Mum’s in Cabo with a yoga instructor named Juan,” Ardelia said.
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I’m not.”
    “Mothers, right?”
    “Who needs them?”
    Cherry sat back, sweating from the effort. “Well, Ms. Oscar Nominee. Ready to change your first tire?”
    Ardelia wrapped an arm around Cherry’s shoulder. “My
God,
yes.”
    As they pulled into the trailer park, Ardelia texted something on her phone.
    “You’re seventeen Sugar Village, right?”
    “That’s me. And we’re here.”
    Cherry brought the Spider to the curb and killed the engine. Ardelia turned in her seat.
    “This was . . . magical.”
    Cherry shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a good time.”
    “You certainly are. Thank you. For everything.”
    They hugged.
    “I guess I’ll see you on the big screen.”
    “I suppose so.”
    The girls climbed out, and Cherry headed for the door. She turned. “Take care of that car, will ya? She’s a beauty.”
    “Cherry.”
    “Yeah?”
    Ardelia tossed her something shining, tinkling. Car keys.
    “She’s yours.”
    “What?”
    Ardelia patted the hood. “You’ll take better care of her than I can. It’s the least I can do.”
    “Holy shit.” Cherry stared at the keys like they might suddenly turn into Marshmallow Circus Peanuts. “Holy. Shit. You’re giving me your
car
?”
    “Well, one of them.”
    “I . . . I can’t take this!” She gaped at the gleaming automobile. “Jesus, what am I saying? Of course I can!” She ran to Ardelia and hugged her, squeezing until her back cracked. “Thank you!”
    “Don’t break me!”
    “You want me to drop you at your hotel?”
    “No need,” Ardelia said.
    An engine growled, and a black SUV rounded the corner. It parked across the street, and a kid in a Paramount polo shirt climbed down from the driver’s seat and opened the rear door.
    “Car service by text,” Ardelia said, waggling her phone. “A nice perk.”
    “You’re officially my new favorite movie star.”
    Ardelia waved. “See you around, Cherry Kerrigan.”
    The SUV pulled away, disappearing onto Hope Ave. Sugar Village was quiet again.
    Cherry tested the weight of the keys in her hand and rubbed her thumb across the Alfa Romeo bobble that hung from the ring like a lucky rabbit’s foot. They were
hers.
She jumped, pumping her fists, and whooped at the moon so loud, every dog in the neighborhood started barking.
    She could hear voices as she approached the trailer door. She came in to see Stew waving his hands like he was putting out a fire.
    “She’s coming, she’s coming!” he hissed.
    “I can hear you, jackass,” Cherry said, laughing. “You guys are
not
going to believe this —”
    Pop stood at attention by the side door like the world’s fattest palace guard. He cleared his throat.
    “My lady, if you’d step this way.”
    Stew patted her back, grinning. “Oh, man, are you gonna love this.”
    “Have you two gone completely mental? What is this?”
    She was ushered into the garage.
    “I was going to wait for your birthday, but after all the craziness this afternoon, I figured we could do this a little early,” Pop said.
    “Do what?”
    He flicked on the overhead.
    Bathed in the halogen light was a rust-spotted Gremlin, freshly refurbished with new (though mismatched) doors and side-view mirrors, a bumper from a Volvo 950, and a beautiful chrome muffler, brought out special from Marlborough.
    “Ta-da!” Pop spread his arms wide. “And she’s all yours.”
    “I mean, she’s no Dubber,” said Stew, opening the driver’s door and getting behind the wheel. “But she’s fucking tricked
out,
Cherr. Specialty dials to track your fuel efficiency . . . And I found this
killer
radio in