With a complete and utter lack of enthusiasm, I slide my finger across the green square to unlock the phone, hearing a cheerful, “Good morning, sunshine” as my father greets me. I feel like growling, not answering in kind.
“Hey, Dad,” is my tepid reply.
“Could I swap you a hot cup of coffee for a quick ride to Summerton?”
I’m grouchy, and this was not how I’d hoped my day might start. My mouth falls open. Summerton is not a quick ride. Twenty minutes is not a quick ride. I bite back my knee-jerk complaint in favor of, “Has something happened to your truck?”
“Nothing extensive, I don’t think. I’m pretty sure it’s only the spark plugs. I just don’t have time to fix them this morning before I have to be at my new account.”
This brightens my mood. “You got it?”
I can hear the pride and pleasure in his voice. “Yep. Sure did. Aren’t you proud of your old man this morning?”
“I was proud of you yesterday morning, Dad, but I’m really, really happy for you.”
“I knew you would be. And I’m sorry to call and be such a bother on your day off, but I’m kind of in a pinch.”
I smother my sigh and add as much chipper to my voice as I can muster. “I’m at Tia’s. Can you give me fifteen minutes?”
There’s a hissing sound as he draws air through his teeth. “Wellll . . .”
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten then.”
“See you in ten.”
Luckily Tia lives closer to Dad than I do, so although I’m a little more rushed at ten minutes, I still have time to dig out my toothbrush from the cosmetics bag I keep under her bathroom sink. A clean mouth and brushed hair is as much as I can manage, however, before I have to leave. Last night’s makeup held up pretty well, and that’s fortunate because it’ll have to do. This is as good as it’s gonna get.
Tia’s still snoring, face buried in her pillow, when I slip quietly out her front door and hurry to my car.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’ve got a backseat full of lawn tools, a Weed eater in my trunk and I’m following Dad’s directions to get to the home for which he’s been contracted to do the landscaping. At my father’s suggestion, rather than driving all the way around the smooth, cement circle that sweeps in front of the beautiful three-story Mediterranean-style house, I simply pull up at the curb along the street to let him out.
“Wow, this place is gonna take you forever to maintain,” I tell Dad as I survey the expanse of lawn and all the elaborately planted beds.
“Thank God someone had already mowed it just before I got the contract, so I just have to do the trim work and some weeding in the beds this week.”
“Just. You say that like this is a cottage, not a mansion.”
My father turns a happy smile on me. “Lucky for me, I love what I do.”
I feel his pleasure reflect on my face. “I know you do, Dad. And I’m glad. Otherwise, this would be one seriously crappy Saturday.”
He shrugs. “Well, it would’ve been just the one. Normally, I’ll come on Tuesdays, but since he’d already had some work done, this is more of an in-between visit.” My father lowers his voice and speaks in a conspiratorial tone. “Honestly, I think he’s testing me.”
“Why would he do that?”
Dad frowns. “I don’t know. This one’s pretty shrewd, I’d say. Cold even.”
“Money does that to some people.”
“Nah. What is it they say? Having money just allows some people to be the ass**les that they were always meant to be.”
“Da-ad!” He gives me a chuckle and a cute grin when I slap his arm playfully. “Come on. I’ll help you unload.”
I put the car in park and get out to unload some of the tools and Dad’s gloves while he gets the Weed eater and the gas can out of the back. I can only imagine how long it will take me to get that oil-and-gas smell out of my car. “So, how long do you want me to wait before I come back to get you?” I ask, dusting the pieces of grass off my hands, afraid to even think about trying to clean out my backseat.
He glances around the grounds and bobbles his head back and forth. “Ehhh, how about two hours?”
“Is that all? This is an awful lot of yard, Dad.”
“It’s in good shape, though. I think I can get everything done by then.”
“Do you want me to stay and help? I mean, that’s not very long. It would probably be easier for me to help than to go all the way back to Greenfield.”
“Dressed like that?”
I glance down at my clothes from last night. My black jeans and boots, and my white, off-the-shoulder shirt. “Okay, so it’s not ideal, but I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
Dad shakes his head. “No, sweetheart, you go on home. I don’t want you out here working in the dirt and ruining your clothes. I’ll have this done in no time. I appreciate you chauffeuring me around.”
“I’m not chauffeuring you, Dad. I’m always happy to help. You know that.”
His smile is sweet and loving. “I know that, Vi. You’re a jewel.”
“Or a flower,” I tease, backing toward my car.
“Violet?” a different voice calls.
My heart stops. I don’t have to turn around to know who’s behind me, who just spoke my name. It’s likely I’ll never forget the sound of that voice.
I turn to find Jet sitting at the end of the driveway, in what looks like the little black car he followed me to Tia’s in last night. My brain is firing off in a hundred different directions—the way I look, the fact that I’m wearing last night’s clothes, the fact that my father is standing right behind me, why Jet is here, the way I look, the way I look, the way I look.
“Jet. What are you doing here?”
One side of his mouth pulls up into an unhappy smirk. “My, uh, my father lives here.”
My mouth drops open. I snap it shut as quickly as I can, but I’m certain Jet saw it.
“Your father? Lives here?”
“Yep, ’fraid so.”
“Who’s your friend?” my dad asks, moving in behind me.
My heart starts to race as I think of all the ways this simple interaction could go so terribly wrong. For one thing, Dad can never know where I met Jet. Explaining that to my father would be the most humiliating nightmare known to man. Secondly, there’s the fact that the most important thing Jet knows about me is nothing but a lie.