“So you say, so you say,” Daniel mused. Balancing on one foot, he stretched his leg and stuck his toe in the bucket, setting it upright. The whole exchange reminded him of playing soccer. “I was taught that women are always trouble. But I, too, am I risk taker, and since I’ve already gotten myself dead,” he rubbed his chest, where his heart no longer beat, “What’s the harm in hanging out with you? Just don’t move up to lost cars. I’m not made out of money.”

Actually, that was getting to be a sticky point with Deanna. He needed cash. She didn’t want to part with hers. Kept insisting he make his own way in the world. When he asked how the hell he was supposed to get a job with an expired driver’s license, she laughed in his face and suggested that, with a mindset like that, Daniel was doomed to give handies in men’s public bathrooms.

So far, he had no better ideas.

He didn’t like the idea of stealing credit cards off dead tourists. The cops would track him down in no time. He’d wind up frying in the one jail cell in Nevada that came with a window.