“Who listens to their earbuds when they get out of the shower?” Annette says to me, smirking over her beer as she does so.

“To be fair, I don’t think he just got out of the shower,” I tell her. “He wasn’t wet at all. He was completely dry.” And smooth. And clean. Every taut and tawny inch of him.

“Even so, it’s La Quinta, not the Four Seasons,” she says. “Who wants to walk around naked in their hotel room listening to music?”

She shudders and I reach over and lightly punch her on the arm, almost making her spill her beer. “Hey. I clean those rooms. You can rub your naked butt up and down that carpet, it’s clean as a whistle.”

“I’m only joking,” she says with a tsk of mild disgust, picking up a napkin and wiping down the side of her beer bottle. “I guess I should watch what I say around you today, Miss Sensitive.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my glass of wine. “I am not Miss Sensitive. I just had an off day.”

“Which is why we’re here,” she says brightly, gesturing to the Faultline Bar. The Faultline is one of the nicer bars in town, nothing fancy but at least the drinks are good and staff is polite. Bonus points for not crawling with prison workers and ex-convicts. Not that I ever went in those bars before but I definitely couldn’t handle it now. That’s where you’d often find my dad after his shift and I’m sure I would feel him in the walls, not to mention the patrons there would probably love to talk about him to me, bringing up the ghosts.

Not that I often come out to the bars anyway. I don’t have the time or the money. But I haven’t caught up with Annette for a few weeks now and she said she was buying me a drink and Pike said he’d watch everyone while I was out. He didn’t even hesitate. Maybe the stress is causing my face to crack.

Annette is in her fifties—she’s actually my mother’s best friend. Or was. It’s always hard to talk about that because do you really stop being someone’s friend when they’ve died? She’s never stopped being my mother, even though she’s not here anymore.

Anyway, I’ve always known Annette and always liked her, despite her being crass and crude, or maybe because of that. After my parents died, we started getting closer. She’s a great person to talk to because she’s still grieving in the same way I am, plus she’s going through a bitter divorce and can use a friend. Her soon-to-be ex also works at the prison as the warden and he’s very respected and I think Annette is slowly losing her friend pool in this town, with most of them siding with him.

I sigh and lean back against the booth. “I need to get out of this town,” I tell her and then I’m immediately hit with a million pangs of guilt and regret. There’s no leaving, not now.

“You know, anytime you want time off, you can go,” Annette says. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, but I would be more than happy to watch the kids for a weekend. Go drive down to LA and live it up. Act like the twenty-three-year-old that you are. You’re too young to have to deal with all of this.”

“I can’t take time off work,” I tell her.

“Bullshit,” she says, tapping her hot-pink nails against the table. “You’ve worked there for a year, you can get your two weeks. You just need to take them.”

“But I’ll probably need them for an emergency,” I tell her. “What happens when April graduates and wants to go to college and I have to take her there, wherever that is.” I pause. “Fuck, she probably won’t even go to college. She won’t get a scholarship, not with the way she’s been acting and we all know we can’t afford to pay right now. She might not even graduate.”

“Regardless, Maggie,” she says with emphasis. Even though she quit smoking years ago her voice still sounds like she smokes five packs a day. “That’s the future, and you know there’s no point in getting upset about something that far ahead. Things change.”

“But they don’t change,” I tell her. “Callum is only seven. I’m his guardian for another eleven years. Tehachapi is my prison until then.”

“Look, Maggie, it’s a prison for a lot of people. Literally.”

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It feels futile and more than that, I feel rotten for even wanting to leave. Without me, my brothers and sisters have no one to keep their lives running. We’re all in this together, whether we like it or not. And not one of us likes it. Every one of us wishes and prays every night that we could get our parents back, but wishing and praying doesn’t change a thing.

“So how is your writing going?” Annette asks, quickly changing the subject.

It’s not a better one. It’s literally the worst question you can ask a writer.

“It’s going…okay,” I say slowly after I take a gulp of wine. It’s a lie. It’s not okay. Every night after everyone goes to sleep I try and steal an hour for myself and write but it’s becoming harder and harder. I’m not inspired–I’m tired.

“And you’ve given up on the local paper?”

Ah yes, the local paper, The Tehachapi News. Not exactly what I was aiming for when I went to NYU but now I’d die for an opportunity to write for them, even if I’m just covering the local mountain bike races. But as many times as I’ve shown up at their office and emailed my resume and samples and enquired about writing for them, it doesn’t seem to go anywhere. I get the brush-off in a form letter without so much as an explanation.

“I’ve given up on a lot, Annette,” I tell her, smiling as I do so because I don’t want our outing to turn into gloom and doom. Quit complaining and live in the moment, I tell myself. Enjoy this time out of the house and with your crazy friend while you can.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who has given up,” she says, nodding to the bar.

My eyes drift over to a man who is hunched over on the counter, seemingly sleeping or passed out. I had seen him earlier when I walked in here, my mind registering him as piece of the background. But now that Annette has brought him to my attention, I find myself focusing on him differently.

There’s something about this man’s shape, maybe even his vibe, that calls out to me. Impossibly broad shoulders. Long legs tucked under the stool. Only the nape of his tanned neck exposed along with his shiny, golden-brown hair, his face buried by his arms. He’s a big guy, a guy that’s not from here, well over six feet tall and…

Oh my god.

“Oh my god, I think that’s him.”

“What?” Annette asks.

I stare at her with my mouth agape, noting the look of suspicion on her face. “I think that’s him.”

“Him who?”

“The guy. The naked guy.”

“Mr. Magic Dick?”

I roll my eyes and lower my voice, my body somehow lowering against the table as I speak. “I didn’t say it was magic, just that it was large.”

“Same thing, sweetheart,” she says.

I look back at the guy passed out at the bar and this time it’s all clicking into place. This is him. I’ve seen him naked, I can recognize him clothed.

What the hell is going on? What are the odds that I’d see him here, tonight?

Well, actually they’re pretty good since Tehachapi doesn’t have a thriving nightlife scene.

“You’d think a man of his size, and I mean his height, get your mind out of the gutter, would be able to handle his liquor a little better,” Annette comments and as she does so, my eyes drift up to meet the bartender’s. She’s someone I went to school with, two years younger, and though I don’t really know her she’s looking at me pleadingly, like she needs help.

I should probably stay in my seat but something is compelling me to check out this situation a little closer. Probably because this stranger has made his second appearance in my life and once again it’s in a state of vulnerability. Not that he seemed overly vulnerable when I saw him naked, actually it was more like he was owning the moment.

Yet, here, I feel like I need to do something, like I’m the one who’s responsible for his ass. His very firm, gorgeous ass.

“I’ll get you another beer,” I tell Annette as I get up.

“Uh uh,” she says. “Make sure you get yourself something too.”

I’m driving so one glass of wine is my limit.

I make my way over to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Could I get another Bud Light?” I ask her before sneaking a glance at the guy. Now that I’m closer to him, I feel a rush of energy run through me, a feeling that takes me by surprise, like every nerve in my body is alive and dancing.

“Sure,” the bartender says then glances at him warily. “Do you know him?”

“He’s staying at the hotel I work at, that’s all I know,” I admit. Well, that and the fact that he looks fantastic naked. “I’m guessing he had too much to drink?”

She shrugs as she gets me the beer. “I guess so. When he came in here he seemed fine. Ordered a glass of vodka on the rocks and that was it. Next thing I knew he was just fucking passing out right there. I’ve shaken him a few times but he just groans.”

Hmmm. A little concerning. “He didn’t talk to you about anything?”

“No,” she says, sliding the beer my way. “Asked for the drink and that’s all. Definitely not from here though. Has an accent. Scandinavian for sure, which makes it weirder. I spent a few weeks in Sweden and Norway last year and let me tell you, those people can handle their liquor. This guy, not so much.”

A customer appears at the other end of the bar, getting the bartender’s attention and leaving me alone with the drunken Scandinavian mystery man.

I should get this beer right back to Annette who is watching me expectantly, but I take a few extra seconds to take him in.

My eyes slowly absorb all his details. The gleam of his hair, bronze and gold intertwined with the rich brown, just long enough that you could give it a good tug, to slide like silk through my fingers. The nape of his neck, lightly tanned with fine blonde hairs, a spot that seems achingly exposed and secretly sensitive, that disappears into the collar of his black leather jacket. It fits his broad shoulders like a glove, the leather seeming both soft and well-crafted. As my attention drifts down to his dark gray jeans and boots, I’m realizing how well-tailored and expensive all of his clothes look. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would stay at La Quinta for fun. Someone better suited for the fancier hotels and places. A businessman.

But what business could he be in?

Porn. With that dick, it’s gotta be porn.

“Hey,” I find myself saying softly, reaching over to nudge his arm with my elbow. A low rumble emits from him but he doesn’t move. “So I’m the girl who walked in on you naked earlier today and I just wanted to apologize. It wasn’t intentional.” I pause, aware that there’s a chance he might be listening, also aware that Annette is still staring at me questioningly from across the bar. “To clarify, this happened at the hotel. I was the maid and you were, well, you were walking out of the bathroom totally naked. I guess you didn’t hear me. Why were you listening to music anyway? What music was so important that you had to stick in your earbuds and strut around like you were at home? Speaking of home, where the hell are you from?”

I stare at him for a few more minutes, watching his back rise and fall. Finally, he makes a breathless sound and he moves his head back and forth until it settles with the side of his face tilted toward me, eyes closed.

I’m struck by the intimacy of the moment, dazzled by how gorgeous he looks up close. It was hard to focus on his face earlier for obvious reasons, but now I feel like I can really drink him in.

Though his jaw is strong and wide and dusted with stubble, there’s something almost innocent about the way he looks. Maybe everyone looks this sweet when they sleep but his eyelashes are definitely enviable and his full lips seem curled into a soft smile, contrasting with the hollowness beneath his sharp cheekbones.

Even fully clothed and passed out drunk on a bar, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

“Guess I’ll be calling the cops later,” the bartender says with a sigh, breaking the spell as she comes over to me and stares at the sleeping giant with disdain.

“Why? What did he do?”

She folds her arms and gives me the are you kidding me look. Suddenly I know what April is going to look like when she’s older. “The guy is huge. And I might be tougher than I look but I’m not about to drag his ass out of here by myself at the end of the night.”

“But he hasn’t done anything wrong,” I say feebly.

“If you want to take care of him, be my guest,” she says before turning her back to me.

I take another glance of him and head back over to Annette.

“What. On Earth. Were you doing?” she asks as she snatches the beer out of my hand. “That wasn’t just getting me a beer.”

I shrug and slide into my seat across from her. “I don’t know, I wanted to see what the situation was.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. He’s drunk.”

“I can see that.”

“But something doesn’t fit here,” I tell her, jerking my chin toward him. “The bartender says he had one drink and it was lights out. Plus, she says he’s all Scandinavian and shit and probably drinks vodka for breakfast. Then there’s the fact that he’s rich.”

She cocks her penciled brow at me. This has her attention. “Rich?”

“His clothes are expensive, he’s well-put together.”

“And so what’s a rich man doing in Tehachapi?”

I shrug. That part has me stumped. “I don’t know. Passing through maybe.”

“And Scandinavian?”

“That’s what the bartender thinks. Swedish or Danish or something.”

She purses her lips and looks me over.

“What?” I ask, automatically feeling defensive over the way she’s looking at me.

“You’re taking far too much interest in this person.”

I frown. “Earlier you were talking about his magic dick.”

“I didn’t expect to see him here. Honey, I’m just looking out for you. Don’t get involved with someone staying at your hotel.”

“How am I involved?” I ask incredulously, throwing my arms out for equal measure. “I’m a concerned citizen.”

She shrugs and settles back in her seat, the bottle at her mouth. “He’s none of your concern and you’ve always been one to go out of your way to help people but honestly, you’re already spreading yourself too thin.” She pauses and then says. “Did I tell you what Hank said?”

Hank is her soon-to-be ex-husband and he’s never not saying or doing something. She launches into the latest tirade which I make myself listen to. I know she needs a friend and an ear as much as I do.

But my eyes are almost always finding their way back to the drunk foreign dude. I find myself wondering how he got so drunk–someone that tall and well-built isn’t a lightweight–then why he’s here in Tehachapi with his Scandinavian accent and pricey clothes. And, yeah, my mind keeps bringing up the image of him naked. Over and over again.

Maybe it’s the sob story or the fact that neither I nor Annette have been out in a while, but she has more beer and I end up having another glass of wine that she so graciously bought for me. By the time we’re ready to go, the bar looks close to closing.

I’d been keeping an eye on the guy all night. He didn’t move at all. Now it looks like he has to and the bartender is shaking him awake while shooting me a worried look, as if it’s also my problem now.

“Can you take him back to the hotel?” she shouts across the room at us as we’re heading to the door. “Or I’ll call the cops to give him a lift.” It almost sounds like she’s threatening me, like the fact that I’d met the guy earlier in the day meant that he was somehow mine.

Annette snorts. “Honey, this ain’t our problem. We don’t know him.”

“And he’s not my problem either,” she says.

The man grumbles something in a foreign language and for the first time actually sits up in his chair, waving the bartenders arm away.

Annette takes a step backward while I stare at him in surprise.

“I’m calling the cops if you don’t get your ass out of here!” the bartender rallies at him, sounding tough though her voice is shaking.

The guy can barely open his eyes, but he seems to understand. He slurs more foreign words, most of which I think are swears, and tries to get to his feet.

Then he sways unsteadily and without thinking I rush over to him, my hands going to his chest to push him back and keep him upright. It’s like trying to keep a redwood tree from falling over and yet somehow it works and he slumps back onto the chair. If he truly was deadweight, I would have been crushed.

“We’ll take him,” I say, my heart racing at my proximity to him, the crazy strength I just pulled out of me.

I’m surprised I said it.

So is Annette.

She reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me away from him. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’ll take him? He’s not a dog you adopt from a shelter, Maggie.”

“Good luck,” the bartender mutters, walking back down the bar with such flourish like a teacher passing off an unruly kid to its parents.

Now I’m committed.

To what, I don’t know.

I wave my arm at him. His eyes are still closed, chin keeps dipping down into his chest. His chest. Hard as cement. I can’t believe I was just pressing my hands into it moments ago. He didn’t even smell like alcohol, just something musky and woodsy, cozy and comforting.

“We can’t leave him here,” I tell her.

“Yes we can,” Annette says, looking around the bar for someone else to save us from this situation but we’re the last ones in here. “It’s not your problem. It’s definitely not my problem. Let the girl call the cops, they can deal with him.”

It’s definitely the easier, saner option. I can’t say why I feel like I have to be this stranger’s knight in shining armor tonight, but I do. “Either you help me get him to the hotel or I do it alone.”

Annette stares at me.

I stare right back at her.

I’ve made up my mind.

Finally, she sighs, rolls her eyes, and taps her pink nails along her arms. “Fine. But I’m trying to think like your mother. She would not approve of this.”

“My mother would be proud that I’m going out of my way to help a stranger, that’s exactly the kind of thing she would do.” Her comment has me on edge, defensive. My mother was always the one to come to someone’s aid.

“Well now I’m worried you’re dazzled by his cock and not thinking right,” she says.

“Shhhh,” I tell her sharply, looking over at the guy to see if he heard. I can’t tell. It does look like he’s about to slide off the bar stool at any moment.

She sighs again. “Okay, let’s go. You take one side, I take the other.”

We flank him on both sides, I lift his arm up over my shoulder, pressing my fingers into his chest again and give Annette a nod. With a groan, we both pull the guy up to his feet. It’s not easy given that he’s over a foot taller than I am but he’s somewhat supported.

Luckily I’m parked by the entrance and working together in unison we manage to walk the guy outside, even though he almost takes a tumble once or twice, nearly bringing us down with him.

We get him into the backseat of the van where he immediately collapses and then I drive us off toward the hotel.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Annette says in a low voice, shaking her head as she watches the streetlights pass by. “You haven’t even thought this through. How are you going to get him to his room? You going to go through his pockets for a room key?”

“I’ll use my housekeeper card.”

“What if someone from your work sees you?”

Hmmmm.

Maybe I haven’t thought this through.

“I’ll be sneaky.”

“No, we will try and be sneaky and try is the operative word because it’s not going to work because clearly you’ve never lugged around Andre the Giant before. You’re going to get caught. Then what?”

I give a half-hearted shrug. “Tell them the truth?”

“Won’t it look like you’re sleeping with the guests or something? Don’t you have a no fraternizing rule?”

“Not on paper,” I say slowly though now I am remembering when I was in high school, one of the housekeepers got caught having sex with someone in the hotel room and she was fired. I think she tried to pass him off as a boyfriend but it was clear that he was just a guest and they didn’t really know each other.

Shit.

Getting fired is the last thing I need, let alone having rumors fly about me sleeping with the guests.

“I say we just pull up to the hotel, slide open the door and kick him out,” she says. “He’ll roll down the hill toward the hotel. Piece of cake.”

“Like we’re dumping a dead body?” I cry out softly, mouth agape.

She throws her hands up. “Well, honey, I don’t know.”

I sigh and quickly pull a U-turn in the middle of the road. Luckily it’s late and pretty much deserted.

“Where are you going?” Annette asks, looking around wildly.

“Taking him to your house.”

“My house?” she shrieks which makes the stranger in the backseat stir and yell something that I’m still certain isn’t English before he passes out again.

I eye him in the rearview mirror, wondering if I’ve made a colossal mistake, I mean what if he realizes where he is and starts freaking out while I’m driving? I don’t know this guy, I don’t know how he reacts. Suddenly I imagine us re-enacting that scene from Tommy Boy when the deer wakes up in the back of the car.

All the better to drop him off at Annette’s.

“Yes, your house,” I repeat.

“No way. No. Nope. Maggie, I have spies.”

“Spies?”

“Hank still comes by unannounced. We’re still in divorce proceedings. The neighbors are on his side. What will it look like if I bring some guy home?”

“You’re not doing anything wrong…”

She just stares at me with devil eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not taking any chances, especially not for someone I don’t know.”

I sigh, my hands squeezing the steering wheel. She’s right. I don’t want to get her in trouble and I don’t want this to hurt her divorce in anyway. People can be vicious here.

At the same time, I can’t take him to the hotel. It will look wrong and I’ll get in shit, I just know it.

And I don’t feel right about getting him put in a drunk tank either.

I exhale again noisily, knowing what I’m about to do.

“What?” Annette says, frowning at me.

“I’m taking him home.”

“Maggie.”

“I’ll put him in mom and dad’s room,” I tell her. “He can sober up.”

“Maggie,” she says again, voice sharper now. “No. You don’t know this guy. You can’t bring him in your house. Not with your brothers and sisters there.”

I know she has a point. “They’re all asleep right now. I’ll tell Pike about it, Pike is big enough to handle him.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Annette. It’s happening. Now do you want me to drop you off first?”

“Oh, like I’m letting you do this on your own.”

“Look, we’ll get out his wallet and you can keep it as collateral or something. Just in case something goes wrong.”

She stares at me and I know she’s wondering what the hell is going on in my head. I don’t know. Lately I feel like I’m knowing who I am less and less, so maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that I’m acting out of character. Or maybe this is my character now. Maybe I’m so starved for something different and new that I’m willing to haul a drunk guy to my house and use my parent’s old bedroom as a drunk tank.

“I should stay the night,” she says.

“It won’t be a problem,” I tell her.

“Famous last words.”

Five minutes later I’m pulling the van outside of the house. I peer up at it through the windshield. The lights are all off except for the lamp in the foyer and Pike’s room. We run a really tight ship when it comes to the electric bill, so lights out really means it’s lights out.

“This is ridiculous, you know that,” Annette says as she gets out.

“I know.”

Being as quiet as possible we slide open the van door and manage to get him out and into the house.

We whisper to each other as we attempt to get him up the stairs, trying to keep our voices down even though at one point the dude tilts to the left and nearly flattens me against the wall. It would almost be comical if it wasn’t such hard work. It would be even sexy under any other circumstance.

Finally, we get to the second floor and stagger down the hallway and around the corner to my parent’s old bedroom. I open the door and quickly flick on the light.

I don’t come in here very often. It’s like a tomb in some ways, the curtains are usually closed and everything is as it was before they died. None of us have the heart or the nerve to move things around much. I know the bed linens have been changed because we’ve had guests over and I’ve occasionally come in here to dust, but I don’t spend much time. The memories hurt.

Even now it feels like their ghosts are in the walls, shadows in the dark. Loving ghosts, but ghosts all the same. Reminders of lives that once were, a love I’d do anything to have back.

I swallow hard and bring my focus back to the guy as we get him backward onto the bed where he falls like a sawn tree, making the bed shake from the impact of his large frame.

Annette flips him over so he’s on his side and then brings out the wastebasket from the ensuite bathroom, placing it below him while I undo his boots.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to undress all of him,” she asks, brow raised.

“Shhh,” I say to her in a hush. “Keep your voice down.”

“Not answering my question.”

I ignore her and finish taking off his boots and with a sigh she starts struggling with his leather jacket, trying to remove it. He moans something softly, his eyes still closed, head flopping against the pillow as she finally gets it off him.

She sighs, folding the jacket up in her arms and staring down at him. “He really is handsome, isn’t he?”

I don’t say anything to that. I also don’t mention he’s wearing size 15 boots. I didn’t even know that size existed but it seems to coincide with the size of his dick.

When the other boot is off, I take the giant pair and place them against the wall as Annette puts the jacket down on the chair across from the bed. My mother always used that chair as a place to throw her uniform and clothes before crawling into bed. It was the only place and time she allowed herself to be messy and free. When morning came, everything was always neatly put away.

Annette gets an impish look in her eyes and suddenly reaches across the guy, her hands going for his pants.

“What are you doing?” I whisper harshly.

She bites her lip as she reaches around underneath his ass and then triumphantly pulls out his wallet.

“Ta-da.”

She flips it open and I come over to her side to peer at it.

There isn’t much to it. A Visa debit card with no name on it, a couple of bucks in cash, and picture ID. Annette takes it out of the slot and flips it over and back. It looks brand new, the black and white picture recent. It says Korkort Sverige on top, whatever that means, and below that Andersson Johan.

“Is Andersson is first name or last name?” she whispers to me. “Or his address?”

“Maybe his name is Korkort Sverige?”

“I think that’s Russian.”

“No, Russian uses a totally different alphabet.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Pike’s voice bursts through the room and both of us jump in surprise, the wallet flying out of Annette’s hands and onto the bed, landing right on Korkort Sverige’s broad chest.

I suck in my breath, waiting for him to wake up, but he only stirs slightly.

I turn to look at Pike who is staring at both of us incredulously, his hair mussed from sleep. “Why are you…” he takes a step toward us and his eyes go to the stranger’s legs sticking off the end of the bed. “Who the hell is that?”

“It’s a long story,” I tell him. “And keep your voice down.”

Pike looks to Annette expectantly. “What’s happening? Why are you both in here and who the hell is this guy on the bed?” He comes over to us and stares down at him. “Shit, is he dead?”

“No,” I tell him, putting my hands on his shoulders and pushing him back. “He’s very drunk and he’s sleeping it off here.”

“But who is he?”

“Korkort Sverige,” I tell him. “He’s foreign, he’s drunk, he was staying at the hotel and we saw him at the bar and it was either he stays here, or the cops put him in the drunk tank.”

He stares at me blankly. “And what was wrong with the drunk tank?”

“Look, I’m sure he’ll just wake up in the morning and be on his way.”

Pike is not convinced. I don’t blame him. I am absolutely crazy for doing this. Funny thing is, I haven’t felt this engaged about something in, well, in a long time.

“If you think I’m going to sleep a wink tonight with a stranger in the house, you are sadly mistaken,” he eventually grumbles. “I’m going to be stationed outside his door with a gun.”

I glare at him. I hate that he’s kept my parent’s guns, considering what happened to them. “It’ll be fine.”

“Well since Pike’s got a handle on this, I’m heading home,” Annette says. She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. “And I’m calling a cab. It’s probably best you stay here in case he wakes up. At least you’ll be a familiar face.”

If I am, it won’t be in a good way. “Are you sure?”

She’s already bringing out her phone and dialing as she walks past us. “I’m sure. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes, okay honey?” She gives Korkort one last look over her shoulder. “And good luck. I don’t approve of any of this but I supposed you have to make your own mistakes.”

When she’s left the room, I exchange a glance with Pike.

“What’s gotten into you?” he says to me.

“I honestly don’t know,” I say with a sigh. I reach over and pluck the wallet from his chest, holding it to me. If he tries anything, does anything, then at least I have proof of who he is.

Whoever he is.