Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RUSTY
A sh kissed me.
Ash kissed me.
Ash kissed me.
I shower and get dressed in record speed so I can wait for her at the table. Apart from some missing bacon, the spread looks undisturbed. I flip open my tablet and distract myself with work until Ash comes down.
She's not wearing my jersey anymore, but she is wearing my sweats with one of my hoodies like they were made for her. Pookie follows Ash like a little guard dog.
"I could get used to seeing you like this," I say.
She smiles and sits cross-legged at the table.
"I'm glad to hear that," she says. "Because I'm not giving any of your clothes back."
I laugh and my hair falls forward. She reaches across the table and brushes it back. Her fingernails scrape lightly across my skin, making my eyes close. I want to grab her hand and kiss it. I want to use that hand to tug her forward so our mouths can meet. I want to sweep every last item from this table and pull her across it and kiss her until our souls merge.
I want it all.
I want a million more meals like this one. Smiles passed across the room like secret love notes. Coded glances and the intimacy of her passing me the syrup without my having to ask. Talking work at the table and laughing over Greg’s prolific Facebook posts. Cleaning the kitchen and listening to the latest episode of our favorite podcast.
After breakfast, she pulls me upstairs to my room, and we crash on the couch and work. We put together a half dozen new reels featuring Sugar Maple businesses together, and then we move on to the B-roll and make a handful of more targeted ones for the businesses themselves to share. Parker filmed Sonny at the coffee shop — Sugar Maple and Spice — and got footage of him spilling his drink down the front of his shirt. The camera shakes with her laughter and follows him out of the shop and down the street, where he talks to every person he sees. They walk into Teddy's wife's tourist trap of a store and Sonny flips through a rack of t-shirts. He pulls one out, puts it in front of his body, and looks at the camera with a thumbs-up. He goes into the bathroom and comes out wearing the new shirt with that same thumbs up.
"Let’s align the before and after shots of him in his old shirt and him in the new and do a quick cut," Ash says, and I add it to the list of notes I'm taking.
We have a lot of solid content, and by mid-afternoon, we're spent. Or at least I am. Ash is an Energizer Bunny, but my brain needs a break. When I lean back on the couch and rub my eyes, she doesn't notice at first, so I take advantage of the opportunity to watch her. Her curls are piled on top of her head, with some spilling out because she has so much hair. Her glasses slip down her nose and she pushes them back up. At one point, she stops what she's doing and scratches her forehead, staring at her laptop. Then inspiration must strike, because she starts moving her mouse around, clipping and editing footage and adding a clever caption. Finally, she throws her arms up triumphantly and falls back into the couch.
"This must be how Da Vinci felt finishing the Mona Lisa," she says.
I don't laugh. I'm too entranced watching her smile.
"Let's go out," I say.
She turns her face to mine. "Okay. Should I dress up?"
That's a date question, and it's a good thing, because I'm asking her on an actual date.
"No. What you're wearing is perfect."
"Funny guy. I'll be back down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Maybe, three."
"I'll wait as long as it takes for you."
"Please tell me someone good's playing at the bar tonight," I say to Patty. He's on speakerphone while I get ready in the guest bathroom. I've thrown on a T-shirt that fits a little closer than I normally like, and I'm wearing jeans Ash once whistled at me for wearing. I haven't worn them since that day, because the pain of hope was too harrowing.
"Yeah,” Patty says. “It's the 77's."
"Oh, they're opening for Lucy Jane — " I shut my mouth, wanting to kick myself.
"Don't tell me you're into Lucy Jane, too."
"What, a guy can't like female artists?"
"Stop," he says. "Dolly, yes. Loretta Lynn or Winona Williams, of course. But she doesn't have their heart or their musical chops."
I almost never disagree with Patty. I've looked up to the guy since I was seven. But he tends to think that if something has gotten too mainstream, it must not be good. I doubt he's heard more than a few seconds of any of Lou's stuff. “Let me guess: someone at the bar put a Lucy Jane song on a playlist, and when you saw patrons singing along, you killed it immediately.”
He doesn’t deny it. "She has a song called ' Baby Llama Drama .'"
"Dolly has a song called '9 to 5.' And have you actually listened to 'Baby Llama Drama?' It's an earworm if I ever heard one."
"Is that the standard for whether or not something's good?"
"You're right," I say. "Forgettable music is so much better."
I can almost hear him gnashing his teeth. "We done here?"
I hold back my laugh. It's not often I get the better of him in a discussion, especially one about music. "We're done. See you tonight."
When I come out of the bathroom, Ash is already ready.
I washed her clothes, so she's wearing her jeans from yesterday — a loose pair that tapers and roll up at the cuff. She has on the tank top she must have worn under her outfit along with one of my plaid shirts tied at the front. She usually likes to match her makeup to the stripe in her hair, but she's wearing bright red lipstick, and with her cat eye glasses and her hair still up in that sexy bun, she looks almost like a Rockabilly princess.
"Wow," I say. "You are gorgeous ."
Pookie barks and I do a double take.
Ash has dyed a blue stripe in Pookie's crazy ear hair. I laugh. "How did you do that?"
"Food coloring. It'll wash out."
" When did you do that?"
"Three minutes ago. You took longer than you think."
"I had to shave."
Her eyebrows raise and she leans forward, batting those huge eyes at me. "Oh, did you? And why did you need to shave? "
Fire roars low in my gut at the flirty question and even flirtier look on her face. I want to go full steam ahead with the flirting. I want to be open and tell her exactly how I feel. But I also don't want to spook her. I don't want to risk pushing her past a tipping point that goes in the wrong direction. We've fake dated for just over a week, and it's been the best week of my life. If I'm misreading her, I risk all of this ending before I'm ready.
I'll never be ready.
"Stick with me and you'll find out."
Part of the reason I took so long getting ready was that I called ahead to all of Ash's favorite places to get the makings of a picnic.
"I have no fudge," Jorge said when he answered.
"What do you mean? You sell fudge."
"Yeah, and I sold out!" he said. "I opened at ten like usual, and the line was down the street! I sold out by noon."
When Tia answered, she was too harried to say much, but her enthusiasm was contagious. "You can have anything you want on the house, Loverboy! We're packed."
"That busy, huh?"
"I haven't peed since we opened."
"Not sure I needed to know that."
"This is all y'all's doing, so you need to know. Everyone's asking for 'exactly what Lucy Jane got,' and when they find out we ran out, we're pretending we know the other stuff she likes."
Lou's a regular at the diner, so Tia doesn’t realize how true that statement was.
"That's great, Tia."
"It is if Bill agrees to sell to me. I saw him fuming and talking to that greasy Yankee who's been in town all week. They weren't happy. How could the man be angry about making money? "
I knew exactly why. Dumfries Holding would never agree to buy a single restaurant. If they can't take over all of Maple Street, there's no use in putting in one franchise.
Tia was only too happy to take my order, and she promised to have it ready in a picnic basket to go.
We drive toward Maple Street, and when we start getting close, we notice the number of cars parked on the street and filling the roads. People jump over huge puddles, but they excitedly point to places in Lou's reel and take pictures. We can't even turn onto Maple, it's so busy.
"There's no parking! Anywhere!" Ash exclaims.
The town is always busier on Saturdays, but this is unlike anything I've ever seen. Jorge wasn't kidding about the lines of people. They're in every store, including the hardware store and Chick's Bait and Tackle. Everywhere, people are taking selfies and walking around with shopping bags. Someone must have mobilized every food truck in the region.
Ash laughs in disbelief and I can't help putting my arm around her and pulling her as close as the console will allow me.
Note to self: trade in the truck for one with a bench seat.
I pull into the alley, where fortunately people have obeyed the "Authorized parking only" signs. Ash and I walk hand in hand down the street toward the diner, weaving around the throngs of people. We glance into Nico's thrift and vintage store, and he looks as gruff and grumpy as ever. But busy.
So busy.
"I can't believe it," Ash says. She lets go of my hand to hug my arm.
"I can."
She scrunches her nose. "You really are the best person I’ve ever known."
Her words don’t cause the pang they normally do. If I make her happy, how bad could I be?
At the diner, Tia has a picnic basket ready and waiting .
"Thanks, Tia. I owe you," I tell her at the door. People standing in line down the street glare at us, but I don't care.
"Anything for y'all," Tia says. "Now get outta here. I don't got time for chitchat!"
"Hey, do you guys know Lucy Jane?" a teen girl asks as we leave the diner.
"Yes!" Ash gushes. "She's my best friend!"
The girl's jaw hits the floor but one of her friends elbows her. "She's teasing you. As if they actually know LJ."
"Wouldn't it be amazing if we knew LJ?" Ash asks me.
"It'd be pretty cool."
"Good luck finding her!" Ash says, but the girls shoot her withering looks. "I cannot wait to tell Lou about this."
We reach the riverwalk, but it's almost as busy as Maple Street. We walk by an ice cream cart, and she stares at it.
"Uh, Rusty? When did we get ice cream carts in Sugar Maple?"
"They probably work at one of the ballfields and decided to set up shop closer."
"I wonder how busy the farm is today."
"Tripp texted and said we're at capacity. And the factory is full, too."
She laughs incredulously, but I don't understand how she could possibly be surprised. Excited, sure. But surprised? She has a Midas touch with ads and marketing. A week from now, every town will be trying to copy what she’s done here. Lou’s fans will post countless copycat videos of themselves in Sugar Maple trying to recreate her reel frame by frame.
We can't find an empty bench to eat at, so I lead her to a hidden gem off the beaten path. It's tucked deep into the trees that flank this part of the river, and it's not the easiest spot to get to, but there's a clearing about eight feet back from the river once we're there. I try to push the branches out of Ash's way as much as possible, but when we stop, she has leaves in her hair .
I pluck them out. "Nature looks good on you."
"Everything looks good on you," Ash blurts.
No amount of cold plunges could prepare me for the extraordinary task of not kissing her right here, right now.
I lay down a thick blanket and hear a FaceTime call on Ash’s phone.
“It’s my parents. Do you mind if I get this? I know they’d love to say hi."
"I don't mind," I say.
She accepts the chat, and the screen flashes with the beaming faces of her parents. They're in Greg's home office, which has a huge Silver Surfer poster in the background. I commented on the poster the first time I saw it — I know comic books as well as any kid with a love of reading and a bent for visual arts. Greg was surprised I knew him and told me that Black dads from his generation all love the Silver Surfer. Then he friended me on Facebook and sent me links to posts about it, and we became social media friends who share nerdy comic book memes.
Yes, I'm friends with Ash's dad.
"Hi, AJ!" Greg says. "Rusty! My man!
"Hi, baby," her mom says. "Hi Rusty!"
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson,” I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ash’s mouth twist.
“Call them Greg and Jennifer,” she says. Her smile looks forced. “You’ve known them long enough. Greg sent you like seven memes this morning.”
“She’s right.” Greg laughs. Then he gives me a Dad look. “Now, are you treating my baby girl well?"
"Yes sir," I say.
"Good man."
Ash's mom moves her head around as if she's trying to see past us. "Are you two on a date?" she asks.
She always asks this. And Ash always rolls her eyes and says, " Calm down. We're just friends." It's a knife twisting in my gut time and again. I brace myself for a twist?—
"Well, we're eating together," Ash says, her intonation rising and falling suggestively. "Alone."
I forget we're on camera and stare at Ash. The side of her mouth quirks up as she keeps looking at her parents on the screen.
"YOU'RE ON A DATE!" her mom says. "I knew it. I knew you'd realize soon enough that you two are meant to be? — "
"Mom!"
"Hon," Greg says at the same time. "Let's give them a bit of space to breathe. On their date."
Ash's mom cackles and kisses Greg. "That's my hunk of a man," she says.
Greg takes a bite at Ash's mom, and it's cheesy and mildly inappropriate, and I find I love these two more than ever.
They're rooting for me.
That has to mean something, right?
But then, Ash likes jerks. I'm not a goofball like Greg, but I'm not a manipulative bully like Frank or Philip.
Am I? Something is changing between us. Does that mean she sees me as a jerk? Has she caught glimpses of the darkness in me that I've tried so hard to keep tamped down?
No. I can’t believe that. If she’s seen that darkness, she’s not attracted to it.
Is she?
"Bye, guys!" Ash's mom says.
"Bye!" Ash hangs up with a laugh. "They're not even trying to be subtle."
I look down at the picnic without focusing on anything.
"Rusty?" Ash waves her hand in front of my face, and my eyes snap back into focus. "You spaced on me. Everything okay?"
"You have a thing for jerks. "
"Yeah. I used to have terrible taste in guys."
My head flies up. "Used to? Last week when Philip showed up, you looked thrown. Your friends were desperate to get a buffer between you two."
Ash frowns, looking deep in thought. "I know, but I honestly can't remember what I ever found appealing about him."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I don't know how I ever liked him, let alone wanted to prove anything to him."
My heart hammers in my throat. "It's barely been a week. What's changed?"
She takes a bite of her burger, then licks the grease off her pinky. She chews for a moment. "What's your favorite sport?"
"Pardon?"
"What's your favorite sport?"
"Don’t tell Duke and Sonny, but baseball."
"Okay, baseball. Let's say there were only two teams in baseball, and one was a bunch of players who train hard, play hard, and treat their fans with respect and the other was a bunch of players who suck at life and mock their fans while trying to cheat the whole time. Whose jersey would you wear?"
She’s painting me in too good a light. “What if your team sometimes storms the mound when a player gets hit? What if they want to retaliate? What if they?—”
“What if they’re human?”
“Worse.”
She grabs my hand. The one with the scar. “Not worse. Human. I can handle rooting for humans who try and fail and try again if those humans can handle having a crazy superfan who paints her face and screams too loudly for them to win the whole time.”
Human.
Does this mean she’s seen the way I storm the mound and … accepts it ?
Accepts me?
I press my lips inward, not daring to smile. Not daring to cry. My voice is thick with emotion, but I try to keep it light. “I think the team is just happy their superfan cares.”
"That’s a relief.” Ash’s lips pull into a slow smile. "Because your jersey is way cuter. When in doubt, always root for the team with the cutest jersey."