“Don’t know that, either.”
“You don’t know much, do you?”
“I know you’re going to be my downfall,” Diesel said.
“And yet you persist in hanging around.”
“I have no control over it,” Diesel said. “It’s my destiny.”
“You’re the moth, and I’m the flame?”
“Yeah. It’s damn pathetic.”
I didn’t feel like a flame. I felt like an idiot. I had grass stuck to my shirt and dirt smudges on my jeans from rolling around with Shirley. I’d been so panicked, I could barely remember anything, except that I’d done a lot of ineffective slapping and screaming. If Diesel hadn’t stepped in, I’d be just another body rotting in the cemetery.
Diesel stopped for a light and grinned over at me. “You were holding your own.”
“I was terrified. That was the first time I’ve been in a fight. I’ve never even seen a fight in real life. I was just trying to keep her away from me.”
“Next time open your eyes.”
“First off, there isn’t going to be a next time. And second, I didn’t want to see her hit me in the face.”
“It’s been my experience that women don’t hit. They claw and kick and gouge. And the really nasty ones bite.”
“I didn’t want to see any of that, either. Do you have a history of duking it out with women?”
“No, but this wasn’t the first time I’ve had to wade into a catfight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The wind picked up and the light drizzle turned to a steady rain that slashed across the windshield. Diesel was moving south from the cemetery, following a side street through the center of Salem. A lone figure stood on the sidewalk half a block away. She was drenched to the skin, looking up into a tree.
“It’s Glo,” I said to Diesel. “Pull over.”
Diesel rolled to a stop beside Glo, and I lowered my window.
“What’s going on?” I yelled.
“It’s my broom. It’s stuck in the tree.”
I looked at the tree, but I couldn’t see a broom. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw it blow past the shop, so I ran out and followed it down the street. And now it’s stuck in the tree.”
Glo was wearing a short denim jacket, a short black skirt, black tights, and black motorcycle boots. Her red hair was plastered to her head, and water dripped from the hem of her skirt. She shielded her eyes from the rain with her hand and pointed to mid-level on the tree. “It’s a little more than halfway up,” she said.
“I have to see this,” Diesel said, cutting the engine, unbuckling his seat belt. “I know it’s pouring rain, but I’ll always wonder if I don’t see for myself.”
We both got out and stood in the rain, next to Glo. We followed her line of sight, and sure enough, there was a broom stuck in the tree.
“If you could boost me up, I could get the broom,” Glo said to Diesel.
Diesel lifted Glo to the first branch, and Glo scrambled the rest of the way. She reached the broom, wrapped her hands around it, and tugged.
“Shoot,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” I called up to her.