Page 53 of You're So Vine
I have another question.
“If you don’t own a car, how’d you get here? Bus?”
“Hitchhiked. No serial killers. Obviously.”
“Okay. Wow…”
Jackson enjoys a short breather as I process what he’s told me. When I quit my job, I had a lot of savings because I’ve never liked shopping—or owning things, period. I hardly ever went out to restaurants or clubs. I didn’t travel except if I was needed at the race venues. Only flew home for Thanksgiving and Christmas because I’d be in deep shit if I didn’t.
But even if I hadn’t two coins to rub together, I’d be fine. I’m always welcome to crash at the Durant family mansion, where I have everything on tap: a comfortable bed, a well-stocked fridge, my own bathroom. I don’t have to contribute to expenses. I do but I don’t have to. I can lie around in our peaceful garden, or by our pool. I can borrow a car … usually. In other words, I’m a spoiled little bee-atch.
“You okay?” says Jackson. “I feel like you’ve still got some tightening to do on those thumb screws.”
“Thinking about blood tests.”
“Won’t ask.”
“Wouldn’t answer if you did,” I tell him.
The corner of Jackson’s mouth lifts. “Must try that some time.”
“Good luck when I’m around.”
And then, all my senses snap into high alert. We’re coming up to Flora Valley Wines. Jackson wants to see Shelby, to tell her he’s moving to LA. I’m here to see Cam, of course. To apologize. And when he’s apologized back, then we can go back to his place, and I can carry him bodily up the stairs to the bedroom. I’m small but strong, and I’ll be amped up on sexy hormones. I can totally fireman’s lift a two-twenty-pound man. Then I’ll throw him on the bed and—
Okay. Getting way ahead of myself here. We pull up in the gravel area outside the main office. I expect to see the Dodge truck … but it’s not there. The rational part of my brain knows that means Cam’s probably out on an errand, or one of the other Flora Valley peeps has commandeered it. But my heart still lurches with disappointment. In my usual impatient way, I’d figured we’d get the apologies out of the way in a couple of minutes, and then I’d throw him over my shoulder. Seems I’ll have to wait. I hate that.
Jackson turns off the engine and exhales lengthily.
“Remind me never to have a midlife crisis,” he says. “Small red convertibles are not for me.”
“Danny will happily do all the driving down the coast,” I reassure him. “He’s Louise, and you’re Thelma, remember?”
Jackson struggles out of the Mercedes with all the grace of a bear stuck in a trash can.
“Louise drove them over the cliff,” he says, straightening his shirt.
“Yeah, but Thelma got to have sex with Brad Pitt when he was cute.”
He nods. “Fair point.” Then he pauses. “Um, do you mind not telling anyone what I just told you?”
Jackson’s not referring to boning a young Brad Pitt.
“Of course,” I say. “Just because I can extract secrets doesn’t mean I want to share them. Knowledge is power, man.”
“Thanks. I think—”
“Jackson! Ava!”
Shelby’s jogging over from the house, waving cheerily. To be fair, Shelby does everything cheerily. Wish I could be more like that.
“Hey, sis.” Jackson bends down to give her a kiss.
Shelby hugs him back, and then hugs me. It makes me smile that Nate ended up with a hugger.
“Hey, do you know where Cam is?” Shelby asks me.
That question does not make me smile.
