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sleeping in even later
than normal the next morning before joining Harmony in yoga.
    The day passed like a Salvador Dali painting.
Everything seemed distorted, slow and odd. Until she was standing
in front of her closet trying to decide what she could possibly
wear that would be suitable for the movies and not raise Spence’s
suspicions. Then the clock seemed to be on fast forward.
    She finally settled on folding her skirt over
at the waist to shorten it and putting a button-up in her bag. She
siphoned more money from her secret stash in the mattress so she
could pay Spence for the evening before heading out for the
night.
    Jessie sincerely hoped she didn’t look as
nervous as she felt. Harmony chatted with her easily about not much
in particular and she took that as a good sign.
    “Be really careful you don’t pick up a cop,
baby girl,” Jessie warned.
    “Is that a joke?” Harmony nodded in the
direction of an old white Plymouth that pulled up at the corner of
First and Lucas just as they walked up.
    “Don’t accidentally pick up any cops,” Jessie
amended before waving and darting across the street to hop in the
car.
    “Hey there,” his eyes seemed to lap her
up.
    “Hey,” she flushed under his gaze. “Where’d
you get the car?”
    “I bought it a few years ago. I keep meaning
to fix it up and never get around to it. It’s not pretty, but it
runs great.”
    “No, it’s cool. I like it. What year is
it?”
    “Sixty-three.”
    “Good year for cars,” she nodded
knowingly.
    “You think so?”
    “I have no idea,” she admitted. “It just
seemed like the right thing to say.”
    Once they were on the highway, she maneuvered
in her seat to pull her skirt down to a respectable length before
sliding the button-up shirt on over the layered tank tops she’d
worn out.
    Gabe burst out laughing, an incredulous look
on his face.
    “What?”
    “Usually it’s the other way around… the girl
sneaks out with more clothes on…”
    “Ah, I see what you mean,” Jessie grinned at
the absurdity of it. “I never have been normal.”
    “Normal is overrated,” he assured her. “Have
you decided what we’re going to see?”
    “Haven’t got a clue.”
    “What’s your curfew?”
    “I think I brought enough to buy me until 1
a.m.,” she double checked her wallet to be sure.
    “To buy you? Are you paying him for a night
off?”
    “I’m paying him to think I worked,” she
corrected.
    “I’m not okay with that,” he frowned.
    “Then pretend you didn’t hear it.”
    “I can’t pretend I didn’t hear it.”
    “Then get over it. I don’t want you ruining a
perfectly good date—you don’t want to waste my money, do you?”
    “I don’t feel right making you pay to spend
time with me.”
    “You aren’t the one making me. It’s kind of
funny, really.”
    “Funny?”
    “Sure… usually people pay to spend time with
me.”
    “You’re just full of paradoxes, aren’t
you?”
    “Yep. Look at it this way. People spend money
on all sorts of things. Drugs. Alcohol. Some people collect things
or overeat. Lots of people spend money on big houses or fancy cars.
I don’t spend money on any of that stuff. For fourteen years, I’ve
been sticking money under a mattress because I didn’t have anything
better to do with it and nowhere to go.”
    “Fourteen years?”
    “Now I have somewhere to go.”
    “How much do you have?”
    “A lot. Probably. I don’t exactly flip my
mattress over to count it.”
    “And still you don’t leave.”
    “I told you, that’s not an option. You’re not
going to ruin our date by bringing that up again, are you?” she
repositioned herself in the seat so she could face him more
fully.
    “What the hell happened to your face?” he
shouted, causing her to regret repositioning herself. A vein was
pulsating in his temple. She took that as a sign he was really
angry.
    “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she
admonished. She didn’t want to be that woman—the one