Peyton had instead taken option three. And so had Simon & Schuster. Just as Peyton had finished signing off her computer, a shadow cast over her desk....Peyton turned in her uncomfortable swivel chair and stared up into the narrow, pinched face of Roderick Graff, the leader of the St. Clair sycophant echelon. He crossed his pencil-thin arms over his pencil-thin chest and proceeded to glare down at her through designer glasses frames, his cherry-chap stick coated lips pursed. Well, she had. ” She did. I pulled the front seat forward and let her step to the second row seating. When she was comfortable I went back to the Inn.“That is Sooo romantic,” Wendy said. We jitterbugged out. I flung her into the frontseat, slammed the door and did handsprings and a slide across the front hood ... I missed the standup fender blinkers ... that would have hurt.“Seat Belts,” I hollered. “This here bus doesn’t start without ‘em.”Even of you know how ... you can’t get from Story to Wolf Creek by. More

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