“That sounds smart.”
“You probably set up Frederick and Lauren or went to a party at their house, if anything.”
I love how Max doesn’t want to think the worst of me. It warms my heart. Thinking the best of myself is getting harder. I could easily believe that I was using so many people, that I was sleeping my way to the top, that I was associating with known criminals. And I haven’t even told Max everything. I can’t give up Max’s good opinion. If I can only be the woman he thinks I am…
“You want to drive, Max?” What red-blooded American man doesn’t want to drive a red Ferrari down a coastal highway? I owe him at least that.
He says, “Are you sure? It’s JP’s car,” but he has an eager look on his face.
“I’m so sure.”
Halfway down, Max pulls into a scenic overlook.
“I’m okay, Max. You don’t need to pull over.”
“I’m not worried about you. You might think you slept with that old guy, but there’s no way you could have. I almost felt bad for him the way you were looking at him. I’ve never been rejected that hard before.”
With a flip laugh, I say, “I bet you haven’t.” Any girl would think twice before rejecting Max. “Anyway, you’re too optimistic.” I would tell him about the extortion, but doing so would violate my policy of hiding the worst facts about me.
He gets out of the Ferrari and walks over to the gravel turnaround. There’s a steep drop-off with no guardrail.
“We have too much to do, Max! We don’t have time for scenic overlooks,” I shout into the wind. I have to find Crystal, learn how to run a business, and figure out who assaulted me before Sunday. “Plus, are you sure you want to give up on your job completely?”
He gives me alet’s not talk about itlook. “I’m sitting my black ass down on this bench and looking at the ocean. There’s always time for the ocean.”
I give up and get out of the car, kicking the gravel with my toe in front of Max, who is defiantly relaxing.
“I like that house over there. That yellow one is bomb,” he says. I recognize it for what it is, a prompt for me to chill and engage in the scenic view with him.
I nod. “Yeah, it looks good.” They all look good. I can’t bring myself to care about the stupid house, but I do care about Max, who, it strikes me, I know very little about. “Where are you from?” I ask. I can’t believe I haven’t asked him that yet, or anything else for that matter.
“Duluth, Minnesota.”
“How does that work?” I ask, sitting next to him. “Isn’t everyone in Duluth Swedish or something? It sounds like the whitest place on the planet.”
He laughs. “It pretty much is. My parents are both math professors at the University of Minnesota. I was basically the only black kid wherever I went, at least until I got to college. It was a total culture shock.”
“Professors. That sounds nice.” I wonder whatmyparents do. Or if they’re even still alive.
“It was nice. I grew up in a renovated old house in a residential neighborhood overlooking the lake. My childhood was all hockey, science fairs, hot chocolate after school.”
“Overlooking the lake,” I repeat. “Sounds pretty bougie to me.” My cynicism about the view is melting away with Max, though. There’s something psychologically healing about overlooking the world from a hilltop. “Why is a view so calming?” I ask.
“Because you can see your enemies coming. It’s a biology thing.”
He’s right. If whoever pushed me into Cupid came running up the hill, I’d go in the other direction—or maybe stand my ground. Max is so smart.
“Duluth is the middle-class version of this. Lake Superior looks as big as an ocean, but it’s gray and frozen half the year.”
Suddenly I want to ask Max a million questions—Does he have siblings? What did he do on Friday nights when he was kid? Who did he take to the prom?—but my thoughts areinterrupted by another notification from Instagram. I think it’s going to be Jules but it’s a message from someone called@JennyBeans11561.
Hi, saw your selfie at the museum. Super cute!Anyhoo, I worked the night of the party. Your GF is cray.She literally said, “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you!”
My girlfriend?I’m just going to take this as confirmation that I definitely wasn’t getting along with at least one woman at the party.
I respond, Thanks@JennyBeans11561! Let me know if you think of anything else. Love your profile photo! Xoxo.
Max isn’t impressed when I read the message out loud to him. “I don’t know if someone who goes by @JennyBeans11561 is a credible source.”
