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I’m hungry.”
    .
    “Oh!” screeched Larry, looking at his
tablet, while Lori ate from his fries, dipping them into his side
of tartar sauce. “Oh my God! She wants to come! Is Harbor City
close?”
    Lori mixed her salad with her fork, and
looked up at Larry. “Who wants to come?”
    “December Carrera,” said Larry. “Miss
Milkshakes, from the internet.”
    “Classy, Larry,” said Lori, sipping her iced
tea. “It’s not a big car.”
    “She’s not a big girl,” answered Larry.
“Well, except for her milkshakes.”
    .
    Lori exited the 110 Fwy at Anaheim Street
and motored past the Phillips 66 refinery. “Right back where we
started from,” she said.
    As they passed the refinery’s old corporate
logo – an orange globe – Larry pointed. “Looks like your District
Manager’s face.”
    “You think he’ll call the cops?” asked
Lori.
    “Probably not right away,” said Larry.
    “Maybe not at all, since you have that
video,” said Lori, “though I can kiss the job goodbye.”
    “My phone doesn’t have video,” said
Larry.
    “What?
    “He just has to think it does,” said Larry.
“I uploaded the photos, though.”
    Lori pulled in to a Mobil station and snaked
through the cars at the gas islands, parking in front of the Food
Store.
    “I though this kind of food is against your
religion,” said Larry.
    “Clean bathrooms are my religion,” said
Lori. “Any supplies you’ll need? Cheetos, trail mix...
condoms?”
    “Lori?”
    “Who’s this woman,” said Lori. “This
Milkshake girl? Should I be worried?”
    “She’s nice,” said Larry. “You’ll like
her.”
    .
    The convertible pulled up to a multiplex
notable for being the sole building on either side of the street
with a uniform coat of paint –walls, trim, and doors were all one
color. Larry pushed the door buzzer for #9 CARRERA.
    A breathy voice answered.
    “Hi, December. It’s Larry.”
    The breathy voice got out the three words,
“Be right down,” and Larry stood next to the door. He made a mostly
unsuccessful effort to straighten his hair, using his fingers as a
comb. The door opened, and a woman with dark hair, black like a
crow, stepped out, pulling a full-sized suitcase and carrying a
SpongeBob day bag.
    “Hi,” said Miss Milkshakes, holding her hand
out in the way one would if the other person were to kiss it. “I
wouldn’t go with you, except you’re so nice on the site, and I know
you’re a gentleman. Oooooo, nice car.” Upon seeing Lori behind the
wheel, December quickly asked, “Who’s dat?”
    “My friend,” said Larry. “She’s
driving.”
    “Do you need her?” asked December. “I can
drive.”
    “No, I need her.”
    “Girlfriend?”
    “No,” said Larry. “No.”
    “She won’t be after this, hunny,” said
December, climbing in to the front seat, leaving Larry to lift the
heavily-packed suitcase into the back seat. “Careful. There’s a
video camera in there.” Larry climbed into the back and wedged
himself into what remained of the narrow back seat.
    Miss Milkshakes extended her hand to Lori,
who ignored the gesture, only uttering, “Hey.”
    “She definitely won’t be after this,” said
December, over her shoulder to Larry. Lori pulled out from Belle
Porte onto Anaheim, and back towards the 110 Harbor Fwy.

CHAPTER Five
    Heard it on the Grapevine
    “How come Miss Got-the-Keys don’t know where
the secret button is,” yelled December, standing alongside the
passenger’s door of the convertible, which was idling on the
emergency shoulder of the 405 Fwy north. Cars whooshed past as
Larry felt under the folded top. “Did you guys steal dis car or
what?”
    “No,” said Larry, his face suddenly
brightening. He pulled at a latch under the top and one side sprang
up. “It’s manual.” Larry circled to the other side and reached
under for the second latch.
    Miss Milkshakes drew close and used her
elbows to push together her breasts, giving Larry a glimpse into
the deep, long,