“Hey,” I call. “Shitshow, all ’round?”
She raises her head and flashes me a watery smile. “Pretty much.”
“Fuck,” I say for what feels like the millionth time. I should sew the word into a fifty-foot banner and fly it above my head.
“It’s not just Davis. It’severything. The bar. Jenny showing up. The fuckingaudacityof men.” She laughs, a low, weary sound. “Why do they all think we’re going to break without them?”
“No idea,” I say, sliding into the seat across from hers. “But if you do break, it won’t be because of some rodent drop-off from Jenny.”
“You think it was her, too?”
“I know it was.”
We’re quiet for a moment, Cece pulls her hoodie tighter around her neck. “You know what? Let’s go to Pukekohe.”
“You’re sure? Aren’t there things you need to sort?”
“Nope. The bar’s shut and I’ve sent everyone home. Aggie’s already offered to have Des come around and sort the mice and… I don’t know. I kind of just want to leave it with her. I can’t think about this anymore, and I don’t want to be here another second. Let’s just leave.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. If I stay, I’m gonna burn the place down.”
“Then let’s go. You packed?”
“Yup.”
“Me too. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We head upstairs and collect our luggage, leaving the bar dark behind us.
A wave of loneliness sweeps over me until I look at my ivy tattoo. A permanent reminder that I’m not alone.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say to Cece.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” she says, more tears welling in her eyes. “Whatever’s waiting for us at home can’t be worse than this.”
Pukekohe isn’t my home, but the closest I have is with her. I don’t say that, though. I don’t say anything as we walk around Stabbies to where Cece’s blue Toyota Yaris is parked. When I first got here, I spraypainted ‘The Boss’ in front of her space in hot pink. The sight of the letters, faded on the asphalt, makes me want to cry. Ceceisthe boss. She deserves to be treated like the boss. I hate that all of this is happening to her, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t risen to Jenny’s Instagram bait, she never would have come here…
Cece gets into the driver’s seat, and I take shotgun. ‘Sleep To Dream’ blares to life as she cranks the engine. I close my eyes, and we might be fucked up failures with a million questions and no answers, but we’re together, and in this moment, it’s enough to get moving.
Besides, Cece’s right. Things can’t possibly get worse.
19
Cece
The fear hits me before daylight does, pulling me from my slumber. I lie in the dark of my hotel room, my long list of failures marching through my head.
Money.
Men.
Mice.
Ada and I slipped into a safe little bubble on the drive down. It felt so good to leave the city behind. I’d solved nothing, but I didn’t have to. We had clear skies, a massive bag of sour worms, and Ada’s high school nostalgia playlist. Every so often, we’d belt out the words to ‘Parlez-Vous Franci’s or ‘Dog Days Are Over,’ then we’d drift back into silence, letting the music speak for us.
At one point, I asked about Jake, but Ada kept her eyes on the traffic jammed up in front of us. “I can’t, Cee. It sucks too much, and my brain’s full of other stuff.”
