“It’s nothing,” Vanessa says.
Shayla just laughs.
“Sounds like something to me,” her dad says.
“They’re probably getting at the fact that I didn’t exactly seem like the type you’d take home to meet the parents when we met.”
Vanessa turns to me, staring hard as though telling me to shut up.
“What? They might as well know the truth. I think everyone here is at least somewhat familiar with my reputation.” I turn to her mother, who smirks and raises one eyebrow in acknowledgment.
“It was a swimsuit themed party, and I was escorting two of the bikini-clad models back to the party after they helped me out with a few things.”
“What kind of things?” Lamar asks, his brow already lowered in disapproval.
“Teaching me how to play gin rummy.”
There’s a silence that follows that. Jim is the first to laugh, which gets everyone else going. It lasts longer than it should, but that’s usually the case with things that are funny for no good reason.
“Okay, I suppose not knowing how to play gin rummy is a forgivable offense,” her dad says with a final chuckle.
“So, that’s our story. I’m curious to know about everyone else’s. How did you and Vanessa’s mom meet?”
He grins and looks across the table at Grace. “It took a lot of work.”
Vanessa’s mother gives a surprisingly coy smile. “To be fair, you did try and catch me when I was finishing my master’s degree. Back then, I didn’t have time for a man, or so I thought.”
“And I was in med school, but I didn’t let that stop me. No, the moment I saw her at that coffee shop near campus, I knew she was the one.”
I sit back and listen, that surreal feeling hitting me once again. I can’t help but think about my mother and “father.” How did they meet? I’m sure it wasn’t some game of pursuit on his part. Then again, who knows? Maybe he chased her right up to the point he got what he wanted out of it, bailing as soon as the words “I’m pregnant” left her lips.
I force the bitterness back down and smile at the cute story. “And you, Shayla? How did you and Jim meet?”
Once again, the table goes quiet. This time I don’t sense laughter coming in on the heels of it.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “You don’t have to—”
“No,” Shayla says, sitting up straighter and giving me a smile. “It’s okay.”
She turns to her husband, and I don’t know what it is, but with that look alone, I get it, how the two of them ended up together. Jim reaches out to cover her hands, now anxiously twisted together, with his huge paw. That seems to relax her, and she flashes him a grateful smile.
“Jimmy, he…he caught me at a bad time in my life. I, um…he worked at the suicide hotline I called one night.” She says the last part quickly, in one exhaled breath like a valve releasing steam. Afterward, she seems to relax, as though relieved that it’s out in the open.
Jim releases her hands and brings his up around the side of her head to gently pull her in and kiss her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles. She opens them again and sighs, then tugs at the edges of her long-sleeves, almost like an unconscious tic. It’s not quick enough for me to miss the faded scar on her wrist that I didn’t notice before then.
I recall Vanessa telling me about what happened with her blogging. She wasn’t specific on the details, but now I get it.
“Jim was,” she turns to him with an even broader smile. “…my rock. He still is. He was just…there for me.”
“My brother committed suicide,” he explains to me. “That’s how I got started working there. I think my story hit home with her.”
“It did,” Shayla agrees. “Eventually, I got him to meet me.”
“Totally against the rules,” Jim says, grinning at me. “But no regrets. Obviously. I’m still amazed she wants a big old hairy bastard like me.”
She laughs and slinks her arms around his trunk-like bicep. “To be fair, we were just friends for a long time, long enough for me to come to my senses. Now, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
He twists his head to lean down and kiss her, and it would be almost sickeningly sweet if the story wasn’t so…poignant.
“Speaking of which,” Shayla says, perking up and turning her attention back to the table. “You know Jim and I have been trying for a while, and I suppose now is as good a time as any to announce—”
“Oh, my God!” Vanessa shouts, beating her to the punch.
“Can a girl at least get the words out?” Shayla says, giving her an exasperated smile. “Yes, we’re going to have a baby.”
I sit back and watch as the rest of the family jumps out of their seats to hug and congratulate them. The excitement is contagious, and I feel the family love fill my veins. I can’t deny that it’s laced with that lingering sting of bitterness. This is the closest I’ve ever felt to a normal, happy home, one where parents have always been there for their kids. I’m sure the announcement that my own mother was pregnant—not that she had parents to announce it to, being that they’d both died in a car crash before I was born—wasn’t met with anything like this sort of elation.
Now, I’m glad more than ever that I came. I’m not just learning more about Vanessa—I’m learning more about myself.
Specifically what I’ve missed out on.
Also, what I want more than ever.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dylan
“I should have warned you to break them in beforehand,” Vanessa says as she stares down at the hiking boots I’ve bought in preparation for today’s hike. “A pair of sneakers would have been just fine.”
“They’re not too bad,” I say, walking around the suite of the hotel we’re staying at. They’re a bit stiff, but hopefully, that will work itself out. “Besides, there’s no way my sneakers are going for a trek through dirt and mud. I have to have some pride in my collection. It’s worth a fortune.”
Vanessa laughs and shakes her head.
Whatever shoes I have on, there’s no way I’m missing out on joining her and her dad as they try out his new birthday present from last night. I want to experience every ounce of normal family life, sucking it up like nectar if only to relive my own vicariously through Vanessa’s.
“At any rate, you’ll definitely be the hottest guy on the trail,” she says with a smirk as she scans me up and down.
“Then I’ve done my job,” I say with a grin as I look at myself in the nearby mirror. Having never been “hiking” or “nature walking” in my life, I had to improvise on how to dress. I’m used to a t-shirt and jeans, a button-up shirt and slacks, and, these days, a tuxedo— maybe the occasional pair of swim trunks. Everything outside that realm is foreign to me. The plaid shirt and cargo pants make me feel like I’m playing a role. At least that part is nothing new to me; I’ve been playing one most of my life.
“Alright, let’s go. We want to get there before the hikers scare off all the wildlife. Dad is practically jonesing to test out this lens.”
“So you said it was for getting close-up shots?” I ask as I lead her out of the suite to the elevators.
“Yep. This lens is amazing. You can see the eyes of a fly with it, catching all the tiny details.”
“Hmm.”
At the elevator, she turns to me with a patronizing smirk. “You could try to sound a little more enthusiastic.”
I laugh. “Nonsense, I find this fascinating. Pictures of a fly’s eye. Hell, I may ask for the same thing for my birthday.”
She slaps my arm and laughs. “We all have our own thing. You have your sneaker collection, which I’m sure you’ve been teased about, no?”
“True,” I say, tilting my head. “So…is this what you’re into? Taking pictures of insects?”
The doors open, and we step in. “It’s how I got my start. Going hiking with Dad. I’m more like him. My mom is more like my sister. I’d pass on their shopping trips, and they were bo
th happy to leave me to go traipsing through the woods with Dad.”
“Interesting.”
“When you see it, you’ll get it. There’s nothing like it in New York City and, even though I don’t know Detroit, I’m sure the same is true there. The Pacific Northwest is its own thing. You have to experience it to understand.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“No, you’ll see for yourself,” she says, coming in closer to press into my front side, looking up at me with a grin.
* * *
Vanessa’s Dad is surprisingly non-talkative on the ride in. The station on the radio is playing oldies music. I’m sitting in the front seat and was expecting the third degree, especially considering who I am. Other than a few general questions, it was pretty sedate, all the better to allow me to sit back and enjoy the scenery to the sounds of Motown.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much green in my life. It’s definitely something different. When Lamar parks, I step out of the passenger side to get my first glimpse of “the woods.” Even though we have yet to enter, I can already see Vanessa was right. There is nothing like this in either New York or Detroit.
The two of them look so alike with their cameras hanging around their necks and dark tops and jeans that it’s almost a father-daughter caricature.
“So how does it feel knowing you’re going to be a grandad?” I say as I follow them to the start of the trail.
“Ecstatic,” he says with a bemused smile. “Still basking in it.”
I feel a slight twinge that’s part envy, part resentment at the idea that there’s no dad—or mom, for that matter—out there hoping I’ll continue the family line.
“Well, it should make Christmas this year more fun, I suppose. She’s due in October, right? I don’t have much experience with babies, but that should at least make shopping easier.” Is this what people talk about with their families? My small talk has never dealt with kids and pregnancies or anything even remotely related to the subject of “family.”
The way Vanessa bites back a smile tells me I’m maybe heading down the wrong path.
Lamar turns to me with a look on his face that’s slightly exasperated but somehow patient as well. “Listen, son, I get that you want to endear yourself to the old man. But the best thing you can do to win me over is be as quiet as possible.”
“Got it,” I say, snapping my mouth shut. So her father is just the quiet type, after all?
“That also means phones off. Noise scares away the wildlife,” Vanessa explains, with an amused grin. She rests a sympathetic hand on my arm. “It’s no fun having new toys if you can’t play with them. I’m sure Dad would like to be able to snap a photo of something without us humans chasing it off ahead of time.”
So that’s it.
I turn off my phone, which is easy enough. The rest of it takes a bit more adjusting. I’m not the “silence is golden” type. Maybe because I’ve spent my life in places and situations where sudden silence only spells danger. Then again, with my extroverted personality, it’s also a foreign concept for me.
I follow them until we’re lost in nothing but damp trees and moss and dirt. I might as well be on an alien planet. It’s definitely fascinating, but after about half an hour, my eyes focus on the two people with me, who are even more interesting.
The two of them have barely spoken a word beyond whispered announcements to point something out. They seem to operate as perfectly in sync with one another as pair of silent dancers, reading each other’s minds, getting quietly excited over the same things, instinctively knowing what the other is doing or planning.
She’s a daddy’s girl.
I smirk to myself at that, for once not attempting to compare it to my own past.
Two hours later, I, for one, have had my fill of bugs and frogs and leaves and forest flowers. When the asphalt of the road beyond the parking lot comes back into view, I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I’ve had enough silence, thank you very much.
“You can talk now,” Vanessa says with a laugh.
“It wasn’t so bad.”
She laughs again. “Come on, it was obviously pure torture for you not to open that mouth of yours, even if it wasn’t to say something smart or cocky.”
“Frankly, my daughter should have warned you what it would be like.” Lamar gives her a mildly scolding look.
“Nonsense, it was…fun.”
They both laugh now.
“Alright, Dad, now you actually have to have a conversation with him on the ride back. It’s only fair.”
I’m pretty sure he’s relieved when Vanessa and I carry most of that burden on the way back.
“So that’s how you got your start in photography?” I ask, twisting around to face Vanessa.
“Yeah. I was always kind of a tomboy, so dad was happy to let me tag along…when I was old enough.” She laughs. “I had to get the same spiel about being quiet. Much easier for a twelve-year-old than a six-year-old.
“Then, when Shayla started getting into fashion, I transitioned for her sake. It was definitely a different vibe. I mean, plants don’t complain about you getting their wrong side or making them look too fat or anything like that. They just…are. People are more difficult. But I enjoyed the challenge, and she was definitely a gentle transition into that field. Still one of the easiest human subjects I’ve had to work with.”
“Speaking of challenges, when are you going to finally make that move we talked about on the island?”
“What’s this now?” Lamar asks, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Dylan seems to think I’m wasting my talents in fashion photography.”
“I didn’t say that. I just think that since you want to be a photojournalist, you should dive in. I can certainly attest to the fact that you know how to bring out the realness in people, get them to drop the facade.” I turn to her dad. “Wait until you see the photos she took of me during the Ideal Gentlemen magazine shoot.”
I watch both of them smile with pleasure at that bit of flattery.
“Stop,” she says, turning to look out the window with embarrassment.
“Why? It’s true. You’re good at what you do, no need to be humble about it. Own your sh—” I stop before sticking my foot in it.
Lamar just laughs. “Go on and say it. Own your shit. I’ve been saying this to her forever.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being ganged upon?”
“If it helps you make the move then so be it,” Lamar says.
I sit back and smile to myself.
It’s only thirty minutes later, when Marvin Gaye comes on singing “I Heard it Through The Grapevine” that I realize I haven’t even turned my phone back on. That’s definitely a first; it’s my lifeline, and I usually take the first opportunity I have to bring it back to life after being forced to silence it.
I’m not surprised when the first bubble of text I see filling my screen is from Gene. I am slightly surprised to see what it says:
Dylan, please tell me you aren’t with Vanessa Paige right now. Call me!!
Chapter Thirty-Two
Vanessa
I watch Dylan’s expression change almost instantly, and I perk up in the back seat.
“What is it?”
“It’s Gene,” he mutters, before his eyes shoot up to me. “Just business. It can wait.”
I watch him, reading something in those eyes that tells me this is more than “just business.” The initial confusion and mild panic I saw on his face smoothed out a little too quickly.
“If you need to take care of some business, you go right ahead,” my dad says, completely oblivious. “Unless it’s some top secret stuff you can’t discuss in front of us.”
“It’s best left for later,” Dylan says.
“Call him,” I insist, mostly wanting to satisfy my own curiosity. I have no idea what the text message he got said, but I have a feeling it’s about me.
I think back to our activities on Isla Esc
apar, and a rush of panic sets in. I mean, we didn’t do anything that scandalous in public view. Like Dylan said, we were both wearing just as much as any person at the beach would be wearing. Still, who knows how people can twist things to fit their narrative, especially when it comes to Dylan Sexton.
“Is it something from the resort? Is that why—?“
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Call him,” I urge.
I can see the eagerness in his eyes, which are just as desperate to know what the hell Gene wants.
“Well, are you gonna call or not?” Dad says, suddenly catching on to the tension in the air.
Dylan seems like he wants to protest once again, then he nods and hits a button to call Gene back.
I hold my breath when I hear the faded ring before he puts it to his ear.
“Gene, I got your message. What’s this about?”
I strain to hear what’s being said on the other end. When Dylan’s eyes dart to me, filled with alarm, I inhale even more air into my lungs.
“What? Who the hell—?” he stops, his eyes flashing something my way before he rolls them away and faces forward.
That does nothing to calm me, and I exhale, leaning forward, straining against my seatbelt to try and get a glimpse of his face—or at least hear what’s being said on the other end.
What the hell is going on?
“Gene…just—just stop for a moment. Obviously, we both know that’s a lie. She would never…”
He goes quiet for a moment.
“That’s a bit drastic. I think we can come up with a better solution than that.”
He waits again, his jaw working hard before he sighs in frustration. “Right. Dammit.”
His eyes slide back to me again. “Listen, Gene, I need to call you back.”
There’s a brief pause before he speaks. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am with her right now. I’ll call you back.”
Dylan hangs up to the sound of Gene’s faded voice of protest.
“So, what was that about?” I insist, no longer able to hold my impatience in check.
Dylan: Ex-Bad Boy: An Ex-Club Romance Page 15