Chapter 31
Note to self:
Don’t forget to text Tammy in a couple of days.
After three false starts—once because Hallie decided she could not leave her four Barbies alone for a week, we finally hit the road. When Theo informed him of our Vegas detour, Mack seemed more than happy with the change of plans if his exclamation of “Vegas, baby!” was anything to go by.
I’d been relegated to the third row, surrounded by several boxes of wedding décor, a bag of Hallie’s stuffed animals, and Theo’s tent so that Abe and Hallie could have the middle row. This suited me just fine because I had a little business to take care of. I settled in for a fun game I called TAMMY WILL REGRET THIS. Using a free internet phone number (it came in handy) and pretending to be a bot, I texted a certain motel employee:
Unknown number: Hook, Line, and Sinker: Thank you for signing up for America’s premium fishing tackle monthly subscription service. Reply Y to agree to the terms and receive automated marketing txts. MsgDataRatesApply. STOP to stop.
I tapped my fingers on the seatback in front of me, waiting for a reply. Karen’s head popped up from her spot between Hallie and Abe, two people she had decided were worthy of her affection. Me, though? Oh, no. She pierced me with dark, angry eyes and growled.
“Why do you hate me?” I whispered.
Karen’s reply was to stick her nose in the air and disappear. My phone buzzed.
Tammy: I never signed up for any service
Unknown number: Hook, Line, and Sinker: You are now subscribed. Congrats! Your first tackle box will ship out in 5–7 business days. Each box always includes premium live bait such as nightcrawlers, waxworms, or maggots, plus a surprise to make your fishing experience more enjoyable. All shipped directly to you. To upgrade your box or see photos, please see our website. Happy fishing. Reply STOP at any time to opt out. Reply HELP for help.
Tammy: omg stop
Unknown number: Hook, Line, and Sinker: You are now subscribed. Congrats! Your first tackle box will ship out in 5–7 business days. Each box always includes premium live bait such as nightcrawlers, waxworms, or maggots, plus a surprise to make your fishing experience more enjoyable. All shipped directly to you. To upgrade your box or see photos, please see our website. Happy fishing. Reply STOP at any time to opt out. Reply HELP for help.
Tammy: STOP STOP STOP
I didn’t reply. At least not yet. Now was the time to let her relax and think she’d won before crushing her spirit in a day or two. Grinning, I set my phone down and cracked my knuckles like any genius mastermind. I was good. I was really good.
Of course, I’d had a lot of years of practice.
It started in the second grade when, while at recess, I saw Josh Metcalf push Melody Sinclair off the swings. Josh had always been a bully and it had only gotten worse as he got older and bigger. He seemed to especially relish picking on Melody. I liked Melody. She was a little shy, but real smart.
I don’t know if it was stupidity, pure anger, or growing up with three big brothers, but I marched right over, balled my fist, and socked Josh right in the eye.
He’d bawled like a baby, and I got suspended for two days. Mom had caused such a scene at the school, demanding to talk to the superintendent and all, that Dad had to leave work in the middle of the day to intervene. But I hadn’t budged, even when the principal agreed to walk back the suspension if I showed some remorse.
I refused to apologize. It wasn’t fair when people got away with doing the wrong thing.
That evening, Dad had sat me down and explained that hitting someone out of anger was never the way to solve a problem.
“But he pushed her first,” I’d said.
“Things have a way of coming back around.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Just means that when someone does bad things, it might take some time, but it comes back to them. You have to be patient. They’ll get what’s coming to them.”
Looking back, I get that he was talking about karma but eight-year-old me understood it differently. I had to be patient and I had to be smarter about how I put a person in their place.
And thus, a legend was born.
I was always careful about who my intended victim was. A person had to earn a spot by doing something particularly egregious. Well, unless your name was Peter Stone, then you were permanently on my radar. While the pranks were fun, and trust me, they were, I had two big rules. One, I never did anything that couldn’t be reversed or easily fixed, and two, I never told anyone outright what I did. I’d learned, long ago, the best course of action was to deny, deny, deny and give others the chance of plausible deniability.
Satisfied I’d used my powers for good this day, I slipped in my ear pods and turned on some music and tried to doze off.
Until the reality of traveling with a kid set in.
First, there were the numerous bathroom breaks. As the only woman, guess who got to spend a lot of time in a public restroom begging a four-year-old wearing a princess tiara and a velvet dress in August to, “Please, please, please just go to the bathroom?”
Spoiler: me.
Second, the persistent demand for snacks. Goldfish crackers. Applesauce pouches. Cheese sticks. Water. And more water. And more water. Which, in hindsight, was probably the reason for the bathroom breaks.
Third, the endless questions.
“Are we there yet?” No, we’ve only been driving for half an hour.
“Can I have a puppy?” Maybe.
“Are you still my boyfriend, Teo?” Sure.
“Are we there yet?” No, we’ve only been driving for forty-five minutes.
“Are you still Auntie Ali’s boyfriend?” Yup.
“Will someone read me a story?” Mack took one for the team.
“I wish I lived in a castle. Do you want to live in a castle?” Put me in the dungeon, as long as it’s soundproof.
“Are we there yet?” No, Hallie. Just no.
And lastly, sometime after crossing into Utah, “I don’t feel so good.”
Which wasn’t exactly a question, but close enough. Like the dummies we all were, we didn’t take her seriously until fifteen minutes later.
“Daddy,” Hallie said in a tiny voice, “my stomach feels wobbly.”
In the few seconds it took for any of us to register what she’d said, Hallie blew the motherload of puke. When it was all over, Hallie was crying, Abe was holding a handful of vomit, and I was yelling at Theo to pull over.
That’s how we found ourselves on the roadside of a desolate patch of I-70 unpacking everything in the backseat to search for a change of clothes for Hallie, a shirt for Abe, and something to mop up the mess with. Our attempt to clean up Hallie involved nine fast-food restaurant napkins, three bottles of water, and two towels all while hovering around her to block her from possible passing cars.
The inside of the car was an even bigger challenge.
“Isn’t it easier to burn the car down and get a new one?” I asked, staring at the carnage.
Theo grunted. “I’m considering it.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Even with the clean shirt, Abe looked like a soldier returning home from a war where he had seen some things. “I had no idea.”
Mack moseyed over, Karen trailing at his feet. “Welcome to fatherhood.”
“Thanks,” Abe muttered. He marched forth to drag the car seat to the side of the road. Using our limited supplies, we went to work on both the car and the seat.
An hour later, exhausted and damp, Abe, Hallie, and Mack climbed into the car while Theo and I quickly repacked the back of the SUV.
“How did all this fit in here?” I asked, shoving another of Mom’s boxes in.
“I don’t know.” Theo took off his cap and swiped at his forehead. “But I know it does.”
I crammed the last thing, a duffel bag, in, then spent the next five minutes pushing and shoving, grunting and cursing to get it situated. “There. All done.”
Relieved, I took a step back and put my hands on my hips.
“Perfect,” Theo said.
That was when the trunk spewed out the duffel bag and two of Mom’s boxes at my feet.
I groaned. “Someone owes me something after this.”
Theo grabbed the bag and I bent to pick up a box. The lid on the one with CANDLES written across the top had come open. I peered inside and gasped. Slowly, I picked up one of the candles and stared at it in a combination of wonder and horror.
“What is that?” Theo asked.
Startled, I jumped and dropped the candle. It lay in the grass on the side of the road. I couldn’t stop staring at it. Theo moved beside me. He glanced down and then did a double take.
“It’s the…the,” I paused and swallowed back the laughter fighting its way to the surface, “the c-candles my mom made for the wedding. For the centerpieces.”
He crouched and picked it up. Except there wasn’t a good way for him to hold it. His hands on that candle looked downright indecent. “Are they supposed to look like this?”
“Mom says they’re called r-rolling hills.”
Wide-eyed, Theo tossed the candle into the box like it was on fire. At his horrified expression, I exploded in laughter, the kind that made it impossible to speak. Or possibly remain upright. Theo watched me, amusement dancing in his eyes before he too began to laugh.
My heart lurched at the sound and those squinty eyes and that dimple. Somehow my forehead landed on his chest and his arms came around me. For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it, being surrounded by him, the way his laughter rumbled in his chest, and how he smelled of citrus and laundry soap.
I tipped my head to study him, my breath catching. He had always been handsome, but like this, he took my breath away. His eyes found mine and held them. His laughter morphed into a slow, devastating smile. Carefully, he brushed a piece of my hair from my face, his fingers tickling my cheek and leaving tingles in their wake.
“You’re flirting again,” I whispered. “You should really stop doing that.”
He leaned down enough to bring his mouth close to my ear. “Maybe I don’t want to stop.”
I sucked in a breath, my brain screeching to a halt. What did that mean?
“You two okay?” Abe called from inside the car.
With a gasp, I jumped back and turned away, my heart thudding like I’d just played the meanest, dirtiest, best game of soccer ever.
“Yep, we’re done,” Theo called out. He turned to me. “Go ahead. I’ll finish this.”
I watched him for a beat before climbing back into the car, confused, my skin tingling, and wishing we hadn’t been interrupted.