We both pretend not to hear Zeke muttering, “Oh, you got a handle on it alright. Several handles.”
Fixing her hair, Yas looks at me. “What’s up with you, though? You’re not usually the type to jump straight to the worst-case scenario. Is something wrong?”
I consider not telling her, but since we’ve already opened this can of worms, I figure a little SparkNotes version can’t hurt. I give her a brief rundown on the fiasco at Olympus and the strange lack of a response at Frank’s trailer.
“Okay, so just work stuff,” she summarizes.
“Well, yes and no,” I hedge.
Zeke turns to face us again as the aroma of garlic fills the air. “It means Bastian probably has his panties in the most extreme of twists.”
“I mean, it’s construction,” Yasmin objects. “Delays happen all the time, right?”
Zeke’s
