Chapter 12
Along a dusty highway in Barstow, Lola Sun pulled her matte-black Harley-Davidson over to the side of the road, looking back
in the direction of Los Angeles one hundred miles to the southwest. As she took off her helmet, she wondered if she should
just turn back, if this Sun cousin reunion really was as bad an idea as it had sounded when she first read the group text
from Wayward last week.
The last time the Sun cousins had partied together in Barstow had been four long years ago, and Lola had expected to never
return after how spectacularly that fateful gathering had imploded. Roses had just promoted Wayward over April at Sunfang
Global, and a long-simmering tension between the two cousins-turned-colleagues, centrifuged with copious amounts of MDMA,
ending up erupting at a boiling point of heliacal proportions.
For five hours, the once-inseparable Wayward and April raved and ranted at each other as Lola, her sister, Felicia, and Sunbern
cowered in the corner of their family RV. As the Sun cousins peaked on the worst ecstasy trip of all time, the then-twenty-four-year-old
Lola had sworn off drugs and alcohol right then and there.
Yes, Lola had debated whether she was going to show up at Wayward’s invite.
But when Sunbern confirmed that he was planning to go, she knew she should be there to chaperone him.
It was of the utmost importance that Sunbern’s baby plans remain confidential for now, but he had a mouth bigger than the Sunfang Trust, and with this unsupervised mouth he would surely ruin their chance at claiming it.
She took out her Sunfang phone, pulling up the surreptitiously taken photo of Big Boss Sun’s will that April’s husband, Cristiano,
had sneaked for her from Roses’s home office. She read the consequential sentence, underlined by Roses in bold red ink, that
had ignited their audacious game: “In the event that I do not have a paternal grandson by blood, the first male child to be
born of any of my grandchildren shall inherit the Sunfang Trust.”
Making up her mind, Lola got back on her bike. There was too much at stake. Should Sunbern and Shannon manage to have a son
the quick and easy old-fashioned way, they would soundly beat Wayward with his IVF complexities. And Lola fully expected to
end the year with what was rightfully hers, as long as she maintained control over the situation.
Lola still knew the directions by heart. As she roared down the I-15, Lola passed the burned-down barn and clocked the Jesus
Saves billboard that soon followed it. She drove at exactly sixty miles per hour for seven minutes and twenty-three seconds.
Then she veered left into what appeared to be a cluster of dead bushes.
Beyond the brush there was the faintest of roads into the high desert wilderness. As she sped away from civilization, her
bike bumped up and down on the rocky terrain.
Lola gripped her handlebars with her leather gloves.
She squinted through her sunglasses as what appeared to be a massive black box suddenly loomed on the horizon.
She had an idea of what it was, but it was still miles away from their final destination.
Wondering what was up, she picked up her speed, and the massive family RV grew larger and larger upon her approach.
Awkwardly holding a jack in his hands, Wayward was staring in dismay at the flat tire on the rear right side of the RV when
he heard the familiar rumble of a Harley-Davidson. He looked up to see his baby cousin, Lola, in full leather biker gear zooming
toward him like a hawk on the hunt. His heart sped up a tick in anticipation.
Though they were closest in age, Wayward and Lola had never been particularly close otherwise—after all, Wayward’s childhood
confidante was April, while Lola’s was Sunbern. But as the cleverest two of their generation, they held each other with a
certain esteem and respect . . . and occasionally suspicious side-eyes. In their childhood years, they’d locked horns over
a few rivalries, and despite the fact that they were both fast approaching thirty now, those seminal memories were not the
type that faded away easily.
Lola pulled up next to Wayward, who was waving her down. As she dismounted the bike, she was already holding out her hand
for the jack.
“Way, one of these days you need to learn something practical . . . like how to change a tire.” She bent down to wedge the
jack under the bottom of the RV.
Wayward was hoping they’d begin with a hug but knew not to push it with Lola. “Why would I need to when I got you, Lo?” He
took a step back as Lola moved in front of him with the spare tire. “Are you sure that jack can lift this whole RV? It’s got
to weigh a ton.”
She motioned him over to her side. “It’s thirty tons, to be exact, but the wheels in the back have their own section that lifts on its own. C’mon, those arms of yours aren’t just for show.” She smiled her brilliant smile finally, her eyes twinkling a bit at him in an act of truce.
Wayward laughed, relieved. “My muscles are for display purposes only, but I’ll do my best, baby cuz.”
As Wayward grunted and huffed at the jack, Lola stood back to get a good look at him. He had lost a little weight, and he
did look tired . . . but he always looked tired. When she had gotten his text out of nowhere a few days ago asking for a fix,
she had ignored it, hoping it was just a moment of weakness, not a full relapse.
Besides, her days of dealing to Wayward were over. They might never have been warm and fuzzy, but he was her cousin, and she
was not about to be responsible for Wayward overdosing, or worse.
“There!” Wayward said, standing up to stretch his sore shoulders. “That should be enough.”
Lola returned from her flashback to see that the RV had been propped up by a couple inches. “Hand me the spare,” she ordered.
Lola sat next to Wayward in the passenger seat as they drove in silence through the desert. Each time the RV shook over a
bump on the road, she winced, hoping that her Harley-Davidson was strapped securely enough to the back.
“I’m glad you came,” Wayward said finally.
Lola propped her legs up on the dash as she leaned her seat back. “I almost didn’t.”
Wayward nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me, Lo. Listen, I’m sorry about that text. I shouldn’t put you in that position. I
won’t ask you again.”
She shook her head, looking out the window at the Joshua trees. “You asking me isn’t what worries me. Did you manage to get
any?”
“Of course not,” Wayward said emphatically. “I’m not using that stuff anymore, I swear.” He sniffed somewhat defensively.
Lola knew that interrogating him more would just lead to mutual angst, so she changed the subject. “So what made you decide
to get the band back together again? You got something to announce before Roses’s party tomorrow?”
They looked at each other with deadpan faces. Then at the same time, the two of them broke into shit-eating grins. “Lola,
I’m not going to insult you by assuming that you don’t already know,” Wayward said. “You’ve never missed a single trick in
this family.”
“So you’re really going through with this baby, aren’t you? Somewhere Auntie Roses is already blackmailing Harvard admissions.”
Wayward chuckled, but then quickly sobered. He glanced over at her nervously. “So you are okay with it?” He had been waiting
to ask this of his baby cousin, because he knew very well that success within the Sun Clan was all but impossible if Lola
Sun was against one’s cause.
Lola leaned her head against the window, feeling the warm sun on her cheek. “It’s got nothing to do with me. Why shouldn’t
I be okay with it?”
Wayward caught her nonanswer with a bit of trepidation. “Well, technically your dad should have been Big Boss Sun’s heir,
so it kind of does have something to do with you . . .”
Lola volleyed back to him quickly. “Way, the moment Felicia and I were born without Y chromosomes, we were out of the running.
Doesn’t matter what happened with my dad. I accepted it a long time ago.” She looked over at him earnestly. “I’m okay with
it, and I’m happy for you, cousin.” If he was going to shamelessly lie to her about his drug use, she was happy to return
the favor.
Wayward nodded gratefully at her, appeased for now. “Speaking of Felicia . . . do you think your big sis is gonna come?”
Lola’s face clouded over. “Your guess is as good as mine.” With that, she put on her headphones and began blasting heavy metal.
Wayward sighed to himself and turned his eyes back on the road. They still had a few miles left, but clearly this conversation
was over.
In the middle of the dry desert bed of what was long ago a magnificent lake, April sat in her minivan, wondering where the
fuck everyone was. She was used to being more punctual than her younger cousins, but this was ridiculous. Surely Wayward as
the host should have made a concerted effort to arrive first and have the RV ready and set up with air-conditioning and hot
food and cold booze—as this had been entirely his idea in the first place!
April took a toke of her joint as she hotboxed her minivan, the smoke swirling around her along with her frustrations. She
had not wanted to come, but Cristiano had insisted. “Go and make up with Wayward,” her husband had pled. “Do it for Meadow!
She misses her godfather!”
April had not had the energy to argue with her perfect husband playing the Meadow guilt-trip card. Truth be told, she knew
she had been defeated, bested by her own mother and her once-closest cousin. But April also knew that the only thing worse
than defeat was looking defeated. After all, she was the eldest of her generation and still the eventual matriarch of the
family, and she was not going to lose face. Wayward had taken the initiative to regroup all of the cousins, an admittedly
smart move on his part. She could not let him laud his happy news to them while she sulked far away in Malibu.