That night, at supper, Riley looked at her mother and said, “Hey, can I borrow the car tonight?”“Where are you going?” asked Amanda.“Not tha... car,” said Riley. “The car.”“Oh,” said Amanda. She glanced at me, but not as if she was looking for input.“Just make sure the tank is full when you bring it back.”“Okay.”That was it. My fate had just been negotiated. I had been consigned, like a piece of furniture. I suddenly knew what women kept nattering on about in terms of being objectified.So I felt. “Just because I’m about to end you, doesn’t mean you can’t get some fucking culture beforehand.” She switched to the La Contessa’s Favorites menu. “The hotel’s music channels have two entire pages of Warren Zevon stations, each playing one of his albums on a loop, staggered every 15 minutes, so you can always find just the right Warren Zevon album or song to suit your current mood. Guess whose idea that was.”She selected through them.“Now, which one’s about to cycle around to track one? Ah,. More

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