Page 30 of Chasing Stardust

I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s in it for you?”

“What do you mean?” He turns his book over in his hands a few times before laying it face down on the table. “Can’t a guy simply want to do the right thing? Is it wrong of me to want to help you?”

“Not at all.” With my voice of reason battling the newly awakened adventurous spirit for control, a dark laugh bubbles out of me. “But I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to trusting men.”

He arches a brow. “I’m not Travis. Or the guy in Cleveland, for that matter.”

Or Damian, but Dash doesn’t know me well enough to realize he’s being compared to him, too.

“I know that.” Jeanie’s warnings flash in my peripheral vision, and I stare him down like the criminal he could be. “But how do I know you’re not trying to lure me into the desert so you can kill me?”

He laughs. “Memphis isn’t in the desert. Come on, Zoey, road trips get boring. There are only so many diners you can eat at before you start getting lonely.”

“Get a puppy. Dogs love car rides.” I grab my tote and scoot toward the end of the bench.

“Wait!” He tugs on his hair. “You’re so stubborn. Why won’t you let me help you?”

With my tote in my lap, I lean forward until my chest rests on Mom’s urn and lock my eyes on his—first the brown, then the blue one. “Because I don’t buy it. No one sacrifices their summer vacation for someone else without some level of self-interest.”

A sliver of guilt works its way under my skin as I realize the ugly truth in my statement. Didn’t I tell Jeanie I wanted Mom all to myself, if only for a little while? Maybe I was even a little relieved she couldn’t make the trip. Doesn’t that make me selfish?

“Damn. You’re relentless.” Dash goes back to shredding napkins, adding them to his growing pile of casualties.

“Me?” I snatch the napkin holder, dragging it to my side before he kills again. “You’re the one dipping out on his own road trip to tag along on mine. Do you always pick up randos in the middle of nowhere? Because a habit like that could be bad for your health.”

“No.” He chuckles and relaxes into the booth again. “I’ve never picked up a stranger in a diner before.”

“Then why me?” I glance down at my dirty hoodie and catch a whiff of my stale-flower odor. “Must be my dazzling personality.”

“Okay, fine.” He shakes his head, accepting defeat with a laugh. “I set out on this trip because I have three weeks to make the most important decision I’ve ever had to make—a choice that will decide the path I take for the rest of my life—and I have absolutely no idea what to do. Helping you gives me a much-needed distraction. And yeah, maybe I’m a little curious about your secret connection with Ziggy Stardust. I wasn’t kidding when I said my mom loved Bowie. She’s practically a Bowie encyclopedia, and thanks to her, so am I. Your adventure sounds way better than mine, and maybe . . .” He leans closer, lowering his voice to a low purr. “Part of me wants to come along for the ride.”

9

Suffragette City

Becky throws me a smile, and I mouth “thank you” for letting me use the diner’s phone. Like everything else in BB’s, it’s retro—a bubble-gum-pink, wall-mounted model with a long spiral cord tethering the handset to the base and rotary dial that takes me several tries to figure out. I send up a silent thanks that G-Lo’s is one of the three phone numbers I have memorized.

“What should I do?” I pivot toward the dining room, wrapping the curly cord around myself in the process.

G-Lo took the news of the Betty’s fate a lot better than my estranged boyfriend. After making the walls in BB’s shake with his furious tantrum, Damian demanded I give him my exact location so he could come save me—an idea I shot down immediately. I can only imagine how he’d react if he knew about Dash. That I’d rather hitch a ride with a total stranger than allow my boyfriend to swoop in and rescue me should tell me all I need to know about our doomed relationship. For the first time in maybe forever, I’m glad my phone died.

“I can’t stay here, camped out in a diner for a week like some weirdo, but what’s the alternative? Hop in the car with a guy I met five hours ago and hope he doesn’t throw me in a wood chipper somewhere? Would you take that chance?”

“Is he cute?” G-Lo whispers through the phone as if she knows people are listening. Knowing Jeanie, she is.

With a nervous tingle blooming in my stomach, I glance at Dash, squirming in our booth across the room while waiting for me to decide his fate. Behind the glasses, his eyes draw me in, making me forget to breathe. Cute doesn’t come close to describing him. “He’s not bad.”

“I could never turn down a cute boy.” G-Lo sighs like a teenage girl.

“What if he’s a serial killer? Ask her that!” Jeanie screams in the background. “They said Ted Bundy was cute, too, you know!”

“Hold on, Zoey.” G-Lo whispers something, but I can’t make out what. After a few seconds of hissing back and forth, G-Lo comes back on the line. “What does your gut tell you?”

“Her guts will be telling the police what she had for breakfast if she’s not careful!” Jeanie shrieks.

“No they won’t,” G-Lo snaps at Jeanie. “Now, that’s enough. Go smoke a bowl while I finish talking to your sister.”

I can’t tell if she’s trying to scold Jeanie or soothe her, but Jeanie’s voice gets fainter as she takes her tirade into another room.