Chapter Twelve
After listening to my burly cab driver carry on about the Phillies’ need for a new manager for the past half hour—during which I placated his bloodlust by explaining that we’re only one month into the sixth-month baseball season—we reach Ronni’s apartment in Northeast Philly. Suffice it to say, after navigating through the initial wave of rush hour traffic in a driving rainstorm, I could have rented a car for the same price as the fare.
I pull the cash out of my pocket and count up the fare. I wish I still had my credit card. Since I’ll soon assume a new life as Kevin Stewart, I could really go buck wild. The creditors would never find me.
Before I finish counting the cash, the driver—his name is Joe—grabs my attention with a whistle. “Who’s that?”
I look up and see Ronni bounding out of her apartment and into the parking lot. She, like the real me, is wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants. I’m still in disguise as Hipster Boy.
“Now I see why you had me drive all the way up here.”
“Pretty much.”
“You ever, you know, hooked up with an Asian chick before?”
“No.”
I roll my eyes. Meanwhile, Ronni climbs into her Civic and turns the ignition.
“Uh-oh,” Joe says. “You want me to follow her?”
“Yes. Please. If you don’t mind.”
“Nope.”
The cab driver follows suit. “Was she expecting you?”
“No, but I expected her to be home. She told me she was sick.”
Joe shrugs. “Maybe she’s just going to the drugstore.”