“You know how Tom Hanks, normally, is like your typical nice and comforting uncle, not the crazy kind? And then, inCastawayhe turns into the uncle who got laid off ten years ago and has lived his life in an underground bunker since, thinking the government is coming to take him?”
“No way!” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Oh, God, Steele looks like that now?”
“I mean, he’s still in his twenties, he’s not Tom Hanks’ age, but yeah, he has not taken care of himself.”
“Oh, wow,” Elizabeth said, still laughing. “I’ll say this for you. He was a dick, but at least he was a handsome dick. Now he doesn’t even have that!”
What an odd thing to say.
“So, what, you were there conducting research? Did you know this would happen?”
“No, the real reason is just…helping an old friend, that’s all.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at me that both put me on edge and also made me smile. But—maybe she’d gotten enough gossip and given enough questions to me—she let it go, taking a sip of her wine and letting out a breath.
“You’re in charge of going out in public when we get to Santa Maria,” she said. “There is no way I am stepping foot out into the Wild Wild West.”
“You’re just afraid of getting caught in the New Mexico heat without AC.”
“Uh, yeah, and you’re not?”
Who wouldn’t be?
And just like that, as soon as the topic had shifted from the Bernard Boys—I always thought that was a stupid nickname, one they needed to grow out of—Elizabeth went from stern lecturer, the embodiment of my parents as my twin, to a sister that I could just joke, laugh, and share my life with. When she wasn’t acting like my father, she could be an absolute riot—so long as she avoided the topic of boys.
Eventually, we split up, Elizabeth so she could make some phone calls for work the next day, me so I couldfinallylay in bed, take a nap, and relax a bit. I went inside my room, shut the door, and let out a breath I felt like I had contained since the moment I walked into the house.
Although I still lived at home with my parents, they had given me complete autonomy in my room, so long as I didn’t get ridiculous. They treated me like an adult, and it was really like having a studio apartment inside of a very fancy, upscale home in a rich Albuquerque neighborhood. I could have “complained” about the lack of cooking equipment, but my mom was such a bomb cook that I would’ve been foolish to.
I preferred a near all-white theme for my room; white carpet, white comforters, white walls…there was something about the color white that just seemed vibrant and blank-slate-ish, like however my day had gone, I could project something better against the walls. Sometimes, I wanted the walls to be like snow, covering me and blinding me from anything in the outside world. And other times, I wanted the walls to be like light, shining on the goodness that the day had brought.
Today… hmm.
Well, it hadn’t been that disastrous to see Steele. I think seeing him in the mess he was in, and the chance to see he was calling me for something other than him, helped.
It had been nice to see Brock. I hoped that I got my message across to him. If not, maybe I could see him again.
Or I needed to be more careful about where I let my feelings go. I knew how I felt about him, and I knew if I so much as even put a hand on his arm, that was going down a road of disastrous consequences. Brock may have been the most mature, the best leader of the boys, but they were still boys.
No, I had to focus on work for now. Once I’d established myself a bit at the company, I could open myself up to dating some of the blue-chip men in the area.
My phone buzzed as I plopped down on the massive comforter on my bed. I leaned my head back against, yes, a white pillow and reached down for my phone. It was from Kathryn, the friend that I had had brunch with before seeing Steele.
“There’s a new bar downtown Albuquerque. Named Reapers. Supposed to be a new hot spot. Let’s check it out soon.”
Well, that caught my attention. I didn’t drink as much as I once had, but going out to downtown Albuquerque was my way of having some respite from my work. I searched “Reapers Albuquerque” but to my disappointment, nothing had yet been written. I wrote Kathryn back, asking her for more details.
“Supposed to be biker themed,” she wrote. “I just heard about it from a friend. Rumor is guy bankrolling it used to be in a motorcycle gang somewhere. But that’s just a rumor.”
Probably not my kind of scene.
But I know Brock and his boys would love it.
I chuckled to myself, thinking about how often Steele had begged me to get on the back of his motorcycle. Somehow, actually, “begged” seemed like an understatement; it was the source of many of our fights. Steele said I wouldn’t have the full experience of dating him until I got on his bike; I said I preferred to get the full experience of life before dying when he inevitably crashed. Steele and I had not broken up over this, but I was sure it hadn’t helped.
If I saw Brock again while in Santa Maria, I’d mention the bar to him.
Such a possibility seemed far more likely now than it did an hour ago.
