The padlock clicked open. A voice soundingoddly like South Parks's Cartman echoed through my quivering brain. Goddammit!

All you can do is hang in there and hope you don't get motion sickness and puke all over the newspapers.

He stepped colser. Looked deep into my eyes. Hesitated a millisecond, and then dove in. "I think I'm falling in love with you." Oh. No. "Cole--" "I know how you feel. About me. About him. I just wanted you to know-we could be good together. We could have a life. Kids. Vacations. On Sunday mornings I could serve you breakfast in bed." He gave me his I-know-you-find-me-irrestible grin. "And then I could make you something to eat.

The white-haired wonder leading what had to, by now, be a blocks-long parade must've finally turned on her hearing aid. Because she finally pulled into the United Methodist Church parking lot, praise God, leaving the rest of us free to party until some other octogenarian found it necessary to take to the streets after dark. In Ohio, old folks know better than to drive at night. Yet another reason Cleveland rocks.

I'm sure it's nothing switching to a light beer won't cure.

You got a problem?" he drawled, obviously expecting me to pee my pants before falling to the ground and groveling like an unworthy subject of the Emperor. And that was all it took. A new, screw-you attitude took precedence, trampling my fear under its boots. A highly dangerous approach, I still found it much easier to bear. "Well it all goes back to my childhood...." I began.

So... you're an assassin?" Dave asked incredulously. "Why do I feel like you'd have used the same tone if I'd just confessed to being a stripper?" I demanded. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I'm just surprised, is all.