Song for the Dead: An Ada Palomino Novel, стр. 23
I drag my suitcase down the path as he rolls down the window and grins at me. I have to admit, he suits this car extremely well.
“Get in, loser,” he says to me.
“So you finally saw Mean Girls,” I comment.
“Mean Girls?” He frowns and gets out of the car. “Let me.” He takes the suitcase from me like it weighs as much as a feather and opens the trunk, tossing it in.
“This car is amazing,” I tell him, running my hand over the roof.
“I know,” he says, then turns and raises his hand to my father who is still standing in the front door, watching us. “I’ll return her in one piece, Mr. Palomino. You trust me.”
“I trust you,” he says, nodding. He smiles at me. “Love you, Ada.”
Then he turns around and goes inside.
I shake my head, eyeing Max with awe. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to start calling you Ginger Jedi now.”
“That’s a nickname I can live with,” he says with a smirk. “Now come on, the open road is calling.”
He gets behind the wheel and I hurry over to the passenger side, sliding onto the soft black leather seats, tossing my jacket in the back where it lands on his leather jacket.
“You have a leather jacket now?” I ask. “We can’t wear them at the same time.”
“Why not?” he asks, revving the engine until the whole car shakes. “We’re a team.”
“A team of demon slayers. Not dorks.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Then he slams the gear, steps on the gas, and we go rocketing forward down the road, so fast that I’m pressed back into the seat, frantically trying to buckle my seatbelt.
“And you were giving me shit about driving!?” I yell at him as we reach the end of the cul-de-sac. He burns it around, doing a donut, and I’m holding onto the oh shit handle with all my might until we straighten out.
We zoom past my house just in time for me to see my dad at the living room window, waving cheerfully at us. Dear god.
Max laughs maniacally as we speed down the road, obviously enjoying the look of fear on my face. “Now you know how it feels,” he says.
“You know we could have taken my car.”
“Then you’d be driving,” he points out. “No way.”
I cross my arms and then look in the back. “When did you get that jacket anyway? Is it Sage’s?”
“No, I went to the store and bought it. That place you and Perry dragged me to.”
“All Saints?” I reach back and grab the jacket, looking at it. It’s black with moto quilting on the shoulders. Pretty slick. Actually, I think it’s the same one I made him try on before Perry nixed the idea when she saw the price.
“Yeah,” he says. “I remember you said it looked good on me.”
I study him for a moment. He looks completely earnest, if not a little bashful for admitting that.
“I have to say, I’m touched my opinion matters to you.”
He glances at me quickly, eyes soft, the green looking more mint today. “Of course it does.”
A long, strangely weighted moment passes between us, making me shift in my seat. “When it comes to fashion, of course,” I hastily add.
He nods. “Naturally.”
“So, wait, how were you able to go to the store without me?”
He shrugs, attention back to the road. “Same way I was able to buy this car.”
“As a ghost?”
“It doesn’t work quite like that.”
“So how does it work? Because I have to say, it’s been a few days and it’s been kind of hard to deal with the whole ‘I’m keeping you alive’ thing. It’s a lot of pressure for little ol’ me.”
He flashes me a sad smile. “I know. I’m still figuring it out.” He sighs, kneading the steering wheel. “But so far, I reckon I can be apart from you as long as I see you at some point in the day. Is it every twenty-four hours? More? Less? Guess we won’t know for a while. You’re stuck with me, darlin’. It’s why I haven’t stayed at my apartment yet.”
“But do you feel any different when you’re away from me? Like…you’re losing…life?”
“It’s more like losing a charge. Battery draining. But no one could tell by looking at me. It’s not like I was going transparent. I would have noticed.”
“And when you’re with me you get charged again?”
“I guess.”
“What happens when I touch you?”
I reach out and place my hand over his on the steering wheel. He frowns, giving me a look I can’t read. “Does that do anything for you?” I ask. Because I can feel a bit of energy, a bit of warmth, running from my palm to the top of his hand.
He clears his throat, looking twitchy. “Maybe.”
I take my hand away. It buzzes slightly. I think back to the times I’ve touched him or he’s touched me to see if I’ve felt something similar. I mean, I guess? We’ve been pretty physical with each other because of our training, but I’m so in the zone at those times that if I felt sparks every time I touched him, I don’t think I would have noticed. Besides, everything is sparking when I’m running on that energy.
“Do you feel drained?” he asks after a moment.
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“Well, at least there’s that.”
We drive in silence for a bit until we make our way out of Portland and onto the I-5 heading south. Then, about an hour in, Max surprises me by taking the exit through Eugene to Florence on the Oregon Coast.
“Where are we going?”
“Taking the scenic route,” he says.
I take out my phone and start going through the maps, zooming in and out of the country. “The interstates are so much quicker. We could cut through to Bend and then through Idaho and Salt Lake City.”
“We could,” he says lightly. “Or we could go down the coast. Oregon, California. Go to the beach, watch