For someone who is being obnoxious, she’s whipping this crap out like a pro. I’m fascinated by her storytelling abilities. “Journey, can I take you out for dinner so we can continue this discussion in person? I’d like to hear more about your infamous business.”
She scoffs a quick chuckle. “Like I said, it’s invite-only. I doubt you’d meet the requirements.”
Ouch. “You’re wrong, and it’s not nice to assume anything.”
“Do you have any references?” she continues.
I glance from side to side, thinking of a suitable response. “My ex-wife, I guess, but I’m not sure how honest of a referral she’ll give me.”
“Yeah, amateur acting isn’t our thing either, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
“Come on. Have dinner with me. Let’s catch up.”
Her frozen gaze into the camera of her phone offers a moment of hope that she’s pondering my proposal. “I have a lot going on right now. It’s not the best time.”
She breaks her stare from the camera and peers down. She doesn’t know I’m a professional at detecting emotions or pain. Most people don’t know, and it’s not something I brag about because I don’t think it would be fair to give the other guys a poor reputation. We’re not known as the breed who are quick to notice feelings.
“Do you live alone?” I’m not trying to sound like a creep. I’m curious if she spends most of her time secluded from the world aside from when she’s filming pornos.
“Thankfully, yes,” she says.
“You’re not supposed to admit stuff like that to a man you hardly know,” I tell her.
“I know who you are, Brody. We just haven’t seen each other in fifteen years.”
“A lot can happen in fifteen years,” I argue.
“Yup, it can.”
“I’m going to get to bed now, Razzle is becoming inpatient,” she says.
Razzle. Nice.
“Well tell Razzle, Dazzle, and Snazzle I say hello and to enjoy your company tonight.”
Journey rolls her eyes but fights against a smile as she flips me off and disconnects the call.
She’s totally into me again.
I’ve never asked myself how many times might be too many times to call a woman and beg for her to accept an invitation to dinner. I’ve asked in several unique ways and even tried to be charming once. Nothing has worked, yet she continues to answer my calls. She even shared a tidbit of personal information with me last night. She loves coffee as much as she loves breathing, and she has to be at The Barrel House this morning when I’ll be picking up Parker. Weird timing. Almost like a coincidence, but not quite. If she doesn’t like coincidences, she wouldn’t have told me where she would be this morning. It’s my morning to take both girls to school. Brett and I try to switch off with carpooling as often as we can, but with Hannah’s incessant need to be at school early these past couple of weeks, I’ve had to tell Brett I can take Hannah myself on his mornings. I don’t want to ask him to get up earlier too.
“See, right on time. You thought we’d be late. At some point, you’ll learn to trust me,” I say to Hannah.
With no response, I peek into the rearview mirror, noticing she has her headphones plugged into her ears. I can’t say I feel like I’m talking to myself all the time, when I am talking to myself all the time. I twist around in my seat and point to my ears so she’ll take the earbuds out for a minute, but she holds her hands up with a look of confusion. Was I this bad at her age? There’s just no way.
“I’ll be right back. I have to go pick up Parker,” I tell her, assuming she hears me. We’re parked right out front of the distillery so I can keep an eye on Hannah as I run inside real quick. Journey is visible through the shopfront window, holding an expensive looking camera. She’s sitting on her knees and shifting her head from right to left.
I open the front door and prance in with hands on my hips and my chest puffed out. “Uncle Brody is in the house,” I announce, ignoring Journey’s presence as I’m sure she’ll ignore mine. “Here for Miss Parker Pearson, the youngest of the Pearson clan. Come on down: you just won a round-trip ticket to school by the one and only.”
Brett rolls his eyes and tosses his head back. “You always need to make a show of your grand entrance,” he mutters.
“Uncle Brody,” Parker squeaks while running toward me with open arms. “Look who’s here this morning.” Parker points at Journey, forcing me to do what I was avoiding. As if she’s painful to look at,I’m slow to turn my head to the side, acknowledging her with a stiff nod.
I don’t feel awkward often, but she makes me feel like a bungling idiot. In fact, I don’t recall the last time a woman made me less sure of myself or made me want to look in a mirror before seeing her. I have to guess it’s the unreachable factor. I want what I can’t have. Journey has made that clear. I didn’t even know I wanted her until she kissed me at the school last week. I still can’t figure out why she did that, or what her motive was. Maybe she knew it would make me crazy and just enjoys torturing people. I’d place money on that. However, there’s a slight chance that her erratic behavior is because of something I’m not aware of. It’s a stretch to think that our one make-out session fifteen years ago would hold a flame for so long, but maybe I’m just that damn good. Still doubtful, I guess I’ll go with my original assessment of her behavior, which is to torture me for no apparent reason. I did nothing to her, not anything that I remember, anyway.
I could ask her what was going through her head that night, but that takes away the fun in figuring this cryptic puzzle out. There’s a look about her, one that’s screaming for a hand to hold. Everyone would tell me I’m wrong, but I don’t buy it. How could she be okay? Her dad just died. She’s living alone. From what I’ve gathered through our few phone calls, she doesn’t have much of a social life, and she’s a solo working photographer—not a porn producer like she told me. If she was a porn producer, people would surround her daily, but as a photographer, I wonder if it involves people much at all. She said something about object photography as her specialty. I assume that is what she is doing with the bourbon bottles set up.
I wish I could stay and tease her for a bit, but I have to get the girls to school. The few minute long drive is enough time to come up with my next terrible idea, which is to wait by Journey’s Jeep until she’s done with the bourbon photoshoot. I’ll catch her off guard and ask all the questions I want answers to. I’ll even offer to buy her a coffee. She can’t turn that down if she enjoys it as much as breathing.
