Page 6 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

The match eventually regains our attention when the Manta Rays catch up with the Gators, tying the game with seconds left in the quarter.

4

Snake Bitch

Artemis

The phone ringing wakes me from a deep, alcohol-induced sleep. "Hello?" I say blearily into the phone, keeping my eyesshut. Work later is going to suck if I can't get rid of the pressure behind my eyes.

"Hey! So what about me moving to Timber Hollow?" Sam's obnoxiously bright voice cheerfully fills my ear.

This is not the first time we have had this conversation, lamenting the new long-distance nature of our friendship. Immediately, I groan, "Ugh, yes, please, I need my snake bitch back."

Using the heel of my palm, I rub sleep from my eyes, and before I can ask what happened, my friend speaks again.

"Great! My flight lands at two." Sam laughs.

"Wait, really?" Awareness spears through me like a bolt of lightning, and I sit upentirelytoo fast, making my head spin just a little.

"Yup!" She laughs again, and just like that, my day is looking better already.

"Where are you?" I ask, running through my day in my head.

"Ohio."

"Random?"

"My flights were switched around at the last minute, and I ended up with a weird layover."

"I feel like we've skipped over some details," I mumble, and Sam laughs. "If you wanna hang on the couch for a few days, you can move into my house."

"Why the couch first? Aren't you sleeping under Jay every night?" Sam jibes, though I can hear the smile in her voice.

"We're moving into the new house in a few days, and my cousin Marcus is back tomorrow, so he's taking his room–my room back. When we move out, you can have your pick of the rooms,Sassy ass."

Sam snorts but says, "Sounds great."

"Do you need a job? I know it's not design work, but the bar is still looking for a new Coyote. You can slap people around with me." It seems weird to think that Aggie was setting me up here a few months ago, and now I'm giving Sam the same treatment.

"You know what, I think that is exactly what I need." Sam laughs, and I chuckle.

"Alright. Let me call Ivy and tell her I found her a bartender. You said your flight lands at two?"

"Sure did," Said flight announcements blare in the background, obnoxiously loud. The timing will be tricky since I'm supposed to be getting ready for work in about fifteen minutes.

"Wait, where's your Bronco?" I blurt. Sam loves that thing; there's no way she left it behind. She had the entire engine swapped a while back, replacing it with one that doesn't dump shit into the atmosphere with every press of the gas pedal. Give Sam a few gin martinis; she will boast that the pristine interior is vintage stock.

"Shipped it, I didn't want to drive the whole way."

"Wimp," I tease, laughing at my friend.

"Not all of us leave everything behind with only a backpack in tow," She jibes back. Even through the phone, I hear the hurt under the humor in her voice.

"You know what I deserved that." When I left California all those months ago, I hadn't even told her until halfway across the country. She'd berated me over the phone for quite some time while I sat in a dingy little diner just off the freeway for not telling her.

"Sure did." Sam agrees.

"When does your bucky baby Bronco get here?" I ask, listening to my friend grumble to herself about people walking like assholes in the airport terminal.