Free 3 Buried Leads by Amanda M. Lee

good dose of Luke, Laura and their extravagant adventures can’t fix.
    “I’m glad Genie Francis came back,” Lexie said finally. “The show hasn’t been the same without her.”
    “Me, too.”
    We lapsed into silence a few minutes. I could tell Lexie was mulling something over in her mind. I could only hope it was something reasonable, and not like the time when she decided that she wanted to run away from home and join the circus because she thought she could be freak on the sideshow circuit because she was so short.
    “I’ve always wanted to teach yoga,” she said finally.
    “Have you ever taken a yoga class?”
    “What does that have to do with anything?” She looked incredulous.
    “I just think you have to actually know the right positions to be able to teach them,” I said calmly.
    “So, I’ll take a class.”
    “I think you have to be a certified instructor to be able to teach,” I said. Talking to Lexie is like talking to a toddler, I swear.
    “How hard can it be to become a certified instructor?”
    I had no idea. Lexie had the attention span of a gnat, though, so I doubted she would be able to complete even the basic courses – let alone the advanced. Plus, it’s not exactly like anyone in our family can be called overtly athletic. Watching The Biggest Loser is usually enough of a workout for me.
    “Why don’t you get a job at Starbucks, take a class and then see how that goes?”
    “Of course,” Lexie scoffed. “I’m not an idiot.”
    Lexie and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching television and talking about rehab. She said it actually wasn’t that bad after the first week. “Once I went through detox it was fine,” she said.
    “What did you do all day?” My only knowledge of rehab came from what I’d seen in television and movies. I wasn’t sure how true it really was.
    “It wasn’t a state run hole, so it was actually pretty nice,” Lexie said. “We had classes inside in the morning and afternoon meditation outside. We were close to the lake, so it was really pretty there.”
    That didn’t sound like the Lexie I knew and loved.
    “Plus, there were a lot of hot guys there,” Lexie amended.
    That sounded like the Lexie I had grown up with.
    “I met one really cool guy,” she continued. “His name is Raymond. He is really hot.”
    Lexie had spent the fast five years dating black guys. I figured rehab hadn’t changed her sexual proclivities. “Is he black?”
    “Why does that matter? You’re really racist, you know.”
    “I’m not racist,” I protested. “The last white guy you dated was in high school.” She’d went through a Hispanic phase when she was living in Florida for two years after high school. Since then, though, she not only dated black men, but she actually thought she was black at certain times.
    “He’s not black. He’s Dominican.”
    “How long is he in rehab?”
    “Another two weeks. When he gets out, we’re going to get a place together. I’m supposed to start looking.”
    “You barely know him,” I started to argue. I bit my lower lip. I didn’t really know why I was arguing with her. Lexie was proficient at the school of hard knocks. She had to learn every lesson the hard way. Plus, if she stuck to her schedule, that would mean she would be out of my house in two weeks. What? I’m not selfish. I really want what’s best for her – and me.
    “Sometimes you just know when you meet your soul mate,” Lexie said.
    Whatever. I decided to change tactics.
    “Where are you going to look for a place at?”
    “The city,” Lexie said simply. “I can’t stand living in the suburbs.”
    “So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re going to get a job at Starbucks, learn to be a yoga instructor, move to Detroit with a guy you just met in rehab and live happily ever after?”
    “Pretty much.”
    That sounded like a marvelous idea.

Eleven
    Lexie and I managed to refrain from heavy discussions for the rest of the night. I