Page 29

“I’ve never been to Hawaii and so far it’s stunning.”

“You’ll fit right in” He says it dismissively like it’s a compliment but not really meant for me.

“You don’t have to keep flattering me. I’m already here.”

“Who says I’m flattering you?” He puts me off balance, and somewhere between trying to be cruel and cool, I lose my breath.

I grew up with a carnival of people getting hooked on the money or trying to get high to feel something or not feel something which leaves some people believing they’re invincible. I’d rather be invisible to that crowd. I’m not sure what the money means to him yet. I’ll tuck my judgy back, at least until I get to go shopping. My breath returns with a less hopeful sigh, and more of a knowing exhale. I wander back to my seat, and he seems to be working a little bit.

I may hide from my parents, but he’s flat-out lying to his. Maybe his way of hiding is better than mine. He doesn’t seem nearly as angry or as lost as me. And I hate him for that. Perhaps he knows something I’ve overlooked. I’ll watch and learn.

I touch his back and he turns to me as we shuffle forward. “How do we get out of engagement party planning?”

“I’m flying to Bangladesh early Sunday morning, does that work?.”

“That works.” He puts a finger over his lips and looks around. Shit. We’re on.

I turn away from him without saying anything. I want to fly off to Bangladesh. There has to be a whole new life waiting for me there. You can be anyone in some place that exotic. Sounds so much better than returning to my parents’ pool house in Rhinebeck. Or Courtney’s RV.

“Come on.” We’ve been called to a desk.

“Don’t worry, I have to follow you, you’re my spirit animal.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s the number one reason I got in the car.” I shrug and he gets called forward.

“ID and credit card, Mr. Jackson.”

She returns his ID and I nab it to see the picture. “Who’s John Colin Jackson? Also, Colin. That’s so cute.”

He rolls his eyes. “Zane’s an Italian derivative of John. I’m actually John Colin Jackson IV. My dad goes by Jack. My grandpa was JJ. My great-grandpa was the only one called John.”

I lean up against the desk and face him.

“Jack Jackson? Zane’s better.”

“Okay, smart ass. What’s your full name?”

“Kat Taylor.” His voice is low so no one can hear us.

“No middle name? Really? Come on, our kind love a long and drawn out name. What is Kat short for? Katarina, Katherine, Katia?”

“It’s bad.” I grimace as I try to slink away. He stops me with a hand on my hip.

“Kat’s never a nickname for something bad. You have to tell me. That’s the game.”

I suck in as much air as I can, momentarily stunned by how good he smells after all this travel, and exhale my name. “Kaiser Agnes Taylor.”

“Here you are, Mr. Jackson. Two keys and this comes with the villa.” She slides a small card attached to a keychain to him, and I walk away to the side of the lobby. I grab an apple from a random table and start munching.

“I’m sorry, did you say Kaiser? As in Roll? Or Soze? Were your parents on crack?” I turn to him.

“Kaiser is an ancestral name my father wanted to preserve.”

“That doesn’t even touch Agnes, or where Kat comes from.”

“Grandma, maternal side. And my initials, K.A.T.”