Drift Read Online Free PDF Page B

cruiser was parked right in front of my car. I wondered if he was there for lunch or if he had seen my car and was checking up.
    “Did you order?” Moose called out. He had a brown shopping bag in his arms.
    “Get in the car,” I said briskly. There was still time to make a relatively clean getaway.
    “What?” Moose called back, slowing a step, confused.
    “Hurry up. We’re out of here.”
    He still looked confused, but to his credit, he scurried up to the car and got in fast. His bag clinked when he put it on the floor.
    “What’s going on?” he asked as I pulled around Chief Pruitt’s car and drove away at the posted speed limit.
    I told him what had happened.
    “Damn, Doyle.” He grinned, shaking his head. “Frank said you were a people person.”
    “Is there anywhere else to eat in this town?”
    He put a hand over his stomach, and his face grew sad. “I was going to have the meatloaf.”
    “So where else can we go?”
    He shook his head. “Nearest place that’s any good is like ten miles away, and it’s closed Sundays. There’s probably some soup back at the house.”
    “Isn’t there a McDonald’s or something?”
    Moose looked stricken. “Dude, tell me you don’t.”
    “What?”
    “Eat at McDonald’s.”
    “Well, not all the time, but—”
    He actually changed color. “Do you know what they put in that stuff? Have you ever seen what they put in a chicken nugget?”
    I laughed. “I don’t want to know what they put in a chicken nugget. That’s why I ask them to cover it in that delicious breading.”
    “Doyle, seriously, you need to think about what you’re eating.”
    “I think about it all the time. Hell, right now I’m thinking, ‘What am I going to eat?’”
    “I’m serious, man. This isn’t just about dinner, this is about everything.”
    “Everything?”
    “Damn right. You eat that chicken nugget, it’s not just about the factory-farmed chicken and the hormones and antibiotics and the GMOs, it’s about the people that work with those chemicals and the folks who have to live next to it.”
    “GMOs?”
    “Genetically Modified Organisms, meaning genetically engineered foods. It’s crazy what they’re doing with all the Frankenfoods these days.”
    I laughed. “Frankenfoods?”
    “You know, like tomatoes spliced with jellyfish genes, or lettuce with firefly DNA.”
    I shrugged. “It’s still just food. It’s not like it’s going to kill you.”
    “Don’t be so sure of that.”
    Moose went on for a while like that, but I wasn’t listening, distracted by the image of the blonde from the diner. When I noticed it was quiet, I looked over to see Moose staring at me expectantly. I figured I’d rather ignore his stories than be telling ones of my own.
    “So, how’d you end up working for my folks?”
    He sighed. “I came out here to work for Miss Watkins, like an apprentice. When your mom got sick, your dad needed help keeping the garden going. Then he needed help around the house.” Moose shook his head. “They were great people.”
    He was an annoying little guy, but I found myself liking him. He went quiet again after that, a sad quiet that dragged on until his cell phone went off, as if it had decided that someone had to say something.
    Moose looked at the display. “It’s Miss Watkins,” he said, whispering even though he hadn’t answered it yet.
    “You’re back,” he said brightly into the phone. “How’d it go with the garden club?” He listened again, nodding into the phone. “Yeah, I just got back a little while ago … No, the workshop was great, but, you know … Yeah, I guess it just broke his heart.… I’m here with Doyle right now.… When, now? Sounds just great. I’m sure we’d love to.” He cupped the phone with his hand and leaned over toward me. “She’s inviting us over for dinner.”
    “Inviting us over?” I repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
    “Yes, and she’s a great cook. You’re going to love