51.
Turtle backs up their car.
Bingo turns to Milly in the back seat. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“That.” He points at the men waving from their pickups. “You had them wrapped around your finger.”
Turtle eases the car to a stop and shifts into drive.
She shrugs. “Most people only look for what they want to see, so I show them. They ask for what they want to hear, so I tell them.”
Bingo squints with concern. “Are you always like this?”
“When they have something I want.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. But, what did you want with those guys?”
“They knew about guns — more than you blockheads.”
Bingo chuckles.
Turtle steers out of the parking lot. “You weren’t scared?”
“Of them?” Milly huffs. “No. They were scared.”
“Scared of what?” Bingo points. “Watch the pothole, Turtle.”
“They’re afraid they’re not important anymore.”
Turtle eases through gravel ruts.
“And tonight”—Bingo sniffs—“they’ll tell their friends they helped a famous actress learn to shoot.”
Milly nods, staring out the window.
Bingo spins around. “But none of it is true!”
She shrugs. “Does that matter now?”
Milly usually avoids straight-up lies.
“One thing’s true,” Turtle adds. “You are an actress.”
Exactly. Just make believe …
Milly and Bingo share raised eyebrows at Turtle’s insight. Her gaze drifts away.