Tiger Eyes
“I’ve seen two of them in the garage, each labeled Kronick, with their address, phone and social security numbers engraved across the bar.“Certainly,” Bitsy says, “as long as you wear a helmet.”“A helmet?” I ask.“Yes. You can borrow mine.” She finishes her third cup of coffee and wipes her mouth with a napkin.“But I ride all the time in Atlantic City,” I tell her, “and I never wear a helmet.”“That’s the rule,” Bitsy says as she stands up and stacks our plates.“Really?” I say. “You’re serious?” Of course I know that she is serious. But I have this idea that by questioning her I can make her change her mind.“You bet I’m serious,” she says.So much for my idea.“Okay. I’ll wear the helmet.” I will do anything to have some time to myself. Some time alone, to think.“We’ll be leaving for Cochiti Lake at ten-thirty. Just be sure you’re back by then.”Cochiti Lake is number one on tomorrow’s agenda. Walter has taken the week off so that he can show us the sights.
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