Blind Date

My gal pal Peggy jigsaw puzzled herself against Dan up front while I pinched myself into a corner in back. Plopped my purse between me and him. It was chock-full of supplies because trust me, you never know what you might need when. Especially on a blind date. A Snickers bar, nail file, Pepto-Bismol (for Peggy, not me).  Bayer aspirin, feminine products, change for the phone. Kleenex, Band-Aids, Certs (for Thomas, not me).

            I probably should say something at some point, I figured. So I don't come off as a total witch.  I squirmed inside my seatbelt. Rested my head against the window.
            “Thomas,” I said. “That’s kinda formal. What’s your family call you?”

            He picked at a zit scab inside his ear. “Toe-Joe.”

            I cough-gasped. “Think I’ll stick with Thomas.”

            Peggy twisted to face us. “So, Thomas. What’s in the leather case?”

            Thomas grinned which made his eyes even smaller. He yanked on the strap to draw the mystery into his lap.

            “My dad’s camera. It’s real expensive. He loaned it to me for Photography 101.”

            Peggy cooed. “So you wanna be a photographer?”

            He shrugged. “Just thought it’d be cool to get pictures at the Coliseum since all those people died there during the Who concert.”

            I watched Peggy’s face go funny. Then she made the bark-up-a-hairball noise that usually preceded her hurling.

            Dan reached back and wiggled his fingers. “Beer me, Toe Joe.”

            Peggy’s cheeks puffed out and her chin kept bobbing up and down. I leaned forward and massaged her shoulder.

            “Thomas,” I said loudly. Firmly. “We’re calling him Thomas tonight. Right, Peggy?”

            Thomas pressed a bottle into Dan’s hand.

            “That’s against the law, you know.” I said.

            “Like everyone doesn’t do it,” Thomas said as he opened one for himself.

            An hour later the sun had gone away and so had the beer.

            “Pitch those empties out the window, Toe.”

            I spoke over the roar of the wind rushing in. “So, you’re litterbugs too?”

            Dan chuckled. “Yep. We’re living large. Aren’t we, Toe?”

            “Thomas!” Peggy and I shouted.

            Five minutes later Thomas started having some kind of fit. He twisted this way and that. Bent forward and swept the floor with his hands.

            “Crap!” he said. “Stop the car!”

            Dan squinted at the rearview mirror. “Why?”

            “Turn around, man! I mean it!” Thomas said. “I think I threw my dad’s camera out with the bottles. We gotta go back.”

            Dan spun the car around in the middle of the road. Peggy clutched the grab bar with one hand and slapped her other over her mouth. Dan punched the accelerator and I gulped as the speedometer needle ratcheted toward the radio.

            “Speeding’s against the law too,” I said.

            Ca-clunk!

            “What was that?” Peggy gripped Dan’s arm. “What if— What if it was a cat? Or a—” She blanched under her blush. Started making the clicky hairball elimination noise again.

            I tapped Dan’s shoulder. “Go back,” I said.

            Dan’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. “No way.”
            “I’m telling you, turn around.”

            “Why?”
            I fished in my purse. Handed Peggy a baggie and Thomas the pack of tissues.     
            “’Cause that ca-clunk was you running over his daddy’s camera.”