It’s what I both love(d) and hate(d) about her. Her independence. Every time I brushed up against it, I was reminded of my dependence. Because everything she said was true. My options are endless, even without Dad’s money. I’ve just been scared to face them.
Which means Rico Danger and I have something in common. Because no matter what she says or what kind of *responsibility* she tries to hide behind, she also has more options than she wants to admit and is afraid to step out too.
She also has no idea what she wants. We’re two peas in a snuggly little pod, her and me.
At least we were….
Anyway, guess it’s time to make some of those *choices* she and I talked about.
First up: what to do with this ticket.
I graduate from high school.
School, work, home becomes work, work, home because I get a second job at Belle’s Basics.
Ness and Jess move to Athens a week and a half before my birthday, but I don’t go to their farewell party because I’ve successfully avoided Zan-the-Man for a month and eleven days. The happy lovebirds stop by the Gas ’n’ Go on their way out, thankfully. I keep my composure, but I’m sad to see them go.
I take over the payments for a larger storage unit, and Mama manages to get everything moved before apartment management can toss it all on the street. We don’t wind up in a shelter, thanks to Señora Alvarez, who insists that we move in with her. (Mama agreed.)
Time rolls.
I call out of both jobs on the lotto ticket redemption deadline day and spend the entire thing curled up in bed, mulling over stuff I usually avoid thinking about. As I look around the bedroom I share with Mama and Jax, there’s a part of me that regrets not taking the ticket from Zan. Where would we be now if I had? Certainly not living on the charity of a neighbor, who knows how many tens (hundreds?) of thousands of dollars in debt. Probably in a nice new house, not too big. Not too small. Nice backyard. Maybe a swing set for Jax. Maybe a pool if we’d splurged.
Things that’ll never be.
On my eighteenth birthday, I have to be at the Gas ’n’ Go at six in the morning, and when I get off, I go straight to Belle’s Basics. Fourteen-hour workday. I maybe lied to Mama about what time I had to be in so she and Jax wouldn’t wake up early to make me breakfast.
Goal is to forget it’s my birthday at all.
And it’s working for the most part. A few hours into my shift, I’ve restocked the cooler and aligned all the labels on the cold beverages; I’ve rearranged the candy bar section so that the Mars products are on the left and the Hershey on the right; I’ve shifted the chips in the chip endcap around so they make a rainbow from top to bottom; I’ve moved the chewing gum so the center six read, 5 EXTRA ECLIPSE ORBIT JUICY FRUIT TRIDENT.
I’m in the middle of cleaning the bathrooms (though I refuse to refill the Macklin toilet paper and moist towelette dispensers) when there’s a knock on the door and Mr. Zoughbi sticks his head in.
“Rico Danger.”
But why does he look mad? “Hi, Mr. Z.”
“I am very upset with you, young lady.”
Uhhh…“Come again, sir?”
“Why did you not tell me today is your birthday?”
Oh.
“And you are here cleaning toilets? No, no. This will not do.” He shakes his finger at me.
“Sorry, sir.” (What else can I say?)
“You come out this instant,” he says. “There is a visitor for you, and you must leave at once.”
A visitor? Couldn’t be Zan…Mr. Z would’ve definitely said his name.
Maybe it’s Mama? I don’t think Mr. Z knows what she looks like, so it could totally be her. I anticipated getting reamed out this evening, but if she’s here to see me now, she’s definitely late to work. Which means she’ll be double pissed.
I’d really rather scrub the toilet.
“You know, I’m almost finished in—”
“Out! This instant! You are taking the day off! With pay!”
I sigh and drop the scrub brush in the bucket. Peel off my rubber gloves and hang my head as I exit the bathroom. This is going to be tortur—
“Ricoooooo!”
My head lifts. “Mr. Dover?”
“In the flesh! Happy birthday, honey!” He presses something into my palm and closes my fingers around it.
I force a smile. “Thanks—”
Wait…
“How’d you know it’s my birthday?”
His whole face lights up. “We got a lot to talk about, kid. Your wonderful boss says you’re free to go, right? Care to join me for breakfast?”
What the hell? “Umm…sure?”
“Flying Biscuit okay?”
I stare at the green pocket square in his suit jacket. “I guess…”
“Great! Grab your stuff and let’s roll. I’ll meet you outside.”
“Okay.”
“Blue Mercedes!” The door chimes as he walks out.
For a minute I just stand there. Trying to…well, I don’t know. I go to untie my apron, and the thing in my hand crinkles.
I open my palm to see what it is.
And I smile for the first time all morning.
Of course.
It’s a fifty-dollar bill.
* * *
—
During the seven-minute drive over, Mr. Dover won’t stop grinning. It freaks me out a little.
Once we’re inside and seated, he says, “Order whatever you like, but I suggest the shrimp and grits. They’re to die for.” Like us being at breakfast together is the most natural thing on earth.
What is happening?
I’ve never been inside this restaurant before, and the server appears before I get a chance to look at the other food options, so I take his advice. As she takes my menu and walks away, Mr. Dover sips his coffee. I can’t help but watch his every move.
“So,” he says, setting the cup down. “Did you catch me on television the other night?”
“You were on television?”
“You mean you missed it? Awww, come on, Rico! A guy only gets one TV debut!”
“Sorry.”
He laughs.
“Makes sense, though. If you’d seen me on TV, you’d probably guess why we’re sitting here.”