The premise of the trip was not entirely untrue. She was stress-riddled because she had spent her days helping others process their intense emotions and avoiding her own. The trip took place after her third year as a counselor and directly following a not-very-nice break-up with her latest boyfriend.
“How did Mom know…?” Ack. It didn’t matter. Her mom had ways of knowing all the things. Becca would do better not to ask that question.
“You found out I was a Ten.” It wasn’t a question. She had stated fact.
He nodded. “Which means you have to follow the Dimefront groupie code.”
There was absolutely no such thing as a Ten code. If there was, she would have heard about it long before now.
“What exactly does that involve?” she asked. “Let me guess. First rule is you don’t talk about groupie code?”
“No.” He turned onto I-70, toward her apartment. “First rule is that a Ten always identifies herself. That way, it does not surprise unsuspecting bass players. We don’t like surprises, unless it involves a thousand dollars of free tacos.”
She scoffed but settled in for the conversational ride. “Is that a euphemism?”
“No, for real. I’ve never met anyone in the business who doesn’t love a good taco credit.” He lifted his hands from the steering wheel in mock shock.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious.” Oh, she could tell he wasn’t. But this was fun.
“I’m always serious.” He used a tone that she called total rubbish on.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I retired my Ten status years ago. Thus, I have nothing to confess.” She held up her rock ’n roll devil horns like the groupie badge of honor they were.
He paused. The Adams apple in his throat worked against the stubble. “That thing about Bax? Was that true?”
The words were light coming from his tongue, but she had enough experience to tell the answer mattered to him.
“Yes.” She nodded. But also, no, because, “We didn’t fool around. We just talked.”
The expression on Linx’s face broadcasted his distrust of that assertion. “Bax doesn’t talk.”
“He talked to me.” He had. Bax was a good guy with a double helping of confusion. They’d talked it all through.
Linx didn’t look like he believed her.
“What? I’m easy to talk to,” she said because it was true.
They sat in silence for half a minute, Linx staring at the road as he drove. His eyes glazed over. He was a million miles away. Probably somewhere in Europe, trying to remember the Penny tour.
“Okay,” he said, eventually.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, as though this made perfect sense.
“You believe me?”
His throat worked again. “I trust you. So, yeah, I believe you.” He thought for a long moment before saying, “It’s none of my business.”
Good. They agreed. Digging deep into the past brought on a whole slew of emotions. Given that emotional distance was key to her holiday fling with Linx, they needed to leave it be.
Too bad the distance mantra sat uncomfortably sideways in her belly.
“I guess it’s a good thing we’ll both let the past go because I’d really prefer we not go through a full sexual history,” he said. “That would take way too much time.”
It wouldn’t take that much time… not for her, anyway. Sure, she knew he had a history but—
“How much time are we talking?” she asked, nudging him with her elbow. “Like an hour or all night?”
