Quarantining with Covid sucks, but it has given me a chance to do some editing, so there's that.

Thanks for all the feedback and comments on the previous chapter. They are appreciated. :-)

"…and this is us at the Grand Canyon. Yeah, Lucille needed to be washed at that point, but me and Cory thought she should see the canyon first."

"Eric?"

"Oh, and this is her and Cory at Mount Rushmore."

Alan shook his head. His son had spent most of his shift lamented the approaching demise of his first car. One of their regulars made the mistake of asking about it and Eric has been holding the man hostage for nearly half an hour showing off pictures. "Eric, I'm sure Wally has to get back home."

"It's okay, Alan. This is a crucial time in a young man's life. It's not easy letting go of your first car, that first taste of independence. It doesn't matter how much time passes or how many other ones you have, nothing beats your first."

"What was her name," Eric asked.

"Ida. She was a '59 Ford Thunderbird. She was turquoise and shiny and fast: everything a seventeen-year-old could want but wasn't ready for."

Alan whistled. "Nice."

"She was a beauty. I swore I was going to be buried with that car one day." He shook his head. "Anyway, I should head home before Barb sends out a search party."

"I'll put in a special order for the surge protectors and walkie talkies and call you when they get here."

"Thanks, Alan. Eric…hang in there. Doing anything special for Lucille's last night?"

"I'm going to the drive-in with my girlfriend to see The Sixth Sense."

He chuckled. "A scary movie at the drive-in; I suppose that's one way to go out in style."

"That's what I'm hoping for."

"Goodnight, guys."

"'Night, Wally."

A few more customers and a few more pictures of Lucille later, Eric was straightening up the store while his dad was taking care of the last customers of the night. He was about to head over to boating supplies when the phone rang. "Matthews' Wilderness Outpost. We close in ten minutes so make it fast."

Angela laughed into the phone. "I don't think your dad would appreciate you answering the phone like that."

After such a long day just hearing her voice made him smile. "I like to keep things interesting."

"Believe me, I know."

"So I should be out of here in about thirty minutes, then I'll head over to you. That should give us just enough time to make the nine o'clock showtime."

"Actually, that's why I'm calling. I'm not feeling the movie tonight."

"What's wrong, too scary? I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"It's not that."

"We can see something else, something funny. The South Park Movie is supposed to be hilarious. Or the new Adam Sandler one looks decent."

"No, I just don't feel up to going out at all. I want to stay home tonight. I'm sorry. I know this was going to be your big send-off for Lucille, but-"

"Is something wrong?" Eric was quiet as he listened. "Oh. Yeah…no, I get it. No, it's okay. Don't worry about it. Did you still want me to come over?" He pulled a notepad over and grabbed a pen. "Uh, sure…n-no problem. Really, it's fine. I can pick it up. I'll see you in a little while. Yeah, I love you, too. Bye."

"Is Angela okay," Alan asked after he locked the door behind the final customer of the night.

"She doesn't feel good. We're not going to the drive-in."

"Oh, that's a shame. Bring her some chicken soup from the deli around the corner. I swear that stuff could cure a coma. I think they close soon so go pick some up then come back so we can finish-"

"Not that kind of sick, dad."

He glanced up at his son and noticed he was rather pale and looked ready to vomit. A sense of dread came over him and he was almost nauseous himself. "What kind of sick? Damn it, Eric, what did you do?"

"I don't know. What did I do?"

"We had the safe sex talk multiple times!"

"Yeah," he confirmed, very confused, "and?"

"And? That's all you have to say?"

"Why are you-" It hit him what his father thought was happening. "Do you know what you forgot to cover in the middle of all those sex talks?"

"What?"

"Periods, dad! You never gave me the period talk."

"I...what? Why on earth would you need the period talk?"

"Because then I would be prepared."

Alan took a deep breath and let the last two minutes of insanity fade. "That's what's going on?"

"Yes. Angela feels like crap and asked me to pick her up some...some...you know...girl stuff on my way to her place. I guess she's almost out of whatever stuff it is. Only I don't know what I'm supposed to buy because you never gave me the talk!"

"Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Obviously you weren't." He took a few deep breaths as if to steel himself for the task at hand. "You and mom have been married for about an eternity and a half, right?"

"Something like that."

"Cool. So what do I buy?"

"Didn't you just write something down? Buy whatever Angela told you to get."

"Oh, the only thing on this paper is a doodle I drew of my face melting like that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. See?"

Alan looked at the paper and nodded, almost impressed.

"What do I do?"

"Call her back and ask her what she wants."

"But then she'll know that I don't know what to do."

"Eric, trust me, this is the one area in life where you can't guess. I'm speaking from experience here. Guessing is bad. You need to know the brand. Does she need heavy, light, or something in-between? Tampon or pad? Wings or no?"

"Wings? What the hell are the wings for? Do women get to fly around? Do they do this in secret because I've never seen it. And if they get to fly, what are they complaining about?"

Alan shook his head and smiled. He couldn't even get mad because once upon a time he had these same thoughts and questions. Unfortunately for him, the only person around to ask was Amy. And she wasn't amused.

He put his head on the counter. "Why is this so complicated? There are like fifty thousand different kinds. Don't they all do the same thing? I don't think I've ever been down that aisle at the store."

"What are you talking about? I had you put out stock all over the grocery store when you were a box boy, that aisle included."

"Yeah, about that," Eric began, hesitant, "I never did it."

"What?"

"Come on, dad, I was fifteen and you wanted me to stock the girly aisle where other people- especially kids from school...but especially girls from school- could see me. Did you honestly expect me to not use the 'my dad's a manager' card to get some other lackey to do it? I said if they didn't listen to me they'd get fired."

"Do you know how lucky you are I didn't find out about you pulling that crap back then?"

"Yeah." He sighed, resigned to his fate. "I can't believe I have to go in the girly aisle. What if people see me? What are they going to think?"

"Do you care what people think when you're buying condoms?"

"Huh?"

"I'm assuming you're buying them, at least if you paid attention to all of our talks."

"Most of the time it's me...occasionally her."

"Okay. If you're supposedly mature enough to do that, you're mature enough for this. Consider it part of the relationship package."

"I guess."

"And do you know what people will think?"

"What?"

"Most of them won't care. Heck, ninety-nine percent of them won't even notice. But the few that do, they're probably going to be thinking what a lucky girlfriend to have you taking care of her."

"Really?"

"Yes. So get back on the phone, call Angela and ask her exactly what she wants. Tell her to spell it out for you like you're three so there's no room for mistakes. And if you really want to earn some bonus points get a little surprise treat or two, something she doesn't usually buy for herself." He learned early on that Amy forgave his more stupid comments a little easier if he came home with a bag of gummy bears.

"Ooh, like the chocolate-covered potato chips she loves but thinks are too expensive?"

"That sounds good."

"Thanks." Eric picked up the phone and was about to dial her number when he stopped. "Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to know. The wings...seriously. What do they do?"

/

"You told the Singled Out people you went to Harvard?" Angela was laying with her head in his lap and twisted her neck to look up at him. "Why?"

Eric wanted to crawl into the couch and die. When he thought to bring the tape over to cheer her up, he'd completely forgotten about his little Harvard white lie. "They were the ones dumb enough to believe me."

She watched, amused by the banter and how comfortable Eric seemed. "The camera loves you."

"As if there was ever any doubt."

"You look really cute."

"Just cute?"

"Ooh, okay, here we go, elimination time." She sat up and retrieved the remote from the coffee table and turned up the volume on the television.

"Have you been naughty- get out!"

"No! No…I want to be naughty! I can be naughty with you! I didn't mean you."

"Oh, no, you walked right into that one."

"He tricked me! Bye-bye naughty girls." He waved at the TV. "Bye-bye."

She paused the tape and stared at him. "Which one am I?"

"Huh?"

"Am I naughty or nice?"

"I…what?"

"If I were on this show with you, what tag would you give me?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"I want to know. Do you think I'm one of the naughty girls?"

He scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn't get him in trouble, still unconvinced this wasn't a trap. "You invented strip studying- awesome game, by the way, my most favorite ever. Someone who is one hundred percent nice probably wouldn't do that. So you're nice, but you can turn on the naughty in the best way when you want to. And for the record, I'm not complaining. I love both naughty and nice Angela."

"But naughty me is more fun?"

"I refuse to answer that."

She smiled and kissed his cheek before pressing play and resuming the show. "I know I'm not a Beer Stein."

"Definitely not. At parties, you go for the margaritas."

"Don't forget mojitos." She snickered at his despair on TV. "You got rid of all the naughty party girls. You screwed up big time."

It wasn't that Eric wanted her to be jealous watching him try to date other girls, but he didn't expect her to be damn near giddy. "I told you, they tricked me."

"Ooh, ooh, pop quiz time. I'm going to play along. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Bad kissers: dump 'em or train 'em?"

Angela hit pause. "It depends on how bad, but I say train 'em."

"Not that we ever had that issue."

"No, we meshed pretty well from day one there." She pressed play and smiled when their answers matched.

"Okay, next question. A guy who listens is: sensitive or picturing you naked?"

She stopped the tape again. "Now this is a tricky question. There are a bunch of different variables."

"Nuh-uh. Go with your gut. Sensitive or naked?"

She mulled it over for a few seconds. "Sensitive, but-"

"Nope, no buts!" He took the remote from her. "TV Eric, show me sensitive!"

"…I was sensitive enough to write down…sensitive!"

Eric gloated. "Ha."

"I agreed with you that you are sensitive, I was just going to say that there have been plenty of times where I knew you were picturing me naked, too."

"Yes."

"Wow, just admitting it like that?"

"I'm not ashamed. You're gorgeous. What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Are you always sensitive and listening or are there times you're picturing me naked?"

"I'm not ashamed to say I'm not always so sensitive either."

"I knew it." He smirked, before putting the show back on. "Last question."

"Best way to wake up: steamy hot cocoa for two or steamy hot shower for two?"

"I know this is a hard one, but-"

"For you? Please," Angela remarked, taking the remote back and pressing play. "You picked the hot cocoa." She smiled a few seconds later when she was vindicated. "See, I know you and your sweet tooth."

"A steamy hot shower for two sounds like it could be nice sometimes," he said, pulling her into a hug.

"It also sounds like the quickest way to take an embarrassing trip to the emergency room."

"We could work on our balance."

"We have fallen out of bed before. More than once. And only some of the time we were just sleeping."

"That doesn't count. You still had your twin mattress then. It could've happened to anybody."

"Fine, I'll think about it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. You've got a much better chance at shower sex than you do pool table sex."

Eric groaned and pressed his face into a pillow. "I still can't believe I told you about that dream."

"Lucky for you I know how to make you feel better."

He peeked out at her. "You do?"

"Two steaming hot mugs of cocoa with marshmallows coming up."

"It's eighty degrees outside. Might not be the best time for cocoa."

"Chocolate ice cream with whipped cream?"

"Now you're talking."

/

"Sneaking in a little studying," Angela asked when she came back into the living room a little bit later with a bowl of ice cream and two spoons. He had a textbook and papers strewn about the coffee table. "I'm so proud."

"I never want to take another algebra class ever again," he grumbled. "I think I'm okay on the other subjects, but algebra…you promise you'll still love me even if I fail?"

"This again? Eric, you're not going to fail, but even if you did, no, it wouldn't change how I look at you."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." She fixed the pillows and sat on the couch, draping her legs across his lap. "I'm sorry again about tonight."

"Angela, it's okay."

"But Lucille and the drive-in, and-"

"Hey, yeah, I wanted one more awesome memory, but it's not like we don't already have some pretty good ones in there. Remember the parking lot at Veteran's Stadium during the rain delay?"

She smiled. "It's the most fun I've ever had at a baseball game."

"Hey, I thought you liked baseball now."

"I like it more than I did. But mostly I like being with you at baseball games."

"That kinda sounds like a copout, but I think I can live with it."

"You're sure you're not upset?"

"I'm sure. Besides, there is no guarantee that Lucille would've made the trip, even if it was just a few miles. What was it you said- at this point she's running on the power of positive thinking. But the guy at the junkyard said I should be able to get about three hundred dollars for her so I've got that. I hate the thought of her becoming scraps, but it's the car circle of life."

"Guys and cars," she wondered, "I don't get it."

"I remember the day I bought her."

"More stories of your friend's creepy uncle car guy? If so, please spare me."

"That car was the first real thing I bought with my money, I mean saved up for and bought beyond a cool jacket or pair of shoes. I felt like such an adult. She was mine and my parents couldn't say anything about it."

"Knowing your parents, I'm betting they still did, especially your dad."

"Duh, I was a sixteen-year-old with a few thousand-pound hunk of metal that could only be started with a wrench. They wouldn't have been mom and dad if they didn't say something. But I didn't have to ask permission to drive it…I mean, if I was grounded, sure, that put a crimp in my plans, but-"

"Were you the kid that got grounded a lot?"

Eric thought it over before answering. "It depends on what you mean by a lot."

She laughed. "I thought so."

"No, I wasn't a bad kid, I just…didn't think a lot of the time. Or when I did think, Jason talked me out of it and into the bad idea."

"I suppose you wouldn't be best friends if you didn't get into trouble together."

"Oh, he never got into trouble."

"How?"

"He's the baby of his family. His parents were old and tired by the time he was in high school so he got away with everything. I didn't get that advantage since I'm the oldest."

"Is that how family dynamics work, huh?"

"Yeah, by the time he becomes a teenager, mom and dad will be so worn down baby Josh might be able to get away with literal murder without them blinking."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

She pulled on his arm to get him to move closer to her. He picked up on her less than subtle hint and slid over to her. "I understand about Lucille now. I'm sorry for not getting it before."

"What do you understand?" They were just talking about Jason, baby Josh, old parents, and murder. When did she have time to have any insights?

"She represents your first taste of freedom and independence. It doesn't matter how new or old she is, it's still important to you. Sorry I didn't get it before."

"That's okay."

"Even though I've been on my own a lot I haven't had that taste of that earned independence yet. My independence has been forced or circumstantial."

"You'll have your own apartment soon."

"That my dad's paying for."

"You still deserve it."

Angela laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks for bringing me chocolate-covered potato chips and letting me see you on Singled Out."

"You're welcome." He hugged her tight in return. "Do you-are you feeling better?"

"Are you kidding? I've spent the evening laughing with you. That's like the best medicine. Thanks for not freaking out when I called you. It means a lot to know you won't get weirded out by periods and stuff."

"Can I be honest?"

She sat up and looked at him. "I'd prefer it"

"I did freak out."

"What?"

"Like….full-on babbling moron freak out." He briefly described what happened after they got off the phone. "My dad had to talk me down off the ledge."

"Oh."

"But, Angela, this is new territory for me. I never had a girlfriend ask me to pick up her stuff before."

"For what it's worth I never asked a boyfriend to do this for me before either."

"I'm…honored?" He made a face. "No, that can't be the right thing to say."

She placed a quick kiss on his lips. "How about let's just be glad we navigated this issue with minimal trauma involved?"

"That works for me." He sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes briefly before sitting up again to resume studying. "Can I ask you something about the whole period situation? Because there's one thing I don't get."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cringe at him calling a natural, biological function a situation. "Umm…okay."

"I was hoping to find out about wings, but you didn't ask for any wings and I didn't want to be the weirdo freak in the girlie aisle studying the packaging trying to figure it out for myself. So, seriously, what's the big deal with wings? Do they give women secret superpowers like flying? And if they do, why the hell wouldn't you want them because that sounds amazing."

/

/

"Thanks for helping get Lucille to the junkyard, Shawn. I really thought she could survive the final voyage."

He glanced at Eric and nodded. He'd been getting some breakfast from Uncle Mike's trailer when he saw Eric and Cory stuck on the highway trying to push Eric's car- now his old car- to the shoulder. "It's not a big deal. Didn't want you guys to end up a story on the six o'clock news."

Eric pressed the button to signal the elevator. "Let me know how much I owe your uncle for the tow."

"Don't worry about it. Uncle Mike said you guys get the family discount."

Cory scrunched up his face. "But isn't that Uncle Mike's way of saying he's charging you through the nose?"

"Not with family he really likes," he said, stepping aside to let some pretty girls off of the elevator before the three of them got on. "Besides, the junkyard is less than a mile from the trailer park."

He turned his attention to his big brother, watching as he stared at the remnants of his car. "I can't believe you kept the gear shift. The hood ornament, yes, but the gear shift?"

"What, like there's going to be a lot of demand for gears from fifteen-year-old cars? The guy said I could keep whatever I wanted before he ripped her up for scraps." He held the gear shift and mimed driving. "Remember our road trip after I graduated? How many hours do you think we spent in the car?"

Cory smiled. While he was ready to get back home and to Topanga by the end of that summer, he treasured the memories of that trip with Eric. "Probably way too many because I contemplated your murder more than once."

"Right back at you. There were a few days I thought would end in a murder/suicide."

"Like the day we realized the oil cap was missing? Where was that?"

"Wyoming? Idaho? I think it was one of those near the other ocean."

"Right, you hear all the time about the beautiful Idaho coastline," Shawn quipped. "Des Moines's the surfing capital of the world."

"Shawnie, I think Des Moines is in Iowa. Or is it Indiana? Definitely an I state."

"I know it was after we left that cabin made out of dinosaur bones," Eric continued.

"Oh, the Fossil House! That was so cool."

"Yeah, it was at least until you had nightmares about dinosaur zombies out for blood and kept me awake all night."

"Everything is scarier at night."

They got off the elevator and rounded the corner to the apartment. Eric checked the time before reaching for his keys. "Crap, my English final is in an hour." After a few seconds of nervous fumbling, the door opened and he rushed inside. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Jack was in the kitchen.

With a girl.

Her hair was pink.

They were kissing.

Jack was in the kitchen kissing a pink-haired girl!

"Woo-hoo, go Jackie! Go Jackie!"

The pair jumped apart and turned to face the intrusive trio. Eric was still cheering, Shawn was smirking, and it seemed Cory didn't know whether to look amused or horrified. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

"Nothing much, what's going on with you?"

"Just breakfast, that's all."

"Are you the famous Boudicca," Cory asked.

She looked at Jack. "I'm famous? How flattering."

"Guys, this is Boudicca. Boudicca, that's Eric, Cory, and my brother, Shawn."

She waved. "Nice to meet you guys. Jack's told me about all of you and I've decided to give you a chance anyway," she teased.

"Funny, that's good. I like you. Jackie needs funny in his life."

"Oh, he's not that dour."

"Dour? Thanks."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure you can, uh…" she pointed at him. "…sorry, I don't have the names matched up with your faces yet."

"Cory."

"Right. What's your question, Cory?"

"Your name…."

"What about it?"

"What was the thought process there? Did your parents want to make your life difficult?"

"Cory!"

"That's okay. My parents are major history buffs. They said they wanted to name me something powerful that would inspire me to reach great heights. Personally, I think my mom was suffering a bout of temporary insanity brought on by Demerol and blood loss and dad was too afraid to challenge her after childbirth."

"Heh, that's funny, too. So, your hair-"

"What?"

"Cory-"

"I asked my stylist to make my hair look like the sunset." Boudicca freed her hair from its ponytail, revealing not only pink but purple and orange locks as well. "I think she did a good job, don't you?" The guys chimed in with various points of agreement. "Sunsets are so peaceful and calming. In a crazy, chaotic world it helps to be able to find that peace wherever you can."

"Wow, that's kind of a nice way to put it. Almost poetic."

"I hate to cut this short, but I have to get to work. You'd think tutoring rich high school kids in calculus would be an easy summer gig, but it's a pain in the ass. They don't want to learn." She looked at Jack. "Did you tell them about the party?"

"No, my big brother Jack was rude and didn't invite us to the party. What party?"

"My roommates and I are throwing one Saturday night. You guys can come. We managed to reserve our building's rooftop before our asshole neighbors who try to hog it every weekend so we won't be crammed into the apartment, so the more the merrier. There's going to be food, drinks, music, and dancing."

"I'm in," Shawn said. "And so's Cory."

"What? Shawnie, I-"

"You're going."

He nodded and looked at Boudicca. "I guess I'll be there."

"Great. What about you," she asked, looking at Eric.

"It sounds great, but me and my girlfriend are leaving Thursday night on a little road trip. We've had it planned for a while."

"Bummer, but I get it. Who doesn't need to unwind before classes start again? You and your girlfriend should come to the next one though."

"Absolutely."

"Walk me out," she asked Jack.

"Sure."

When Jack came back to the apartment Eric, Shawn, and Cory were ready to pounce. "What?"

"Dude, she's awesome!"

"Yeah, she's pretty great."

"Not who I would've pictured you with though," Shawn admitted.

"Why?"

"I don't know, she just…she's so…"

"Upbeat."

"Yeah, upbeat's the word."

"And I'm the opposite of upbeat?"

"No, but, come on! Her hair is three different colors and she's got her nose and eyebrows pierced. And you…you work at a bank."

"Don't forget the three-piece suits," Eric added. "What college student has three-piece suits?"

"Are you guys done ragging on me?"

"Only because I have my English test, yeah."

"But you guys like her?"

"She's great, man."

"I'm glad to see you're finally making things official."

He frowned at Cory. "Who said we made things official?"

"Call me crazy, but she woke up here, right?"

"Yeah, and?"

"You're sleeping with her and still consider it a fling," he ranted as he paced the room. "Come on!"

"I told you before, right now we're having fun and seeing what happens. We're on the same page."

"Sure, that's what you think now. Just wait until she turns the page when you're not looking, no…not just turns the page, picks a whole new book! You'll be lost and confused and wondering how your picture-perfect life turned into this miserable hell!" He realized that Shawn, Eric, and Jack were all staring at him. "Or maybe that's just my life."

/

/

Eric tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair. He'd barely gotten home from finishing his last final when Dean Bolander's assistant called and said she wanted to see him. This was it, he failed. He was sure of it. But how did they grade his tests so quickly? Did the professors just see his name and feel the Fs oozing off of them?

"Eric?"

His head snapped up so fast he was certain he startled the poor woman at the desk. "Yeah?"

"Dean Bolander will see you now."

"Great. Thanks," he said, giving her a thumbs-up as he walked. With every step he wanted to take off and run in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of seconds before he was outside her office. Her door was open so he stuck his head inside. "You wanted to see me, Dean?"

"Oh, Eric, come in." She stood and gestured to a chair in front of her desk. "Sit, please."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"The last time I sat in your office I got sent to summer school. What's next, the electric chair?"

"Eric, sit."

"Yes, ma'am." Instead of taking a seat behind her desk, she sat in the chair next to him. Was this a mafia-style kiss of death, college edition? "Oh, this must be super bad if you're on this side of the desk. I didn't think it could get any worse than being called into the Dean's office over the summer."

She snorted at his dramatics. "It's nothing that serious. I just wanted to say I'm proud of you."

"For what?"

"I know this wasn't how you wanted to spend your summer, but I commend you for taking responsibility for your education and committing to your classes."

"It was about time I got serious, right?"

"I talked to your professors and pulled a couple of strings, but here." She held an envelope out to him.

"I'm hoping the school decided to give me my money back. Because that would be amazing."

"That would be amazing, but no. I did manage to convince them to grade your exams immediately so you wouldn't have to wait."

"So those are my grades," he asked, pointing at the envelope. "Right in there?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what they are?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Does Feeny?"

"No."

"Oh."

Lila placed the envelope in his hand. "Here. Open them when you're ready, okay?"

"How does after I graduate sound?"

/

/

"Say it again," Angela said, smiling up at Eric as he held her close.

"You and me, two weeks, no interruptions."

"Finally."

"Let me just get the last couple bags in the car and then we'll be ready."

"Okay. I'm going to make sure everything is locked up. I'll meet you outside."

After a minute or two of playing luggage Tetris, Eric closed the trunk. He picked up his backpack and was about to toss it in the backseat when he stopped. He unzipped the front pocket and removed the envelope Dean Bolander had given him yesterday containing his grades. He didn't open it yet. He couldn't. What if after all his hard work he still failed? He couldn't face that right now. He hated the dean for doing this to him right before his vacation. How was he supposed to relax with this hanging over his head? Why did she have to pull strings?

"I'm all set. Are you ready?"

He shoved the envelope back into his bag and tossed it in the backseat before turning around to face her with a genuine smile on his face. At least it was mostly genuine. "Are you kidding me? I was born ready. Let's get the hell out of here."