Deardra in the Dugout
Standing, pouring her mothers neckless from hand to hand, I said, “How about me going and getting the gems and bringing them back?”
“Nope. I want to see your hideout. Let’s go.”
“Don’t you think you should get dressed?”
She looked down at herself, as though surprised. “We don’t have time.”
She took a long coat from her closet and slipped into it. “Let’s go.”
I laid the neckless on her dresser between a porcelain unicorn and a Miley Cyrus clock-radio. She motioned with her hand, “Don’t forget your loot, milkman.”
I dropped the neckless into my pocket and followed her.
A half block from my dugout I stopped. “You’re gonna have to be blindfolded from here on.”
“Oh, come on. I won’t tell anyone.”
“This is non-negotiable.”
We argued a bit, before she finally agreed to be blindfolded.
Holding her hand I wandered around to confuse her until we reached the dugout. Once there I removed the hatch and instructed her to climb down. She was nervous, her hand was wet with sweat.