Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
THEO
Holy fuck!
She took the money and agreed.
I honestly can’t believe it. I assumed she was more stubborn than that, that she’d fall into the hands of debt before she borrowed money from me.
The situation must be dire for her to agree to my terms, not that they were extravagant. All she has to do is go on walks with me. Seems simple, right?
Wrong.
She doesn’t understand how charming I can be.
This was the opening I needed.
“Did she take the money?” Rupert asks as he drags his lounge chair up onto the porch.
“She did.”
He pauses and takes off his sunglasses. “Fucking really?”
I nod. “Yup. Phase one has been activated.”
“I thought we were already in phase one.”
“Are we?”
“Phase one, plan B to be correct. Plan A was proposing to her fresh off the airplane. That failed miserably. Honestly, now that we can talk about it, it was hard to watch.” My expression turns to irritation.
“But we’ve moved on to plan B, which is to get into her good graces.
Phase one of plan B has already commenced—you have succeeded in gaining her attention. Now we’re moving on to phase two.”
I scratch my cheek. “If phase one was gaining her attention, don’t you think I did that earlier in the day yesterday, by constantly popping up? That would mean we’re in phase three.”
“But were we in plan B when you gained her attention? Because that would be a huge deciding factor as to where we are in our overall operation of Avoid Neil’s Daughter. Frankly, how are we supposed to function properly if we don’t know what plan or phase we’re in?”
I look Rupert in the eyes. “This is really fucking stupid.”
“Could not agree more, but policy is policy, and if we’re going to ride on the foundation of our friendship where policy rules, then we have to figure out where we are in phase and plan.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know…can’t be sure. I think the sun and humidity have eaten away at my sanity.”
“Yeah, blame that.” I playfully push him. “Have a shower, we’re going shopping.”
Well, this is awkward.
Renley’s driving. Kitty’s in the front seat, Rupert is directly behind her, and I’m sitting next to Rupert.
There isn’t a hint of music.
Not a sprinkle of conversation.
Just silence.
Dead, uncomfortable silence.
I thought Kitty might say something, possibly entertain, but either she’s passed out up front or Renley put her on a strict no-talking policy.
Which brings me back to my phone when it buzzes in my hand with a text from Rupert.
Rupert: Someone needs to say something, I’m about to sweat through my shirt. I can’t stand the silence.
Tell me about it. I text him back.
Theo: Strike up a conversation.
Rupert: Me? Why me? I’m not the one attempting to court the driver without her knowing that you’re courting her.
Theo: Which makes you the prime target to start a conversation, because if it was me, I might come off as trying too hard.
Rupert: You proposed in her front yard after she turned you down earlier. If that’s not trying too hard then I don’t know what is.
Theo: Could do without the impudence. Just say something. Talk to Kitty.
Rupert: Uh…I can’t talk to her, she didn’t comment on my comment—on purpose. I can’t live with that. I’m ashamed.
Theo: Please don’t make me despise you.
Rupert: In sickness and in health, sir, that’s what we agreed upon when entering into this friendship.
Theo: We actually didn’t. There has been no formal agreement that requires me to stick with you through sickness and health.
Rupert: Then what the fuck am I doing in Massachusetts, riding in the back of a moderate Toyota Camry, silence circling me like a goddamn disease? If we aren’t with each other through sickness and health, then get me a first-class ticket back home. See ya, chum.
Theo: I think you’re forgetting one important thing.
You got me into this mess, and if you intend on ditching me, then I have no problem telling my father to look closer at his portrait.
Oh, and the bad cigar in each batch has nothing to do with the company and everything to do with you stealing his prized cigars.
Rupert quickly shoots a glare at me and then texts back with ferocity.
Rupert: You wouldn’t.
Theo: I would.
Rupert: Wow, never thought you’d stoop this low.
Theo: You’re the one saying you’ll ditch me. You started this.
Rupert: No, the silence started this! This is exactly what the silence wants. It wants to tear us apart. We can’t let it do that to us. We have to be strong. Stick together.
Theo: You’re right. What were we thinking?
Rupert: We were thinking too much. The silence, it’s deafening. I can’t take it. Say something. Anything.
Theo: You say something.
Rupert: If I say something then it’s going to be something stupid.
Theo: Tell me what it is and I’ll let you know whether it’s stupid or not.
Rupert: The first thing that came to mind was leotards.
Theo: Why the fuck would you say that?
Rupert: I don’t know, like I said, it was the first thing that came to mind.
Theo: Don’t fucking say that. Makes you look like a pervert.
Rupert: How so?
Theo: Women wear leotards, so it’s just a weird thing to say.
Rupert: I was thinking about wrestling leotards.
Theo: Those are singlets.
Rupert: Are you sure?
Theo: Yes! Also why the hell are you thinking about those?
Rupert: Like I said *in a controlled but stern voice* the silence is eating away at me, my brain cells are diffusing. Soon, I’ll be nothing but a puddle on the footbed of this vehicle. Death by Camry silence. I’m unwell…hold me.
He moves his hand closer to me and I swat it away.
Theo: Get the hell out of here.
“What are you two tea guzzlers whispering about back there?” Kitty says, startling the both of us.
“We’re…we’re not whispering,” I say.
“Through text you are. I can hear your phones buzzing and your fingers tapping away on the screen. So what are you saying?”
Rupert and I exchange glances, me attempting to tell him to keep his mouth shut—
“The silence is deafening,” he says, breaking under pressure. “Why is no one talking? We’re adults. We can have conversation. For the love of God, someone say something!”
The car falls silent for a moment, Renley’s eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror, Rupert practically shaking in his seat, only for Kitty to turn toward us and say to Rupert, “Has anyone ever told you, you look just like Joe Alwyn?”
Gasp.
“Shhhhhhh,” Rupert says in a panic. “By God, woman, do you want the Swifties to rise from the ground and choke me with a cardigan?”
“They can’t hear me,” Kitty says.
“Oh…they can always hear you.” He looks around psychotically. Whispering, he says, “They can hear it all.”
“Speaking of Taylor Swift,” I say, wanting to end Rupert’s mental lapse. “Do you have a favorite Taylor Swift song?”
There, a question. Conversation.
“Where do I begin?” Kitty answers. “And how could I ever pick one? This is one of those questions that only exists to send people to an early grave. There are so many eras, so many different tones and voices and…No, I won’t do it.
You’re a sadist and I will not partake in answering your hellish question. ”
Jesus.
Leaning over, Rupert says, “Should have gone with the leotard.”
Rupert: Ask another question. Try again.
Theo: No. Not happening.
Rupert: I think if you keep Taylor Swift out of it, then you’ll find success.
Theo: Kitty won’t even acknowledge me. When I sneezed, neither of them said bless you. I can understand why Renley didn’t, she’s clearly trying to avoid me. But Kitty? She’s pissed.
Rupert: Which is why you need to win her back. Go ahead, ask another question.
Theo: No.
Rupert: Do it.
Theo: I’d rather suffer through the silence.
Rupert: DO IT!
Theo: NO!!
Rupert clears his throat and then to my horror says, “Theo has a question he wants to ask the car, but he’s too nervous. Why don’t we clap or snap our fingers in encouragement?”
Rupert starts snapping his fingers, but I quickly push his hand down into the seat.
I’m going to murder him.
“You have a question?” Renley asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
So the first time she’s going to talk is to put me on the spot. Fucking great.
“Uh…yeah.” I run my fingers over my thick stubble.
“Well, get on with it, don’t keep us waiting,” Kitty says.
“Umm, well, I was wondering…” Why isn’t anything coming to mind?
It’s like I’ve completely blanked; not a single word is registering.
“Yes?” Renley pushes.
Nervously laughing, I tug my hair.
Anything, you fucking nitwit.
Just ask anything.
“How do you, uh…how do you feel about leotards?”
Fuck, I hate myself.
I glance over at Rupert, who’s winking at me and giving me the thumbs-up while the ladies in the front quickly exchange a look, one I’m sure is full of judgment.
Why? Just…why?
Rupert: How long is this car ride? I feel like we’ve been trapped in this tin can for at least three hours. Has it been three hours? I’ve lost all track of time.
Theo: It’s been thirty minutes.
Rupert: THIRTY MINUTES? There is no way.
Theo: Yes, it’s been thirty minutes.
Rupert: I’m suffocating. I’m not going to make it through this.
Theo: Can you stop being so dramatic? You’re making it worse.
Rupert: No, you are, because you took my material. Now that leotards are off the table, what the hell am I supposed to talk about?
Theo: I wish you’d get your head stuck in a fucking toilet.
Rupert: Wow, okay, resorting to violence when all I’ve been is supportive.
Rolling my eyes, I set my phone down, only for it to buzz again.
Rupert: Don’t do this, don’t turn away from me, that’s what they want. They’re being silent because they want us to get angry at each other. Hold strong, my man.
“That’s not what they want,” I say, only to quickly realize that I answered him out loud, rather than through text.
Fuck, maybe I’m the one losing brain cells.
“That’s not what who wants?” Kitty asks, popping up from where she was resting her head against the window. Wasn’t she sleeping?
“Uh…nothing,” I say.
“No, I think you were talking about us,” Renley says.
She’s been silent this whole car ride except when choosing the worst times to make a comment.
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“Guinea pigs,” Rupert says, stepping in.
“Guinea pigs?” Renley asks.
“Yes. I was texting him about guinea pigs. He has a secret obsession with them, just loves to watch videos of them eating lettuce. The elation that crosses his features—honestly, watching him watch guinea pigs is a moment you will never forget.”
Stop talking, you fuck.
“Anyway, I was telling him that we should find a guinea pig farm here and see if we can feed them, you know, one of those tourist things, and he was like, ‘Oh, we should take the girls with us.’”
No, absolutely not. No more road trips with these two.
“And I was like, ‘Yeah, we should. We could all feed them kale and take pictures,’ and then that’s when he apparently got so outraged that he answered out loud rather than through text. And why were you outraged?” Rupert asks, waiting for me to respond.
He’s such a pillock.
Guinea pigs and leotards?
What the fuck is he watching on social media? And how can we reset his algorithm?
“I was, uh, outraged because the guinea pigs would prefer lettuce over kale.”
“A valid concern, so valid. My mistake, man. When we go to visit those guinea pigs, I’ll be sure we have bundles upon bundles of romaine lettuce.”
“Thank you,” I say, hating him, myself, and this entire situation.
Kitty motions her thumb toward us and says, “Those two are some real weirdos.”