Her take on money is fascinating to me: I’ve been working a year longer than she has, but I’ve never even considered doing what I want with what I earn. “Where do you work?” I ask.
“Nike.”
Well, at least the apparel makes sense.
“It’s just like…like it’s not my fault she drinks away most of her paycheck, you know? I’m not the cause of her dissatisfaction with how her life has gone, and I hate when she makes me out to be the problem.”
Alcoholism aside, that does sound familiar.
Though why she’s spilling her guts like this, I’m not sure. “I know what you mean,” I say.
We take the left at the YMCA that will lead us past the middle school to the richer part of town. Still no clue where we’re going, but this doesn’t seem like the time to ask.
She takes another deep puff of her cigarette, which is almost down to the orange part. “She’s always yelling at me, and then she wonders why I won’t ‘spend any time’ with her. I can’t even tell you how ready I am to graduate and get the hell outta here.”
“Where are you going?”
Now her whole face lights up. “Ness and I are both headed to UGA. We have to live in the dorms freshman year, but we’re getting our own apartment next summer. I can’t even wait, Rico.”
That…does something to me. And deep down, I know the must be nice thing doesn’t work here—Jessica doesn’t come from any more money than I do. There’s no younger sibling for her to worry about, but that aside, our situations are virtually the same.
Space Camp was one thing, but being around Jess makes me wonder when I stopped dreaming.
Next thing I know, we’re turning into Wellington on the River, and I have an intense flashback of being in fifth grade and new to the area. This subdivision was under construction, and me, Mama, and Jax (who was a toddler at the time) would drive through and explore the houses as they were still being built. Mama would relay to me what furniture she would put where, and I would close my eyes and imagine it.
Back then, I actually believed there was a chance we’d eventually live in a massive house like the ones we’re passing.
Now, though?
I wipe my eyes quick before Jessica can see me crying.
We pull into the driveway of a gorgeous cream-colored brick house. Jessica, as she just insisted I call her, takes off the shower cap and sweatshirt before using the visor mirror to reapply her lip gloss. She pulls a little bottle of perfume out of her purse and spritzes a little on each wrist, and then rubs it behind her ears. “Do I smell like smoke?” she asks, sticking her swan neck in my face.
I sniff. She smells like magic. Mermaid sweat with a splash of bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. It’s unfair, really. “You smell great.”
“Good.”
We get out, and when we reach the front door, she isolates a key on her ring and slips it into the dead bolt. When she pushes the door open, I almost pass out.
This house is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
The entryway has a soaring ceiling, adorned with what I’m guessing is a crystal chandelier, based on the prisms that appear when light hits the delicate pieces. The hardwood floors are spotless, the open room to the right features a huge fireplace and a stunning grand piano, and there’s jazz music floating through the air like it’s leaking from the walls.
Wherever we are, I instantly feel unworthy of being here.
Whose house is this, and why does Jess have a key?
A vaguely familiar brown-skinned girl appears at the top of the staircase. “Oh joy,” she says, wrinkling her nose at Jess. “It’s you.”
“Hi, Sincere! You look pretty today!”
“Whatever.” The girl rolls her eyes and disappears.
“Sincere’s not a huge fan of my whiteness,” Jess says. “Coat?” I pass it to her, and she deposits it into a closet. “Follow me.”
We walk down a short hallway into a spotless kitchen. There’s a beautiful black woman standing over the sink washing what look like collard greens.
“Hey, Mama,” Jess says, going over and kissing the woman on the cheek.
The woman smiles. “Hey, baby girl!”
Then, “Jessie!” comes a thunderclap voice from behind us. I look over my shoulder as a tall, dark-skinned man steps into the room with his arms spread. “Get over here and gimme my hug, girl!”
As she complies, Jess says, “Parents, this is my good friend, Rico.”
Good friend?
“Oh ho! Surname Danger, correct? We’ve heard about you, Miss Rico.” The man spreads his arms in my direction, and I’m drawn into them by some strange gravity. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance! You’re more stunning than Alexander described! I’m Barry, and that’s Cresida,” he goes on. “You make yourself at home, all right?”
This is getting weird, but I force a smile. “Thank you.”
“Are the guys downstairs?” Jess asks.
Cresida snorts. “Where else would they be?”
“I’ll make sure he comes up to say good night,” Jess says.
Barry gives Jess another squeeze. “Don’t know what we’d do without ya, kid. You ladies have a nice evening, and tell those numbskulls we’ll order some pizzas.”
“Will do.” Jess grabs my hand and pulls me toward a closed door.
“It was nice to meet you!” I call out over my shoulder.
As we descend the stairs, I’m more confused than ever. “Jess, sorry if this seems like a dumb question, but who are those people?”
She laughs. “If you really don’t know, you’ll figure it out in about three seconds.”
And she’s right. Because as we step into the open space of the basement, who’s on the couch watching the largest, sharpest, highest-definition TV I’ve ever seen but *Alexander* Macklin and Finesse Montgomery.
Now I feel like a dumbass.
Doesn’t last long: when Mack-Daddy Zan sees me, his mouth drops and he shoots to his feet. Looks at Finesse. “Did you know—?”
“Nope.”
Focus shifts to Jessica, who blows him a kiss before she starts making goo-goo eyes at Finesse.
It’s a few looooooong seconds before Zan finally turns his attention to me, but when he does? “RICO!” And he rushes over and scoops me up in what I can only describe as The Hug. Snatches the breath right out of me.