“Seriously, what was that?” she said. “You looked like you were flirting with a biker.”
I stammered out a laugh.
“I mean, he’s a flirtatious guy.”
“Tara.”
I sighed, put the pump into my car, and leaned against the hood.
“He’s a good guy, Elizabeth,” I said. “Not everyone that I have light conversation is with is someone that I’m trying to date.”
“Even still, we’re here for work, not to talk to old acquaintances.”
Put that way, that’s all he really is, isn’t it?
“It doesn’t matter; he’s Steele’s best friend,” I said. “If there’s one thing I know about guys, it’s that the good ones don’t steal each other’s exes. Especially exes they cared about.”
“That’s cool, but that says nothing about what you’d do, Miss Perfect Angel.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed.
“Because you, Elizabeth, are the shining example of what everyone in New Mexico should do.”
“I am! I’m great at my job, I do what my parents say, I only date great guys…”
I smiled at her, but the instant she turned and got distracted by the sound of a truck approaching, I rolled my eyes and turned back to my car.
By appearances, Elizabeth wasn’t the perfect person; in fact, aside from me dating Steele, my parents thought I’d done pretty well for myself. Like Elizabeth, I had gotten straight A’s in high school; I attended Rice University, and she Cornell, so we both attended prestigious colleges; and we had both started work at my dad’s company, NME Services, which technically stood for nothing, but we all understood it was New Mexico Energy.
It was just too bad that that whole “aside from me dating Steele” thing wasn’t easily let go. My parents treated me like a twelve-year-old. Elizabeth liked to bring home guys who had graduated law school or attended a private university to show off.
I knew better, though. Elizabeth wasn’t content with forever being the girl that tried to suck up to Mommy and Daddy. There was a lot beneath the surface of perfection.
“…and yet for all of that, we’re still working in Santa Maria, New Mexico,” she said at the same time that the pump clicked, signaling it had fully filled my tank. “What the hell are we doing here?”
“Ask Dad,” I said.
“Dad didn’t want us here. And that’s not what I meant.”
I arched an eyebrow as I returned the pump back to its stand.
“I mean, we joined Dad’s company so we could rise up the ranks, not work in ghetto, run-down towns.”
Are we having a serious conversation? Or are we bitching because you’re surrounded by people who prefer cheap beer over champagne and cocktails?
“I joined because I felt forced to,” I said. “If I had it my way, I’d go and live my life somewhere. I don’t want to be the girl handed a company with billions of dollars in revenue because my last name is Rogers. I want to live in peace.”
Elizabeth stared at me for a few seconds, her blinking a little too deliberate, before she drew out an, “Ooookaaay,” response.
“I didn’t realize working with Dad was an existential crisis.”
You do. You just won’t admit it yet.
“I’m going inside to get some snacks,” I said. “Do you want anything?”
“For you to be out in two minutes.”
I rolled my eyes, this time not waiting for her to turn away, and walked toward the door.
