Doll Crimes
I wonder how much that would cost.
“Drink?” Car Dude calls from the kitchen.
He’s a lot like Blue Shades, so much so that a part of me keeps confusing them. He paid our bill—three glasses of dry white wine, my mocha and a cheese board—and picked us up in a vintage Dodge Challenger. He isn’t wearing loafers. Still, the image stays.
“Whatever’s long and hard,” my mother says, and giggles. She looks at me with her happy, cheeky look that says don’t worry—she’ll share.
Bab Populer