Meadow smiled behind her sunglasses. “It’s a surprise, just get in.”
“For what?”
“Zaire,” she leaned back against the seat, letting the sun kiss her skin. “Please let me do this for you.”
He stared at her for the longest second ever, his mouth twitching at the corners like she was difficult on purpose and he loved her for it.
“Aight,” he exhaled, opening the passenger door. “But if you curb this car, I’m drivin’ us home.”
She rolled her eyes and started the engine.
The Cadillac hummed like the old soul it was…bass deep, engine smooth, air blowing just enough to make her curls frizz at the ends. Meadow pulled onto the country road and played her music.
Zaire groaned dramatically when the playlist started. “Baby, why you keep playin’ this?”
“You love it,” she said, even though she knew damn well he didn’t.
“This ain’t L.A. music…this ain’t even close.” He pointed to the phone like it offended him. “This sounds like somebody who Googled ‘California songs’ and clicked the first thing that came up.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m trying to fit into your world.”
“You already in it,” he said, looking at her like she was the only person he’d ever driven down a backroad with. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’ else.”
Those words warmed her chest in places she used to keep locked away.
They drove past the pines, past the old convenience store, and past the hill where Magnolia used to take Meadow to watch storms roll in.
And then as they drove, the gate to the private airstrip came into view.
Zaire sat up slowly. “What you doin’, Marai?”
“You’ll see.”
“Aye, cuh.”
“You’ll see,” she sang back, parking near the hangar where a jet - smaller than commercial, but bigger than anything she could ever afford on her own, sat waiting with its door open and the stairs lowered.
Zaire’s eyes swept from the jet to her, then back to the jet and back to her.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“With what money?”
“Yours,” she snickered.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But you didn’t want to pay the taxes?” he looked her upside her head.
“Oh my God! Are you ever going to let me forget that?”
“Hell nah, cuh.” He smirked.
She poked out her lip, making him concede.
“I can’t stand your spoiled ass sometimes, cuh.”
“Yes, you can. You love my spoiled ass.”
