96 Hours by Georgia Beers

bed.”
    “Crying?”
    Abby barked a laugh. “Maybe. She’s a hurtin’ unit, that’s for sure. I don’t think an evening of shots is a regular occurrence for her.”
    “I don’t think it’s a regular occurrence for any of us. But for her especially. In fact, I don’t think an evening of people is a regular occurrence for her.” He took a sip of his coffee and dipped his head appreciatively. Hot, black, and strong, just the way he liked it.
    “You got that impression, too?”
    “Oh, yeah. She seemed to loosen up, though.”
    “I thought she was fun.”
    “She was. And I think she actually strung more than two sentences together at one time.”
    “I think she’s just shy,” Abby said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.
    “Or an uptight bitch.” At Abby’s gasp, he grinned. “I’m kidding. Well, not about the uptight part. I don’t know her well enough to know if she’s a bitch.”
    “You’re terrible.”
    “She’s hot, though. What an ass on her.” Brian sucked air in through his teeth.
    “You have no idea.”
    “You tap that?”
    “What? No! But . . .” She let her voice trail off, a mischievous glint in her eye.
    Brian glanced at the closed basement door and lowered his voice, took a step toward Abby. “What? You saw something, didn’t you? Tell me!”
    “I can’t. It’s disrespectful.”
    Brian scoffed. “Oh, please. You were being far from respectful with the questions you were asking last night. No, you don’t get to fall back on respect.” At her look of hesitation, he decided to resort to begging. “Please, Abby. I’m divorced. I’m only in my thirties. Do you think celibacy does it for a guy like me? Come on, throw me a bone. Pun intended. Give me some material.”
    Abby hesitated. But one look at Brian’s face, at the hangdog expression and she thought, That’s what she gets for stripping in front of me like that. She relayed the whole story to Brian.
    “God.” Brian dropped into a chair as if his legs gave out. “My god.”
    “Guys are so easy,” Abby said with a good-natured eye-roll.
    “And you really didn’t hit that?”
    She cocked her head. “And that, my friend, is the difference between men and women. Call me crazy, but sleeping with an intoxicated, half-unconscious woman is not my idea of a good time.”
    Brian narrowed his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t think about it.”
    “Bri.” Abby leveled a gaze at him. “She was trashed.”
    His shoulders slumped and he blew out a breath. “Man, I hate my ex-wife. This divorce has turned me into a sex-crazed pig.”
    “Eh.” Abby waved him off dismissively. “You’re a guy. You didn’t have that far to go.”
    He laughed. “Hey, did you see Tim or Corinne this morning?”
    “Yup. Tim headed off to work and dropped Corinne at the Lions Club, so they could leave us these.” She dangled a set of keys in front of him.
    His eyes widened in disbelief. “Are those car keys?”
    “That they are.”
    “They left us a car?”
    “That they did.”
    “What is wrong with them?”
    Abby shrugged. “They’re Canadian.”

     
    They puttered for a few hours, letting Erica ease into the day and waiting for Michael to return from his run and then shower. By noon, Erica had swallowed (and kept down) a slice of dry toast and two cups of coffee, and all four of them were ready for a change of scenery, so they decided to go for a ride. Abby was elected to drive. Michael took shotgun while Brian and Erica piled into the back seat.
    It was another unseasonably warm day (or so the car radio reported) and Gander was beautiful. Lush and green, lusher than the flat, rural area where Erica had grown up, greener than the urban brick and mortar Abby knew.
    The town wasn’t big, so finding the main routes took only a little bit of driving, and Tim had left a map to make it that much easier. People were milling everywhere, up and down streets, hanging out in front of buildings, wandering aimlessly like zombies in a bad sci-fi