“Are you planning on taking New Jersey Transit to rehearsals as well or am I allowed to drive you?”
“About that–“
“This is bullshit.”
“Dropping me off and picking me up every day is excessive. I think I’m ready to learn how to drive.”
“You’re not going to learn how to drive, get your license, and buy a car in a week. And don’t forget about my original reason for being here. I’m supposed to be protecting you until we get the all clear.”
“Speaking of the all clear, there’s a meeting at your house tomorrow night. Did you know that?”
“No, I haven’t talked to my parents today.”
“Maybe that’s what we’re meeting about and then this whole conversation would have been for naught.”
“Well, not really.”
“Why?”
“I’m still not understanding why you’ll accept these ten-dollar flowers from me but you won’t take rent money.”
“My need to carry my own weight has nothing to do with what’s going on between us. Even if I was dating the billionaire who owns Facebook, I’d want to be a working actress who pays her own bills.”
I stop talking and turn on some tunes. This is some sort of single woman, I can buy my own shit, power trip she’s on and I’m never going to win the debate. I don’t believe for a second if I was a billionaire that she’d want to work every damn day.
But whatever.
Today is still her day that we’re celebrating, so I switch the radio to a station she likes. If there’s anything I’ve learned from watching my parents’ relationship, is that it’s much easier to go along with crazy than to fight reason.
I lay my hand palm side up on the console in between our seats and she quietly clasps it.
“I can’t wait to eat,” she comments after a long pause. “It smells good.”
“I went to that restaurant on Pine Street that you like.”
“Perfect… and maybe after we eat, we play a little Uno.”
I squeeze her hand and smile.
At this point, Uno is code for “we’ll be fucking by the end of the night” between me and Gigi now, so I like that plan.
“Yeah, Queenie, I’m game.”
Twenty-Three
Gigi
The Next Day
* * *
I’m leaning up against the wall of Uncle Roman’s library with a sore pussy and a smile from ear-to-ear because that’s the guaranteed reaction I’m sure to have whenever Knox is around.
“Ooh, yes! Uh-huh, right there.”
He’s teasing me by reenacting some of the sounds I made last night in bed, and I’m about to whack him across the head with a hardcover edition of Think And Grow Rich when Uncle Cutter takes us by surprise by walking in the room.
I press my palms against Knox's hard chest to try and push him away as the door opens but he won’t let me and roots himself to the floor. He turns his head to acknowledge my uncle, but doesn’t move one inch away from me.
