Talking to him the other day had been easier than I’d expected it to be. Even for just those few minutes, it was such a relief to find a person out here who didn’t feel like part of my past. Who wasn’t trying to remind me of who I’d been at eighteen.
But now that I’m here, I’m not convinced that’s a good enough reason to show up at a stranger’s job unannounced. Sure, Ro had begged to see the questionnaire, but I highly doubt he expected me to hand deliver it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forgotten about it completely.
Before anyone can prove I’ve temporarily lost my mind, I scan the lot and slide my sunglasses up my nose.Because apparently that makes me invisible.I turn the steering wheel toward the exit, fully aware that my behavior is bordering on creepy now. And by “bordering” I mean that if the roles were reversed, I’d already have Ro’s name and detailed description on an offender registry or two.
I can almost taste my freedom, but there goes the universe again. Thinking she’s so damn funny.
Ro steps out of the open garage doors, yanking a towel from his back pocket. He balls it up to fire off at someone or something inside, and his head tilts up toward the sky. Mouth breaking wide into a laugh. Even at this distance, I can feel the honeyed warmth of it.
He smiles, like nothing in the world matters more than this moment, and I forget I’m supposed to be escaping. Besides, on the mortification spectrum, being caught mid-getaway has to be worse than an awkward hello, right?RIGHT?
I don’t have time to reach a verdict before our eyes lock across the parking lot. Ro’s thick eyebrows crinkle in confusion as I step out of the car—and very briefly consider slashing my own tire to have a legitimate excuse for being here.
But as quickly as his confusion comes, it’s replaced by another one of his smiles. This one reaches both corners of his eyes and I can’t help but smile back.
Ro’s long legs and heavy boots close the distance between us. “Aye! What up, E?”
“E?”
“Yeah. Like your battery.”
“Very funny,” I say, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance. “I hope it’s not weird I just showed up like this, I know you’re busy—”
“Nah, it’s dead today. Pops is in there with way too much time on his hands. Tryin’ to school me on his old man jams, but he can’t tell me nothing I don’t already know.” Ro raises his voice to a yell at the end, though I doubt his dad can hear the challenge from this distance. “I could actually use some backup,” he says, holding an arm out for me to lead the way back to the garage. “Maybe he’ll stop cheating if we’ve got a witness.”
I don’t know what kind of reception I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.
I’m still trying to conjure up a lie for when his dad inevitably asks why I’m here, when a Ro look-alike emerges from behind the hood of a black BMW. I freeze at the threshold like a vampire awaiting a formal invitation.
“Yo, Pops,” Ro says, walking past me. “This is Kaia. Her car was here over the weekend.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kaia,” his dad says, assessing me. “Car still giving you trouble? Son, go ahead and pull her paperwork for me.”
“Nah, it was just a quick job,” Ro says, conveniently leaving out that the “job” was a thirty-minute charge I should’ve done myself.
“Yeah. No, everything’s good Mr…. ?”
“Jackson,” he says. “Or you can call me Pops. Everyone else does.” He laughs as he holds his hands out to his namesake garage. “Still blame Ro for that one. Had all his little friends calling me that so long, it stuck.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it, PJ,” Ro says, catching the towel his dad throws in his direction this time.
My head volleys between their broad smiles, equally bright against their smooth skin. Each of their brown eyes so dark they’d be black if not for the tiniest hint of gold at their edges. Crinkling into crescent moons when they laugh their same easy laugh. His dad really saidcopy & paste.The only notable difference is Mr. Jackson’s dimple is on his right cheek, where Ro’s digs into the left—two sides of the same face.
“Mr. Jackson,” I decide. “I just came by to drop something off. For Ro.”
Ro raises an eyebrow in my direction again, surprised by the news.
But Mr. Jackson’s attention is elsewhere. “Boy, you got about thirty seconds left on this song before you gotta write my nameon that winner’s board again. I know you don’t think distracting me with this young lady’s gonna save you.”
“I already got this one and you know it.”
“There you go, tryin’ to change the rules on me,” Mr. Jackson says, laughing. “Kaia, I’m sorry you have to see this. I promise you never met a man worse at losing than my boy.”
And there it is, like clockwork. Any time I see dads with their kids, dads who stayed, there’s alwaysa moment.A moment I get a glimpse of what life could be like. A moment I have to force a smile as I swallow heavy past a familiar pang in my chest.
Ro’s laugh puts a welcome end to that moment. “Man, don’t do me like that, Pops!”
“Okay,” I say, raising my hand. “I think I’m a little lost.”
