Duada pressed, a plaintive note to his voice. He was awkwardly squeezed into the backseat of Jasmine’s little red Ford Taurus as she drove home. She had refused to let him sit in the front beside her, afraid that someone might see them together. In this part of town, everybody knew each other. Which, of course, meant that the rumor mill was in constant circulation. Eyes were everywhere. Nobody could be trusted. Besides, he wouldn’t stop fiddling with everything, and the last thing Jasmine needed at the moment was for his meddling fingers to cause an accident. And there were fewer buttons for him to mess with in the backseat. She was already feeling nervous about having him in the car, period, much less sitting beside her where he could do something crazy like take the wheel or yank the emergency brake. There was no telling what he would do, and since he clearly had a fairly loose grasp of human-made mechanics, she wasn’t taking any chances.
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