Epilogue

[Fifteen years later... ]

I sat in my office reviewing the screen on my desktop. The department was half the size it was when I started here. Artificial intelligence and neural networks were now screening over half the claims being submitted.

Quitting time came and I headed out toward the ride center, manipulating my handheld to order my ride home. The parking lot now held only a handful of vehicles, while the crowd at the ride center was growing. I stood to the side, watching the traffic in the street perform an orderly ballet.

I saw my ride -- a silver sub-compact with red lettering of Journeys LTD on the door and illuminated signs reading, “Rollins.” The driverless car pulled to the curb by the ride center and I made my way toward it. The door slid open and I sat in the seat. A video display showed the route.

“Rollins ... destination 257 Grove Street,” came a synthesized voice from the display.

“Car, new destination. White’s Floral at Fifth and Grand.”

“Confirm new destination Fifth and Grand,” the voice replied.

“Car, confirmed,” I said, “Car, go.”

“Passengers will please fasten seat belts.”

I belted myself in and the car pulled from the curb, easily merging into the stream of traffic. It stopped at a strip mall not far from home and parked itself in the parking lot. “Your destination Fifth and Grand,” said the mechanized voice.

“Car, please wait,” I said. “Final destination will be 257 Grove.”

“Waiting.”

I hopped out and stepped into the floral shop, returning with a long white box. The car sensed my handheld approaching and the door slid open. I sat in the seat.

“Car, go,” I said and the vehicle headed for Grove. It pulled up to the duplex and stopped at the curb.

“Your destination 257 Grove Street,” said the synthesized voice. “Thank you for using Journeys LTD.”

I carried my case and the box to the front door and unlocked it. “Annette!” I called. “ANNETTE!”

Hearing nothing I headed up the stairs and found her in her room, lying on her bed with earbuds screwed into her ears and manipulating her handheld. I stood in the doorway until she noticed me, removed one of the buds from her ear and looked up at me.

“Annette -- I was calling you.”

“I didn’t hear you,” she replied.

“I wanted to make sure you got home from school okay.”

“Yes, no problems,” she replied.

“Have you done your homework?”

“Doing it now,” she said.

“Okay -- good. Don’t have those things too loud -- it can damage your hearing.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She reinserted the bud and resumed manipulating her handheld.

I stood in the doorway regarding her. Annette reminded me so much of Andrea at that age. Annette had Andrea’s blonde hair and blue eyes. She inherited her facial features from her mother -- good thing, too. She had my frame: tall and long-legged. At fifteen she was five-foot eight, two inches taller than her mother. Annette was a striking girl. She always stood out in class photographs and had since middle school.

She looked up at me and pulled out an earbud. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Can’t a dad look at his daughter?”

“Whatever.” She put the bud back in her ear.

I went into our bedroom and changed into jeans and a printed shirt, then I headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. On a baking dish was a note in Andrea’s handwriting. “Put in oven at 350 no need to pre-heat.” I removed the cling wrap, switched on the oven and slid the casserole in.

Next I headed through the basement landing pass-through to the other unit. My mother was sitting on a chair, knitting. “I hope to have this sweater finished for Annette by Christmas,” she said.

“Mom -- you do know that Annette is a fifteen-year-old with her own fashion sense and who wears a junior’s medium.”

“Of course. This pattern is classic ... timeless. I know she’ll love it.”

“You are coming for dinner -- you won’t forget and start cooking your own.”

“No, I won’t forget, Casey.”

I headed back to the B unit and stood looking out the bay window. Another silver and red sub-compact pulled to the curb. Its passenger stepped from the car in maroon scrubs and a puffy jacket.

“Casey,” she said as she stepped through the front door. “I think we should look for another transportation service.”

“You don’t like Journeys?” I asked.

“Tonight, I had to wait fifteen minutes for the car.”

“Fifteen minutes is within their terms of service,” I replied. “You could pay a surcharge for a priority ride.”

“When the car came, it was filthy and it smelled like a combination of body odor and rotten fish.”

“Did you annotate that in the app’s feedback?” I asked.

“No -- I don’t have time for that.”

“Then, don’t complain if you’re not going to report it. I like Journeys because they’re international, so if we travel we can use them.”

“When do we ever travel?”

“They’re reasonable. In-town rides are flat rate and they don’t surge price. Teens like Annette can call for rides and we can control the destinations she can choose. They send us a monthly invoice itemized by passenger, date, time, destination and distance so we can keep an eye on her travels. And, my mom can get around without us worrying about her.”

“I suppose...”

“And, it saves us the expense and hassle of owning cars.”

“Did you put the casserole in the oven?” she asked.

“Yes -- per directions. Three fifty, no pre-heating.”

“When did you put it in?” she asked.

“When I got home. I didn’t look at the time.”

“Then, how will we know when it’s done?”

“You’ll know when it’s done,” I replied. “You always do. I invited Mom for dinner. You always make more than enough tuna casserole for the three of us.”

“I think your mom needs to be in a different setting,” Andrea said. “She’s eighty-two. That unit isn’t appropriate for her.”

“We agreed after she broke her hip that she needed to be where we could keep an eye on her -- especially now that Walter’s gone.”

“She needs to be where everything is on one level,” she replied.

“My mom has no trouble with the stairs,” I retorted. “When she starts having trouble, then we’ll look for somewhere else. This is a cost-effective way to have her where we can be close to her.”

“Speaking of cost -- by having her in our rental unit, we’re losing out on rent.”

“We’re doing fine with your income and mine,” I replied. “We really don’t need the rental income.”

“I dunno,” Andrea said. “I liked having the extra income to put toward our forever home. By the way -- when are we going to plan for that?” She smacked her palm on her forehead. “I forgot. We already have our forever home ... here. It’s just not the one I was anticipating. I never thought we’d be here fifteen years, Casey. We should’ve gone for a fifteen year mortgage -- we’d own the place free and clear by now.”

“And we would have had to pay four hundred a month extra in carrying costs we couldn’t afford at the time. Andie -- we agreed to put our forever home hunting on hold while we tried for another child.”

“So, it’s my fault? Because I wanted another child but can’t bear one?”

“No -- we both wanted another child. It’s no one’s fault that the IVF embryos were non-viable. It just got to be too expensive. And, we ran out of time. If we had a child now, by the time he’s ready to leave home -- we’ll be ready to go into one.”

“You’re right. You’re right about everything.”

“By the way -- Mom is knitting Annette a sweater as a Christmas gift. I hope our daughter appreciates the effort she’s putting into it.”

“Annette loves her grandma,” Andrea replied. “She’ll cherish the sweater and she will wear it, although maybe not to school.”

“I think I figured out why grandparents and grandchildren get along so well,” I remarked. “They’re allies against a common enemy.”

For the first time since she had come home, Andrea cracked a smile. “You’re probably right.” She spotted the floral box. “What’s this? Who is this for?”

“For you,” I replied. “What day is this?”

“December seventeen.”

I handed the box to her. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, Casey ... I forgot all about it. I’m so sorry.” She opened the box. “Oh, I love these. Take down that green vase -- they’ll look perfect in it.”

I handed her the vase. “When you come home itching for a fight, I know something must’ve happened at the hospital. Care to tell me about it?”

She sat at the kitchen table, planted her elbows on it and supported her face on her hands. “Oh, God, Casey ... We had a management meeting today and decided we have to fire Lucinda. Since she’s on my team, I have to break the news to her ... tomorrow. I’m dreading it. It’s the first time since I was made a supervisor I’ve had to fire someone.”

“I remember when I was first offered a supervisor’s position,” I said. “I told Carla I didn’t think I could fire someone. She told me that if someone isn’t fitting in, it’s likely they’re unhappy, too. Terminating someone can be a kindness, and it’s healthy for the organization.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied.

“In a hospital setting, having a misfit isn’t just bad for the organization. I could be downright deadly for the patients. Think of it that way.”

“You’re definitely right about that. Lucinda has made some mistakes...”

“Be strong and think of the welfare of your patients. Make it short and simple. The decision has been made and you’re just the messenger. Nine times out of ten they know this is coming anyway.”

“Thanks ... thanks for the pep talk, Casey.”

“I have another anniversary surprise -- a bottle of bubbly in the fridge. It’s not Champagne -- it’s a cremant but very good -- and, it should go well with your casserole.”

She peeked into the oven. “Maybe another fifteen minutes -- gives me time to change.”

Andrea descended the stairs with Annette in tow. I took the bottle of bubbly from the fridge and placed four wine glasses on the table.

“Annette,” Andrea said, “would you go tell Grandma that dinner is ready?”

“Sure...” Annette went into the other unit and returned with my mom.

We sat at the dining table and I poured the wine. “Mom?” I asked.

“Half a glass,” she replied.

I filled my glass and Andrea’s. Then I turned to Annette’s and filled it half way.

“Why are you giving me this?” Annette asked. “I’m not twenty-one.”

“I think,” I replied, “that young people treat alcohol as a forbidden fruit. I think it’s healthy for you to experience it in a family setting so you can appreciate it and respect it. I had my first taste of beer at about your age. It’s legal in a family setting.” I held up my glass. “Andie and I celebrate this date as our anniversary because it was on this day, sixteen years ago, that we reconnected and changed both our lives forever.”

“Forever for the good,” Andrea added.

“To our anniversary,” I said and we clinked glasses all around.

Annette sipped hers hesitantly. “What do you think?” I asked.

“It feels warm going down,” she replied. “I like it. I think I feel it in my knees.”

“That’s where I feel it, too.” Andrea replied.

“Me, too,” added my mother.

Andrea spooned tuna casserole from the baking dish onto our plates. “This is very good,” I said.

“Yes, you make a very good tuna casserole,” my mom added. She turned to her granddaughter. “Annette -- how was school today?”

“Fine,” Annette replied.

“What did you learn today?” my mom asked.

Our daughter shrugged. “Nothing really.”

“Nothing?” I replied. “How can you go there and learn nothing?”

“Well -- I learned that Greg Decker has a new car ... or, at least his dad does. It’s a 2020 Dodge Challenger in mint condition.”

“Where does he find gas for it?” I asked. “And, if he does, how does he afford it?”

“Greg said it’s been converted to CNG.”

“What’s CNG?” Andrea asked.

Annette rolled her eyes. “Compressed natural gas.”

“That’s still widely available,” I remarked, “although not necessarily as an auto fuel.”

“Greg took me and Molly Parmenter for a ride in it,” Annette added. “It’s really fast.”

“They let you out of the building?” Andrea asked.

“Yeah -- it’s a perk of being on honor roll. I can come and go as I please -- so long as I have my student ID with me. Molly’s on honor roll, too. The other girls are soooo jealous.”

“I’ll bet they are,” Andrea replied. “Is Greg on honor roll?”

Annette made a little snort. “Are you kidding?”

“Then how was he let out of the building?”

“He made up some excuse,” Annette replied, “and the hall monitor gave him a pass. Greg’s real smooth that way. He asked me about Junior Prom. He wants me to go with him.”

“When is prom?” Andrea asked.

“It’s in April,” our daughter replied.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him yes.”

“Shouldn’t you have checked with us first?” I asked. She rolled her eyes again. “We hardly know him.”

“You’ll get to know him. We’re going steady.”

“I would love to have a picture of you in your prom dress,” my mother interjected. “I’ll bet you’ll be so pretty.”

Andrea and I sat in the front room playing cribbage. I sat back and regarded her as she shuffled the deck. “You’re so pretty,” I said. “You should let your hair grow. I loved it when it was long and halfway down your back.”

“I don’t think that’s an age-appropriate look,” she replied. “Besides...” She stroked her shoulder-length hair. “This is more convenient for my work as a nurse.”

I heard Annette showering in the bathroom upstairs. “I do not understand why she needs to take twenty minute showers.”

“It would be nice to have two baths,” Andrea replied. “And no -- I’m not trying to pick a fight about the house. I was in a really bad mood today and I am sorry for being so mean and nasty to you.”

“If you can’t be mean and nasty to your loved ones -- who can you be mean and nasty to? I forgive you, Andie.”

“I’m so sorry I forgot about our anniversary. I can’t believe I did.”

“It’s all right -- I remembered it. I love you.”

“I know you do.”

We played hands until the sound of the shower ceased. I put away the cribbage board and cards. Holding hands we went upstairs.

Andrea headed to the bathroom for her nightly routine. I stripped to my briefs, switched the nightstand lamp on low, retrieved a box from the closet and set it on the bed. Then I turned down the covers and slid between the sheets, sitting up with my back against the headboard.

Returning from the bathroom in her robe Andrea spotted the box on the bed. “What’s this?”

“Another anniversary surprise,” I replied.

She opened the box and removed a short nightgown in black satin with matching thong. “Casey -- I wish you wouldn’t. Lingerie just doesn’t look good on me any more. My figure has ... changed.”

“Your figure is just as sexy as it was sixteen years ago,” I replied. “It’s just sexy in a different way.”

“Right -- my tummy is rounder...”

“So is mine,” I interjected.

“My hips and thighs are wider. My butt is bigger.” She picked up a pair of sheer black stockings from the box. “And, what’s with these? Have you developed a nylon fetish?”

“Not at all. I like the way the sheer black shades the curves in your calves.”

“I’ll tell you about curves in my calves. The other day I was going through our closet and I found a pair of tall boots I used to wear. I tried them on and couldn’t get them zipped.”

“Maybe they shrank,” I said.

“Nice try.”

“I love seeing curves on you -- especially age-appropriate curves.”

She took the box into the bathroom. “I’ll try these on but no promises.”

Andrea emerged from the bathroom, slipped out of her robe and modeled the gown. Its hem was cut high on her left side, about midway between her ribs and her hipbone, exposing her hip and the waistband of the thong. It was cut in a diagonal to cover her right hip. In back, the angles were reversed, exposing her right hip and most of her right buttock. “I actually like this,” she said. “The thong is more like a G-string and rides high -- I think it flatters my hips.”

“Your hips need no flattery.”

“You made a good choice, Casey. I actually feel sexy in it. Sexier than in a long time. Thank you.” She regarded me. “When you sit up like that I know you want one thing. I hope you don’t have too high expectations -- I’m still upset.” She sat between my thighs and leaned against my chest.

I put my arms around her waist and began kissing and nuzzling her neck and shoulders. “Your shorter hair makes this easier,” I remarked.

“Mmm ... You know I like that.” I cupped my hands under her breasts and began gently stroking them with my thumbs. “And you know I like that ... Mmm ... You’re putting me at ease...”

Her nipples firmed and I fondled them through the smooth satin while continuing my kissing and nuzzling. She drew in a breath and began making contented murmurs in the back of her throat.

I slid her shoulder straps down her arms and uncovered her breasts. “Even after all these years,” I said, “seeing your breasts gives me the same thrill as the first time.” I began rolling her now firm nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

She drew up her feet and spread her thighs. I accepted her invitation to stroke her mons and labia through the fabric of her thong. “That feels nice, too,” she said softly. Through the fabric I could feel her clit starting to firm.

Andrea sat forward and slid from between my legs. She lay on her side, her shoulder straps still down her arms and her breasts uncovered. “Casey -- nurse,” she said.

I lay on my side facing her chest and teased her right nipple with my tongue. Then I drew her flesh into my mouth and began nursing. Within a second she let her milk down and the sweet fluid filled my mouth.

In fifteen years we had hardly missed a day of this ritual, whether during sex or simply a loving interlude before falling asleep. Our nightly nursing had maintained her milk, at least sufficiently for our needs.

She lifted her leg and I slipped my knee between her thighs. She pressed and rocked her pussy against it as I nursed. “I need this, Casey,” she said. “Especially after today. I love you so much...”

Her milk depleted, I kissed her breast and looked up at her pretty face. “Andie -- I’m more than happy to be your lightning rod. We’ve been together long enough for me to know when you need to ventilate.”

“You are so patient with me,” she replied. I shifted my position and began nursing her left breast and feeling her accelerating heartbeats through her flesh.

“Mmm...” Her breathing began to deepen and I could feel her ribs moving under her breast. I nursed her left breast until it was dry and continued massaging her nipple with my tongue as she held my face tight against her chest.

Finally she let go of me and rolled onto her back. “Make me come,” she said.

“Fingers or tongue?” I asked.

“Surprise me.”

She lifted her hips and I slid her thong down her stocking covered legs and set it on the foot of the bed. Smoothing my palm across the sheer nylon of her stockings I caressed her legs, exploring the shapes of the muscles in her calves and the tendons behind her knees. Moving up I caressed her thighs and nuzzled her natural golden bush.

Then, I spread her lips and began tonguing her clit with a slow but forceful back-and-forth motion. I could feel it swell as it became engorged from her mounting arousal. Once it was fully erect I switched to a sucking action. Andrea closed her eyes and rolled her face to one side. “That feels really good,” she said. “It’s building fast ... won’t take me long...”

I worked my right arm under myself so I could slide two fingers into her vagina as I continued my tonguing. I began stroking her inside and fondling her breasts with my left hand, switching from side to side. She began panting through wide-open mouth. “Don’t change it,” she gasped. “Casey -- I’m gonna come!”

Her legs began to shake as she attempted to suppress her moans, which sounded like strangulated squeaking in the back of her throat. I continued my stroking and tonguing until she slipped her hand under my chin.

Andrea opened her arms to me. We embraced and kissed -- we kissed passionate ones and tender ones. We kissed with tongues caressing each other. We covered each other’s faces with kisses. “I needed that so bad,” she said.

I rolled onto my back and she slid my briefs off my legs. Andrea lifted the gown over her head and set it on the bed. Then she paused to love my stiffly erect manhood, kissing the length of its shaft and planting a lingering one on my glans.

I held it at its base and steered it into her pussy as she lay atop me. Holding her tight I began rotating my hips as she began thrusting hers up and down. I put my hand on her buttock and caressed it as she thrust. By flexing muscles in my bottom I pushed myself closer to orgasm. Then, it happened -- an explosion of sensations in my loins and the accompanying spasms that pumped my fluids into her.

“I felt that,” she said. She relaxed atop me and I caressed her back. “Don’t leave.”

Slowly the starch drained from my erection and it shrank and slipped out of her. I felt the familiar ooze of our combined juices running down the inside of my thigh. “Are you going to fall asleep on top of me?” I asked.

“No.” She kissed my cheek. “Not tonight.” She climbed off of me. I switched off the light, held her under my arm and she cuddled against me. “I will sleep easily tonight, though,” she said. “I always do after we make love.”

I sat at the kitchen table with a ham and cheese sandwich and a bottle of Molson’s before me. Andrea approached carrying a tuna salad sandwich and another Molson’s. It was a warm April Saturday and I regarded her -- she wore a short denim skirt and a short-sleeved blouse.

Annette bounded down the stairs in running shorts and a tank. “I see the car coming,” she said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Where’s she going?” I asked.

“To Molly’s. I authorized her house as a destination so Annette could order a ride there. She’ll order a ride home when she’s done.”

“What’s she doing at Molly’s?”

“They’re doing each other’s hair, nails and makeup for tonight.”

“God, I hope she doesn’t come home looking like a cheap street-walker,” I remarked.

“I spoke to Molly’s mom. She’ll try to keep a lid on it so they don’t go too far overboard. What do you think of her going with Greg Decker?”

“I’m not without concerns,” I replied. “Greg reminds me too much of the wrong sorts or boys I knew in high school.”

“Agreed -- although she’s been on dates with him and he seems polite. He was okay when we invited him to dinner. I asked her about some of the friends she had in middle school -- like that nice Indian boy, Ashok. They were quite friendly in the sixth and seventh grades.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She said Ashok was too short and too much of a geek. She and Molly have been admitted into the Cool Girls clique, I’m afraid. Geeks, nerds and girls who date them need not apply.”

Andrea finished her sandwich and beer. She picked up her purse. “I need to run out for groceries. I’ll be back in time to help Annette get ready.” A signal came from her purse and she removed her handheld. “The ride I ordered is here.” She kissed my cheek and headed toward the front door.

I policed up the kitchen, then headed upstairs and retrieved a box of condoms I had bought earlier from a case in our closet. Back in the front room downstairs I paced, waiting. A silver and red Journeys car stopped at the curb and Annette stepped out. She came in the front door and headed for the stairs.

“Hold up,” I said, “let me take a look at you.”

She stood before me and I regarded her hair and face. Her hair was done in a well-executed French braid and tied with a blue ribbon. She wore light blue eye shadow with some glitter on her eyelids and some fine liner. Some blush had been applied sparingly to her cheeks.

“How do I look?” she asked. “Do I pass inspection?”

“You look lovely, Annette. I can’t wait to see you in your dress.” She again headed for the stairs. “Not so fast.”

“Now, what?” she asked.

I opened the box and removed a strip of condoms. “I want you to put this in your purse.”

“What are those?”

“Condoms. I understand your mother had ... The Talk with you.” I made the air-quotes gesture.

“The talk?”

“About sex.”

Annette rolled her eyes. “Yes and she didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

“You obviously didn’t know about condoms.”

“I ... I’ve heard of them but never seen one. It goes on the boy’s...”

“Penis. Come here.” She followed me into the kitchen and I took a banana from a bowl. “Hold this up. You know what this is a stand-in for.” I tore one of the condoms from the strip and ripped open the wrapper. “You put it on the tip so it can unroll all the way down...” I demonstrated how to unroll one. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Keep the rest of these in your purse.”

“Daddy -- why are you giving these to me?”

“So you’re prepared. Annette -- the fact that I want you to have these does not mean you have your mother’s or my permission to engage in sex. You are too young, and any such behavior will be punished. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy ... but...”

“I remember what it was like to be a teen. Despite your best intentions, sometimes emotions or hormones ... or, the situation itself can overrule common sense. I love you. Your mother loves you. We don’t want to see any harm come to you and an unwanted pregnancy would harm you.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, Daddy -- I understand.”

“I want you to have fun tonight, but I also want you to be safe. I don’t know what I’d do if any harm came to you. I programmed your ride app with a red emergency button. That will summon a car for a priority ride back here. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re uncomfortable -- use it. We want you home and safe. We’ll pick up any pieces in the morning. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I love you, Annette.”

Annette gave me a hug unlike any I had felt from her since the day she became a teen. “I love you, too, Daddy. I’m going to put my dress on.”

She headed up to her room and I followed her to stash the rest of the condoms in my case. I removed the one from the banana and tossed it and its wrapper in the trash.

A glimpse of a silver and red car pulling up to the curb caught my eye. I headed outside and carried a couple bags of groceries from the car’s trunk into the duplex.

“Annette’s back from getting all dolled up,” I remarked.

“How did she look?”

“Pretty damn nice, actually. She’s a beautiful girl, Andie. Of course we knew that. She’s upstairs putting her dress on.”

“I’ll see if she needs any help.” Andrea headed up the stairs. Shortly the two of them descended...

Annette was in a blue evening gown. The top was sleeveless with a modest scoop neckline and the skirt’s hem was below her knees with a mid-thigh high slit on the right side. Annette wore sheer blue hose, black heels and she carried a black envelope purse belonging to her mother. A chain with a light blue stone and matching earrings completed her outfit.

“You look beautiful,” I said. I stepped through the passageway and rapped on the door to the A unit. My mother opened it. “Mom -- come look at Annette.”

My mother stepped through. “Oh, aren’t you gorgeous. Andie -- make sure to get some pictures.”

As Andrea took out her handheld and snapped pictures a roar approached from the west and grew louder until it was in front of our duplex. I opened the door and saw something I hadn’t seen on the road in years -- a red Dodge Challenger. The driver gunned it one more time before shutting off the engine. Then he got out and approached our door.

“Mr Rollins ... Mrs Rollins -- I’m here for Annette.”

“Hi, Greg,” Annette said shyly.

“Oh, I brought you this.” He held up a clear plastic container with a wrist corsage inside. He opened it and slid it onto Annette’s left wrist.

“What are your plans?” Andrea asked.

“Me and some guys are gonna get together with our dates at The Palace for a milkshake,” Greg said. “Prom is from six to nine at the school gym and after we got a party at Brent Woods’s place. Brent is Molly’s date so we’re going over there to pick her up.”

“Will there be adult supervision at the party?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Greg replied. “Brent’s folks will be there. They’re cool.”

“Have her back here by eleven,” Andrea said.

“Eleven!” Annette protested. “The party’s going to midnight at least.”

“Back at midnight, then,” Andrea replied. “Have a good time, you two.”

I watched as Annette headed toward the Challenger. A young man in the passenger seat got out and folded the seat forward so she could climb in the back. The two men climbed in. Greg started the engine and the car peeled out leaving black streaks on the pavement.