Soph is typing on her laptop, sitting on the other side of the table from me, but pauses so she can meet my eyes. “Gus was right; she is a pit bull. She’s like those attorneys in movies who face off against the most powerful people in the world and make them cower. I don’t think you have anything to worry about with her in your corner.”
I hope she’s right.
thirty-two
“Areyou sure it’s still Tuesday? This day’s been three days long, and it’s only three o’clock,” Lola says as she clicks her lighter, and I watch the tip of her cigarette glow red and fade to orange. Taking a deep drag, her eyelids drift shut.
“Time zone changes are diabolical,” Mabel says, while she roots through her fanny pack. It’s purple and covered in rhinestones and matches her sun visor. She’s a walking disco ball.
“You went all out with the ensemble today, Mabel. Summer bling, I like it,” I tell her.
Her head turns in my direction, and though I can’t see her eyes behind the giant sunglasses, I can feel them on me. “I vacationed with Elton John in Miami in the early nineties, and he left them in the trunk of my car. I only wear them for special occasions, and I thought California and Gus would appreciate the sparkle.” She lowers the sunglasses and winks before pushing them back into place and resuming the search in her bag.
“You look bangin’,” Lola compliments as she blows smoke behind her.
Mabel smiles sweetly, “I know, sugar,” as she hands her a stick of turkey jerky. “You need some protein.”
Lola takes it. “I really do, thanks. Jet lag is a little bitch.”
I don’t think jet lag is the issue, considering the flight was only two and a half hours long and hopped one time zone. I suspect there’s another culprit. “How many gummies did you guys take in the car on the way to the airport?” I ask.
“One,” Lola says as she tears the plastic wrapper with her teeth. “And then another one when we were in the TSA line because Mabel realized she had a few loose in her jacket pocket.”
Mabel looks at me and shakes her head solemnly. “Didn’t need to ruin the whole trip and spend the night in the clink. Did that once in Mexico, and it’s not something I’d like to repeat. We took one for the team.”
They bump fists.
I raise my hand over my head, three fingers extended.
Lola does the same, cigarette clamped firmly between her pointer and middle fingers, bows her head, and says, “This is probably what Katniss felt like.”
Before I can laugh at these two, a minivan rolls up to the curb, and when the tinted passenger window rolls down, Jesse hangs his arm out and asks, “You hotties need a ride?” as the back door slides open.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Mabel says.
“Does the van come with candy?” I ask as I climb in.
Ever’s in the driver’s seat, focused on his phone, but he laughs quietly. Knowing the amount of stress he’s under, distraction, even if it’s only a moment of laughter, is necessary. It feels like a small victory every time I hear it.
As I slide into the third-row seat next to Benji, I ask, “How was your first flight?” He sat with Lola and Mabel a few rows ahead of the rest of us on the plane.
“Awesome. The flight attendant gave me extra snacksanda second Coke.”
“Bonus. Nice.” Then I call out, “Ev, you have the address for the Airbnb?”
“Got it,” he calls out over the radio. “Looks like it’s a thirty-minute drive.”
A half hour later,our jaws collectively drop as we pull into the driveway of a cozy Spanish-style home whose backyard is the Pacific Ocean.
Jesse peeks around the headrest and says, “First time seeing the ocean is a religious experience, even if you aren’t religious. You never forget it.”
“Skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean is on my bucket list,” Mabel says. “It’s the only one that’s eluded me.”
“Let’s maybe put a pin in that until after dark,” I tell her.
As we’re unloading the van, a woman emerges from the house next door and crosses the lush lawn. “You must be Gus’s friends,” she says as she walks toward us. She’s tall, and though dressed casually in long shorts and a button-down shirt, she looks put together and stylish. Her shoulder-length blonde hair is curled and not a hair is out of place. She might be intimidating if she didn’t have such a kind face.
When she reaches us, she extends a hand to me first since I’m closest. “I’m Audrey, Gus’s mom. I live next door and want to welcome you all to San Diego. We’re so pleased you’re here.”
