She keeps smiling in the car as we leave the garage, and I’m wondering what could be on her mind when she leans in and whispers in my ear. “I don’t . . . have panties.” The car swerves, but I manage to righten it, barely avoiding the concrete pillar on the side. When I have it under control, I turn toward Bianca to find her leaning back in her seat, wearing a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
