Chapter 8 #2
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CASSIA
“If that bitch doesn’t shut up, I’m going to stab the screen with my . . . something. I can’t find anything in here anymore!” Erisa complained. The British voice I’d chosen for my SUV’s navigation reminded us to slow down for the upcoming turn.
As Erisa bent forward to sift through the stuff at her feet, I said, “That’s because you packed like we were going to explore the wilds of Alaska instead of taking a six-hour road trip on a paved highway!”
“Road snacks are a necessity,” she shot back.
“I agree, but then you bought more every time we stopped.”
And we’d stopped at least a dozen times–once even on the side of the highway.
I hadn’t taken Ivy on a trip since she’d potty trained.
Since she could mostly handle it on her own, I hadn’t really paid attention to just how often she went.
But with Erisa stuffing her with junk food and sugary drinks, Ivy’s bladder was working overtime.
Most of the time we made it to the next small town, but once, when she was desperate, we pulled over and she had her first experience of peeing outdoors.
The concept was completely foreign to her, but Erisa and I didn’t have a problem with it.
We’d been all over the world with Mom and Dad, and more often than not, we stayed in refugee camps rather than hotels with indoor plumbing.
It was no problem for my sisters and me to relieve ourselves out in the open because we’d been in far worse places and had not just survived them, but thrived in them.
Ivy had never experienced a life that didn’t include central air and flushing toilets.
If I had my way, she never would. I appreciated my parents’ work, and I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anything–I knew that my family had helped countless children in the same situation my brother and I were in when Mom and Dad found us–but that didn’t mean I wanted Ivy exposed to the things we’d overcome.
Ivy squealed as a motorcycle sped past, and I smiled, realizing that soon she’d experience the things she loved on screen in real life.
I, too, had fallen prey to Iliana’s habit of “online stalking”–though she still insisted it was research.
I’d visited website after website to find information about Memphis and his bandmates, who were all his family.
I’d gone down a rabbit hole, filling a spiral notebook with notes on friends and relatives mentioned ages ago when the television series aired, and again when the Rojo Kings took the music world by storm.
I was shocked to find article after article about Jamie Forrester, who had gone by Jamie Grayson or Jamie Evans in the past. Numerous magazines and blogs praised her for her work restoring cars, trucks, and motorcycles.
Apparently, Memphis’s mom was an idol in a restoration world dominated by men.
I turned down the road the navigation system instructed me to and slowed down because I knew the houses for quite a distance were all owned by Forresters.
“That’s the biker clubhouse,” Erisa pointed out, proving she’d done her own internet stalking, probably with help from Iliana.
We weren’t sure who lived in each house, but I was impressed by their size, even if they weren’t opulent. The land was outside city limits and surrounded by open fields, yet the yards were well-manicured and still a little green despite the approaching winter.
I didn’t need to check my phone for parking details. Memphis had sent me detailed instructions and even a video of him pulling into the drive that led to his home, showing exactly where he wanted me to park.
As soon as I turned down the gravel drive, I glanced in my rearview mirror.
Iliana followed close behind, and behind her was the moving truck carrying the remnants of our old life.
Since I was traveling with Ivy in the car, it was decided that I would need at least one of my sisters with me to help take care of the toddler.
Iliana and Erisa took turns driving Erisa’s SUV to Rojo. Iliana would pick hers up and drive it back after she flew home to take her exams next month. Until then, they’d share Erisa’s and use mine if they needed to. That seemed like the most reasonable option when we were making plans to move.
I pulled into the exact spot Memphis had used in the video, then turned to smile at Ivy. She was strapped into her booster seat, quietly taking in the scenery.
“What do you think, Ivy-Bug? Excited to see our new house?” I asked.
She looked uncertain until a dog sprinted out of the half-open garage door toward us. Ivy let out a high-pitched squeal of pure delight.
“I wonder if he’s friendly,” Erisa said cautiously.
“If his tail wags any harder, he’s going to achieve liftoff,” I commented as I watched the animal dart between my SUV and Erisa’s. “Memphis mentioned there were always kids around, so I don’t think he’d keep a mean dog.”
“I guess we’re about to see,” I said as Iliana stepped down out of Erisa’s SUV.
The dog stopped in front of her with his tail going a mile a minute and then flopped onto his back.
Iliana laughed as she dropped her purse and backpack to the pavement and squatted down to give the dog’s belly a two-handed scratch.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, my voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“He’s definitely a vicious guard dog. Terrifying. ”
“Oh, he’s a schmoopie!” Erisa said as she threw her door open to join Iliana.
And then I heard it–the sound of voices blended in perfect harmony, backed by guitars and drums.
“Can you believe we’re about to move in with a rockstar?” Erisa whispered when she heard it.
“I’m trying very hard to ignore that part and focus on the fact that he wants to be a father to Ivy,” I reminded her gently.
“Right. My bad,” she said as she shook her head as if clearing a fog. “I forgot about that when I suddenly realized that there’s a group of men through that door that I’ve been drooling over for years.”
“Don’t drool. It will embarrass both of us, especially since we’re going to be seeing them every day now.”
“No drool. Got it,” Erisa gave me a mock salute before she hopped out and hurried over to the dog, who was still basking in Iliana’s undivided attention.
I got out and then climbed into the back to get Ivy unlatched.
I pulled her close for a hug, and she wiggled in my arms before she straightened out for a big stretch.
When she sighed and settled onto my hip, I kissed her cheek and stepped out onto the concrete.
The parking area was huge. It was more like a private lot than the driveway most people had that was just a lane that led into their garage.
Ivy squirmed to get down and greet the dog she could hear Erisa and Iliana talking to on the other side of the car.
I walked toward the front of my SUV and stopped dead in my tracks when the music came to an abrupt end and the garage door started rising. As soon as the space was high enough, Memphis ducked under the moving door. As he stood up, a brilliant smile lit his face.
“Welcome home, ladies!”