November 14
Las Vegas, Nevada to Grand Canyon, Arizona
“Okay, Kevin,” Jasmin said, closing the car door. “Before we officially leave Vegas, I want to give you a once in a lifetime opportunity. Do you wanna get married?”
He pretended to give it some thought. “I’d love to, Jazz, but I can’t. I’ve always dreamed of my future wife being…you know…sane.”
“Well, your loss.” She started the car. “I can make a mean pot of curry. I’m just putting it out there so you know what you’re missing.”
“Regret is building up inside me already.” Glancing over at her, he did his usual check, and sighed his annoyance. He hated that he had to tell her the same thing every time. “Seatbelt, Jasmin.”
She strapped it on and then they were finally on the road again, heading to a new destination. They’d made a quick stop at Hoover Dam—Jasmin’s definition of quick—and it would take four hours before they reached the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
His phone rang and as soon as he saw that it was his mother, he disconnected the call.
She called at least every second day, but he’d learned not to have conversations with his family in front of Jasmin.
It always led to questions, which he didn’t necessarily want to answer.
It wasn’t just because he wanted to keep his life private; he hated seeing that look in her Jasmin eyes, that look of longing. She wanted what he had.
He sent his mom a text telling her that he would call her as soon as he reached his destination, then pushed his phone back into his pocket.
“Was that your mom again?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She kept her eyes on the road, but he didn’t have to see her face to know that the questions were coming. “What’s she like?”
A conversation about mothers in general was something he actively avoided.
It stirred up too many issues, not just for her but for him as well.
Her mother left her, and she was traveling across the country to meet her.
His mother had been there whenever he needed her and all he’d done was push her away.
And he didn’t only have his own mother; he had Momma B too.
After Perry died, he’d pulled away from her as well.
He hadn’t gone to see her once, because he simply couldn’t face her.
He had the love of two amazing women, two moms, and she had nothing.
It wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have.
“She’s like a mom,” was his swift and cold response.
“Yeah.” He noticed that fleeting brain-drain twitch and the accompanying perky smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She used sarcasm to hide her hurt and that was precisely the reason why he avoided this topic like the plague. Goddamn issues. It would actually hurt her more if he told her what his mom was like, so instead he redirected the conversation.
“What’s your dad like?” he asked.
Silence. Long, empty silence. It made him realize that her dad issues might be worse than her mom issues.
“He’s…he’s great when he’s actually around,” she answered quietly.
“When I was younger, I was his whole world. He used to read me a bedtime story every night. We’d cook together and have tea parties.
My dad’s a crazy guy. He used to prank my nannies and blame it on me.
He didn’t mind doing something completely ridiculous just to get a smile out of me.
Like, when I was in normal school, they had a mother-daughter day and he put on a dress and came with me so I wouldn’t feel left out.
The other kids teased me, but I loved him for it.
” Her voice was calm and steady yet he knew it was all a front.
“All that changed about three years ago. His business started growing so fast and he started spending more and more time away from home. In the beginning, he at least tried to make up for it when he got back, but…eventually it got to the point where he didn’t come home for months…
and I was just there…all by myself. Tutors and nannies, I had the best of them, but…
but do you know not one of them would sit and watch a movie with me…
or eat dinner with me. I guess there are just certain things in life money can’t buy.
” She remained focused on the road, not even turning to glance at him.
“And once we moved here…I lost him completely. I’ve lost count of how many times your mom has called you…
and he hasn’t called me once. Because it was such a gradual build up, I can’t pinpoint exactly when he stopped caring.
” Another brain-drain twitch. Another perky smile.
“But…whatever. I have eleven friends on Facebook now and I know you don’t think they’re…
real friends, but it’s a start. I am unstoppable!
Hey, did you know Mandy sent me a friend request and her real name is Margaret?
I would also have an alter ego if my name was Margaret. ”
Just like that her mood changed. She drained every emotion before it became a feeling and moved on. Watching her transition back to her usual effervescent self, he noted that they had yet another thing in common: emotionally, they were both fucked up!
She talked about the things that hurt her, but refused to actually feel the pain. He felt all the pain, but refused to talk about it.
She spent the next twenty minutes covering her pain with pointless stories of her trip with the Andys through Vegas until he couldn’t even see it anymore. It was obviously a practiced technique, and she was soon in fake high spirits again.
“I didn’t even know they were taking pictures until she tagged me in this photo where I looked so drunk. It’s so embarrassing, but Dean put a comment on it. He said I look cute. Weirdo.”
Funny how that name was an instant trigger now, one that had his hands curling into fists.
“I have to admit, I blushed a little when I read that.”
He was gritting his teeth, trying not to listen as she jabbered on.
“I didn’t know this, but when I went to his profile, I saw that he’s in the process of becoming a pilot.
How cool is that? At some point in the future, I’ll be able to say that I know a pilot.
I think it suits him. He’s such a mellow kind of guy, he wouldn’t panic under pressure. Like, if the plane is going down, he—”
“Jasmin,” he cut in curtly, “we’re not friends. We’re not besties. I don’t give a fuck about Dean. You can save your stories about him for Rachel.”
She was a bit surprised. He’d been listening to everything she said for the last twenty minutes without complaint and she couldn’t understand why he’d switched to asshole mode so suddenly.
“You’re such a grouch, Kevin! Like the Grinch who stole Christmas, like fucking Scrooge. So rude. You can be so nice one minute and then…You know what? I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“Ouch.” He sucked in a sharp breath and placed his hand on his chest for dramatic effect. “My heart broke a little when you said that.”
“You’re an asshole!”
On the surface, it sounded like their usual hateful/playful banter, but her voice hinted at a genuine undertone of anger.
It was the we’re not friends comment that sparked it off.
Over the last few days, they’d bonded—jokes and dances, even a little kiss.
But a bond wasn’t friendship and it seemed like she was more upset with herself for foolishly thinking it was.
He didn’t bother rectifying it because he wanted her to stew in that anger.
He didn’t like seeing her hurting because of her father and he sure as fuck didn’t want her swooning over Dean.
Her anger was directed at him. It was a feeling he invoked, and he was going to own it.
“You know what you are?” she huffed. “You’re an A-class jerk with no redeeming qualities.
You are the stealer of my thunder. You are the Steve Harvey to my Miss Philippines.
No, actually, you are the Kanye to my Taylor Swift, and that being said, I want you to know that I don’t think Kanye is a real rapper. Take a second and let that sink in.”
“That one cut me deep, Jazz.” He tried his hardest to fight a smile when he saw her lips stiffen into a tight line. He liked her angry side. It was adorable. She didn’t even know how to be mean.
“I don’t even know why I talk to you,” she snapped.
“Then don’t talk to me.” At this point he was just saying shit to piss her off more. “I would prefer that. In all honesty, I would rather listen to…to Michael Bolton for the next three hours than listen to you.”
That was maybe taking it a step too far. A hint of a smile flickered on her face and he thought about taking it back, but he was in too deep now.
“It’s funny you should say that, Kevin.” Her tone was eerie, very similar to those thrillers when the little, innocent one admits that she was the homicidal maniac all along.
“Because I just happen to have…” She glanced at him, her voice growing more sinister.
“…Michael Bolton’s Greatest Hits. And I love Michael Bolton. You wanna retract that statement?”
“Do your worst,” he taunted with defiance.
Switching on the radio, she flipped through a few songs until she found what she was looking for.
The tune of Said I Loved But I Lied floated through the speakers and he actually cringed.
She smiled and it was perfect, because it was real this time.
That smile was for him and he owned it too.
Somehow he’d managed to return the favor, the Oreo she’d given him at the laundromat.
He cheered her up despite the melancholy hanging in the air around them.
Different method, same result. And listening to Michael Bolton – with her singing along – for the remainder of the trip was a small price to pay for it.