My dad ran his fingers through his hair, “I need to go handle this. Can I… How do I contact you?”
Yes, please start keeping in touch. Please.
“I’ll leave you a message on your answering machine,” I said, “With my cell phone number, and my email in case I’m in an area where cell service is down.”
Sounds good.
“Email?” he asked. “Where are you that you have access to a computer?”
A fancy new villain lair with electricity and plumbing and cool terrariums.
A few blocks from here.
“Just outside the city limits,” I lied, “Not far from the Market.”
Not the worst of lies.
“So you’re out of the way of any trouble,” My dad noted, with a touch of relief.
Maybe even one of the better lies. This man needs fewer reasons to be worried, even if his reasons not to be worried are untrue.
There was a noise as someone began prying one of the truck doors open, and my dad turned his head, frowning. “But what are you doing here this morning?”
Ah, right, I suppose it’s a bit of a long way to run.