“You did a fantastic job,” Jeremy says.
Jackson hesitates. “Oh right… I, uhh… made you your favorite memory in all of your life.”
I gasp. “The Fence?—”
“I was thinking our wedding,” Jackson says as he gives me a look.
“Oh… right… yes… that.” I grimace a little at my mix-up then pat his leg and decide that maybe I shouldn’t mention anything else lest I get reminded that I’m in the wrong.
As we prepare to land about four hours later, Tavish hands me something. “For Waylon. A gift for having to put up with you.”
I look at the small keychain of a round cat with three legs instead of four.
“That’s… disgustingly nice of you,” I say as I take it. “You don’t want to hold on to it and give it to him when you see him?”
“I have enough trouble holding on to all of my own stuff,” he responds, but I’m confident he’s just too embarrassed to give it to Waylon himself.
I clip it onto my bag. “He’ll love it.”
Jackson is smiling at me in a “Look, youcanmake friends” way, and I really want to tell him that making friends with Tavish is so far out of my wheelhouse that we’re not even going to pretend that’s going to happen.
The moment we land, I check my phone and see that the only thing Waylon knows how to send me is pictures of his cat. His cat yawning, his cat stretching, his cat staring…
“I wish he liked The Fence this much,” I murmur.
“I’m glad he doesn’t,” Jackson says while he examines the pictures that were sent in a group text between us.
Me: Did you name him yet? We’ve landed.
Waylon: I can’t decide.
Me: I can name him for you.
Waylon: I’d rather not. You didn’t mention Tucker was bringing his daughter.
Me: Oh yeah, she’s about your age, isn’t she? Whatever you do, please… Waylon, please don’t teach her how to make drugs.
Waylon: Not where I thought that sentence was going, and somehow, it’s so much worse.
Me: Say it with me. “I will not show off to my new friends how wickedly awesome I am with chemistry.”
Waylon: I’m just going to keep sending you cat pictures.
Me: Name the thing. Hopefully we’ll be home by tomorrow. And Waylon… if you ever do start an underground operation… please ask me to be your first member. I just really hate being left out.
Henry: Why the hell am I a part of this? And do not encourage him!
Me: So that when I’m arrested, I can take you to prison with me as my accomplice. I really think it’d be fun if we were prison mates.
Henry’s head snaps around and the expression on his face tells me that he’s envisioning every moment of being in prison with me… and it’s weirdly not going well. Like… is he over there living out our entire prison sentence? And what’sthatlook for? Did one of us get shivved?
“Henry, stay with me,” I beg.
He quickly exits the plane.
We follow after Henry who is on a mission to walk fast enough that he can lose the rest of us. I think he’s now planning on having a vacation and enjoying life until we need to head back home.
Right before we get to the rental cars, my phone rings. I stare at it in dread when I see that it’s from the prison. Lucas rarely calls, likely because he knows I hate him with a passion. But I can’t even say he’d only call if it’s an emergency, because out of all of the times he’s called, most were him being a nosy dick. I’m sure he’s heard of my sudden popularity and would like to add his two cents or gloat about it.
