I'm expected home by midnight."Stunned, I checked her expression to see if she was serious. She was. "It's Sammy," I corrected her."Yes, I remember. I...ll call you Sammy and you call me Mrs. Ramos," she said, reaching for her drink. "Ah, the perfect drink. You're the driver and I'm the screw. Is that what you were thinking, Sammy?" I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, Mrs. Ramos," I lied."Lying doesn't become you, Sammy. I know you're accustomed to getting what you want. You saw me and said. Beth's husband Frank was on a futon mattress upon the folded rear seats, sleeping on and off, rising to join in conversation now and then.It was June, the season of weddings and reunions, family get togethers. Beth and Joan found each other again on facebook. They were like reunited sisters, best friends forever, together again. They acted like preteens at a slumber party, whispering, giggling, talking about girly things: boys, sex, music, clothes, boys.Frank and I got along well, enjoyed each. More

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