“Have fun hiring labor and tipping people.”
“Uh-huh.”
Chuckling, Cheyenne stepped out of the apartment and paused with the key in her hand. Nah. She’s good.
* * *
The halfling parked the Panamera in the lot in Union Hill and glanced at the time on the dashboard. One-thirty-two. Cutting it close, Cheyenne.
She stepped out of the car and locked it. Other people in the parking lot turned to look at the source of that perfect chirp. Two middle-aged women in matching sweaters saw the Goth chick heading toward the parking kiosk and quickly turned around again to fumble with inserting a card to pay for their dashboard tickets.
Yes, I’m still scary and evil. I just have a fancy car. Cheyenne smirked and rolled her eyes as she stepped in line behind them.
“That your Panamera?”
She turned around and peered at a man in his late sixties, maybe early seventies. The man’s light-blue eyes glistened with excitement, the tips of his white handlebar mustache fluttering in the autumn breeze. “Yeah. Great car.”
The man whistled. “I’ll say. I’ve had my eye on that model since they announced it.”
Muttering and shooting Cheyenne wary glances, the matching sweaters finally left the parking kiosk and hurried across the parking lot. The halfling stepped forward for her turn, and the man took the next slot in line behind her.
“You should get yourself one,” Cheyenne said with another nod at her car. “Best purchase I’ve made in a while.” The man’s eyebrows flickered up in surprise. He’s thinking I barely look old enough to drive the thing.
Then a soft chuckle escaped him. “Oh, I’m tryin’. But the missus keeps telling me if I put any more cars in our garage, I can move out there with ‘em.”
Laughing, Cheyenne punched in the numbers of her temporary license plate and pulled out her second debit card. “Tough battle to fight.”
“Huh. I tell ya.”
“You a collector?”
The man sniffed. “Restoration, actually. Custom stuff. Been doin’ it for years.”
She pulled her card out of the reader, grabbed the receipt to put on the dash, and turned around. “Really?”
“That’s my 1937 Packard 120 over there.” The man pointed across the parking lot at the opalescent royal-purple vintage car taking up half of two parking spaces.
He’s one of those. Cheyenne laughed. “That’s one seriously funky car, man.”
“Just the beginning. I like to switch ‘em out and take ‘em into town now and then. You know, keep ‘em running.” The guy pulled out his wallet and slipped out a card before handing it over. “If you’re looking for custom updates, give me a call.”
Cheyenne took the card and studied it. Blast from the Past Auto Restoration by Lee McDurn.
“Updates, huh?” She glanced at her brand-new car and smirked. “You just wanna get your hands on a Panamera, don’t you?”
“You got me there.” The man stuck out his hand. “Lee McDurn.”
The halfling grabbed his hand and grinned. Oh, what the hell? “Cheyenne Summerlin.”
“Nice to meet you, Cheyenne. Don’t lose that card now. I’m serious. Anything you need.”
“I know who to call.” She raised the card before slipping it into her pocket. He didn’t even blink at my full name. Must spend more time on cars than politics.
She glanced at him again over her shoulder, but Lee McDurn was busy at the parking kiosk. The halfling unlocked her car, put the receipt on the dash, and locked it again.
Lee turned around at the chirp and waved her off. “All right. We get it.”
Chuckling, Cheyenne hurried across the parking lot toward the Fro-Yo place that wasn’t really a Fro-Yo place.
The little bell on the door jingled when she stepped inside, and only a few customers looked up when she entered. All of them looked quickly away, except for a family of three standing near the checkout counter, chatting with Tony.
“Cheyenne!” The man with short, spiked blond hair and a button-down flannel a size too big waved at her. The woman beside him, her long blonde hair falling down her back and the bangs cut just above her eyebrows, grabbed his arm and jerked it back down by his side. The little girl in front of them with two thick blonde braids draped over her shoulders grinned and gave the halfling an excited little wave.
They all look exactly the same. Trying not to laugh, Cheyenne approached the troll family and nodded. “Sorry if I kept you guys waiting.”
“Don’t apologize to us, Cheyenne,” R’mahr said, his eagerness just as apparent on a human face as it was on a troll’s. “We’re honored to be invited.”
“Well, I need a guide to show me all the best places, right?” The halfling grinned down at Bryl, who bounced up and down. “You’re really rockin’ the Little House on the Prairie look, kid.”
The girl’s frown squished her whole face. “What’s that?”
“Uh, never mind. It’s cute. Hey, Tony.”
The grumpy man standing behind the counter looked the halfling up and down and shook his head. “You sure have a weird range of friends, doncha?”
“I’m a people person, man.” She shrugged and turned toward the door in the back marked Employees Only. Keep Out.“Come on. Let’s go.”
The troll family nodded at Tony before following the halfling.
“Cheyenne,” Yadje whispered, looking mortified, “was he talking about us? Are we your weird friends?”
Cheyenne opened the door and gestured for the family to step in first. All my friends are weird. “No, Yadje. You’re not weird at all.”
When she shut the door behind her and leaned against the stainless-steel wall of the elevator down to Peridosh, the troll woman looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“Hey, don’t listen to the disgruntled employee behind the counter, okay? He was just as unhappy with my other friends.”
Yadje and R’mahr exchanged hurt looks. The troll man rubbed his face and turned pained eyes on the halfling. “You’ve been here before.”
Great. I hurt their feelings. “Uh, yeah. Just once. A spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“And they showed you what Peridosh has to offer?” Yadje asked, tossing the blonde bangs away from her cornflower-blue
