Zoe makes a noise, then turns and walks away.
I bite into my burger.
Tavi’s stomach grumbles.
“She doesn’t believe you,” I tell her around a mouthful of beefy goodness.
She drops her head to the table. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a decent salad and make friends in this town?”
“Be yourself.”
“Iammyself.”
I take another massive bite of my hamburger and watch her lift her head back up to watch me eat.
We’re playing a game here, and I don’t know if I’m right or wrong. How much of this isgenuineTavi Lightly, and how much of this is a show she puts on for the world because it’s what she thinks the world wants of her?
“You ever do any charity stuff?” I ask her.
“All the time.”
And here we go again.
I don’t know if the defensive tone means she does it or if it means she’s offended that I’m calling her on not doing it more often. “I can’t really talk,” I tell her. “I buy those coupon books the schools sell every year for fundraisers or the cookie dough the band kids sell, but I don’t go looking for good causes, so I really only donate to things when I get something out of it.”
“Benevolence and charitable giving are a massive part of what my family spends time and money on every year. It’s, like, expected when you’re rich. And I mean,hello. I just told you I’m doing something nice for someone else here.”
“Because you owed someone a favor.”
Shehmphs. “What do you think we’re all doing here in Tickled Pink?”
I shrug. “Heard it’s to save your grandmother’s soul. So is it really benevolence? Or is it what she gets out of it?”
She chews on her bottom lip, her blue eyes raking over my face. “I’m not my grandmother.”
“None of us are our parents or grandparents. Not if we pay attention and don’t want to be. Now, I wouldn’t mind beingmygrandma. At least, the me version of her. She was a spunky, funny, no-nonsense lady. Brought snowshoe baseball to Tickled Pink,andshe once made my grandpa go Christmas caroling in his pajamas in June.”
She smiles. “Why?”
“He was being grinchy.”
“Do you think that would work on my brother?”
“No.”
Her laugh hits me square between the eyes. It’s different from every other laugh I’ve heard from her lips—not that I’ve heard many, though I was subjected to reruns of her reality TV show a few weeks back at Willie Wayne’s house, and I did spend that weekend watching all the clips on her TikTok channel—and there’s something so genuine about it that I feel like giving myself a high five.
It’s like I’ve glimpsed the real Tavi Lightly. The one who eats chocolates and who talks about being a good mom and who let me hug her when I realized how much of my life I’ve wasted thinking Hannah was first the easy option, then my “one.”
I like knowing real people. That’s half the joy of life.
Another quarter of it might be finding those real people in places I don’t expect.
Like sitting across from me in a small-town hole-in-the-wall bar wearing her fashionable clothes like armor.
She clears her throat and squares her shoulders as she glances to the side.
People are staring.
