I asked my sister, who’d been heading down the sidewalk. As always, whenever I was around her, I blocked her from reading my mind. “To the bus stop. I’m not driving home. I’ve had a few.” Or more than a few. “You would’ve gotten a ticket for not continuing to feed the meter.” “I’ll just toss it in the glove compartment with the others.” She stopped to face me, her face lined with uncertainty. “You’d prefer that I drink and drive? You’re a cold-hearted bitch!” Although she twisted my intentions, since I planned to drive her home, I appreciated the insult. If we ever threw down again, Alexis might question how low I might go to defeat her. “I’m driving you home.” I held out my hand for the keys. “I’d rather take the bus.” She turned around, raised a hand, and waved goodbye. I hurried up to her. “What if the cops come and one of the bystanders fingers you?”
