Dastardly

by Lorraine Ray

The next morning I vow I’ll think it through one more time and if I decide to go with Oliver on the wild goose chase, I’ll take the car in for more repairs.

  I step out of an Uber the next morning feeling more organized and intense than I can remember in years. A good type of intense. A happy intense. Already I’m thinking of going with that old man to the mine. That might be opportunity knocking. Sure, a lost gold cache has to be the thing I need. It might be a good idea, which would benefit me.

  What benefits me—that’s what matters.

  The part about Oliver’s stink seems unpleasant. I wish Oliver was a cleaner dude. Wish he was presentable and clean and it would make the whole thing a little more acceptable to me, but still I have sympathy for the old man. Unlikely that Oliver has much energy to help in any gold seeking endeavor. Also, Oliver won’t have the money for gas or food. I’ll have to tell him to bring a blanket and a pillow. And I’ll buy plenty of water at Walmart or something. We’ll sleep in the car and hike to the spot. Oliver said we could get to it in a day, easily, from a parking lot in the state monument. Not such a long drive to the state monument, either. I know the way, I guess. Currently, the Subaru is not highway worthy, but it would make it if I put some more money into it. Check the tires and belts, I tell myself. Maybe get the radiator flushed. Sure, it needed it anyway.