“So where are we headed?” Bernie said. We were in Ray’s car, Ray driving, Bernie beside him, me in back.
Ray glanced at the note Bernie had written on the cocktail napkin. He licked his lips. “How about if that’s a surprise?”
Bernie smiled a little smile. But I didn’t get the surprise part because just before we made any move, like getting off the freeway or turning onto a street, Bernie pointed out the direction. So Bernie was in control, right? Well, why not? When Bernie was in control everything worked out. This urge I was having to kind of sink my teeth into the back of Ray’s neck gradually subsided.
And soon, guess what? We turned onto our own street, Mesquite Road. We were going home? Home is the hunter, Bernie says. Don’t know why that popped into my mind. The mind: a subject for another time.
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