The Road to You

by Alecia Whitaker

“Well, there were five of us on Winnie, and she was way smaller than Dolly.”

  “Did you say Dolly?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, blushing a little. “That’s what Stella and I named her.”

  “Ah,” he says, nodding.

  I think about our punch line, but in front of Kai it feels corny. I change gears. “You want something to drink?”

  “Sure,” he says. “I’ll take a water.”

  I squeeze around him, just barely brushing his forearm with my own, and shiver. This is the first time I’ve seen him in something other than the required all-black roadie wear, and while I didn’t think it possible, he looks even better in street clothes. His style is casual but put-together. He’s wearing a snug-fitting white cotton shirt that looks soft and comfy, like it’s been washed a million times, with slim-fit jeans and plaid Converse sneakers. His black hair is longish on top and looks like it might have some product in it, and he wears a woven band around his wrist. A silver chain is tucked under his shirt, and I wonder if the necklace is lucky like mine.

  “Do you play poker?” he asks, walking over to the table. He picks up the case of chips we’d been using on our way to LA.

  “I know the basics,” I say, setting our drinks down. “My brothers love cards.” The bus starts to roll forward and we sit, Kai opening the case and pulling out the deck.

  “I prefer Texas Hold’em,” he says, shuffling. “You’ve got to know the rules of the game, but poker is about so much more. It’s about reading people. Come on, let’s play. You’ll be ready to empty the Vegas vaults by the time the tour rolls through there.”

  A girl doesn’t grow up in an RV with two older brothers and not learn a thing or two about reading people, but I don’t tell Kai that. I think it’s cute that he wants to teach me how to play. He deals and I pick up my cards. I would normally fold the two of diamonds and nine of clubs right away, but we’re not playing for money so I ante up to see the flop.

  “I loved ‘Emma’s Watercolors,’ by the way,” I say when he turns over the first three cards. A couple of low diamonds but nothing worth staying in for.

  “You did?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” I say. “So sad, though. The first time I listened to it I was in bed and then I couldn’t fall asleep.”

  “I told you,” he says knowingly. “It tortures me.”

  “Yeah, and the crazy thing is that it’s not just the words. The music itself is—I don’t know. If there weren’t a single lyric it would still be depressing.”

  “No, you’re totally right,” he says. He is so enthusiastic that he doesn’t even realize he’s holding his cards faceup. I was going to fold, but his hand is as bad as mine so I stay in. “What else did you like?”

  “Oh,” I say, looking up. “One of the songs reminded me of ‘Some Nights’ by fun., but with a slower tempo.”

  “Really?” He frowns. He looks down and throws in a chip, clearly bluffing.

  “Yeah, a little.” I match his bet, and he burns a card before flopping over another. It’s a king of diamonds.

  “Probably ‘Restless,’ ” he says, clearly not liking the comparison. “I guess I can see that.” He frowns at his hand as if he’s not sure what to do and then baffles me by throwing in a stack of red chips.

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Um,” I stall, looking away. He doesn’t know that I know he’s bluffing, so I cover. “You seriously don’t see the similarity between Zane and Cass and fun.?” I look at my cards and pretend like I don’t know what to do. Once I feel the appropriate number of seconds have ticked by, I match his bet. He looks up at me, arching his eyebrow as if that were the last thing I wanted to do. I have to look out the window to keep from laughing out loud.

  “I guess now that you mention it,” he says nonchalantly as he burns another card and turns over the river, “but fun. is so… mainstream.” The queen of diamonds smirks up at me, but I study my cards as if still stumped. I know he has nothing, but I can feel him trying to read me… and failing miserably.

  “I never really thought of them as ‘mainstream,’ ” I say, knocking the table with my knuckles to check. “Have any of the indie bands you like made it?”

  “Well, it depends on what you mean by ‘making it,’ I guess,” he says, frowning again. He looks up at me almost apologetically as he pushes his chips forward. All of his chips.

  And now I’m in a pickle. I know I’ve got him beat, but I don’t want to stop playing. I like having something to do with my hands, having something to focus on besides his absurdly cute face. If I luck into a weak flush on the very first hand, will he even want to play again? I mean, he’s trying to teach me and I don’t want him to feel bad.

  “Whoa, too rich for me,” I say, throwing my cards down. “I fold.”

  His shoulders relax and his lips stretch wide into a beautiful smile. “I was bluffing,” he admits, showing me his cards. He rakes the chips toward himself, and I shake my head as if I can’t believe it.

  “Oh, man!” I say, picking up the cards for my deal.

  “You have to really study me to figure out my ‘tell,’ ” he explains. “The ‘tell’ is something people do unconsciously when they’re bluffing.”

  “Ah,” I say.

  “Wait, let me see what you had.”

  Kai grabs my cards before I mix them into the deck, and I gasp. “Hey, don’t—”

  His jaw drops. He takes a beat and then looks up at me with a half grin. “Are you hustling me, Bird Barrett?” he asks slowly.

  I blink. “Huh?”

  “You’ve got a flush,” he says. “You folded a flush.”

  His dark eyes search mine and I cringe. “I just thought when you went all in that if I smoked you on the first hand you’d feel bad.”

  He shakes his head. “Of course you play poker,” he says, chuckling now. “Cool girls always play poker.” I shrug and smile, and he tosses the cards back my way. “I accept the challenge, Doc Holliday. Deal ’em and don’t hold back.”

  Smiling, he sorts the chips and evens out our stacks again while I shuffle. I pay the big blind and we get serious about cards, but over the next hour, we also talk more about music, about our families, and about the places we’ve been. He is obviously passionate about the underground music scene, but it’s a little puzzling. It seems to me that what he likes more than the music they make is that no one knows these bands. I am much more interested when he talks about his mom working two jobs until she met his stepdad and how disappointed they were when he decided not to go to college. We also bond over our travels.

  “I’ve never been to Europe,” I say. “Or abroad at all, actually.”

  “Have you been to Hawaii?” he asks. I shake my head. “My mom grew up on the Big Island. It’s awesome.”

  “Well, if they had RVs that float, the Barrett Family Band would’ve booked a gig, no doubt.”

  He grins. “You’re ridiculous.”

  I smile and look down at my cards, hoping that’s a compliment. Kai’s legs brush mine from time to time, and his body is so close in the kitchenette that I feel like I can’t get a good breath. Even though the conversation has flowed, I still can’t get rid of the constant jitters around this boy. I never got this worked up around Adam.

  “Your go,” Kai says, nodding at my cards.

  I cringe as I raise him. He has to surrender his last chip and he does so slowly, dramatically, which makes me laugh out loud. We turn over our cards and examine them, look at the five in the middle of the table and the two we each have, and he hangs his head. I’ve beaten him, fair and square.

  “Bird Barrett!” he says, reaching his hands over and grabbing my head. He pretend shakes me, his muscles rippling. I laugh and fake trying to escape, swatting at him.

  “Sorry!” I say, dragging the chips my way when he lets go.

  “Oh yeah, ‘sorry,’ ” he mocks, dramatically pantomiming sweeping piles of money across the table and into his lap. He
tosses imaginary stacks into the air and I giggle uncontrollably. He affects a high-pitched voice. “ ‘So sorry, Kai. Please show me how to play poker.’ ”

  “Hey, I never asked you to teach me,” I say.

  He grins, so hot. “I know, I know. I’m just kidding.”

  We sit there looking at each other, until I can’t return his gaze and turn my focus to putting the poker chips back into the silver case. He hands me the deck of cards and then I click the case closed and stand up to put it away.

  “You want a snack?” I ask, walking up front and opening the cabinets. “Cashews, granola bars, chips and guac?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” he says. Then he stands and stretches, his shirt rising up with him so that I catch a peek of smooth brown skin at his waist. He walks toward me and crashes on the couch, lounging at a diagonal with his legs stretched out.

  I sit, too, folding my own legs up underneath me, hyperaware that he’s so close. “So what else does Kai Chandler do in his free time, besides teach clueless girls how to play poker?”

  “Funny,” he says wryly. “Actually, I’m really into photography. When I’m not touring, I spend a lot of time shooting or editing.”

  “Have you done anything, like, professionally?” I ask.

  “A year after my mom and Matt got together, he asked me to take some pictures that he could use on his menus.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.”

  “Yeah, really cool because I was only fifteen and had this old, crappy camera. Matt could’ve, and probably should’ve, hired a professional.” It feels like he’s sharing something really personal with me, and he’s not at all hesitant. It’s something he did the first day we spoke, too. “And then that Christmas, he and my mom bought me a really nice camera, and I was hooked. I saved up and eventually got a great computer and taught myself to edit my pictures and convinced everybody in my family to pose for me. I think they’re all pretty sick of being my guinea pigs.”

  “I bet they love it.”

  “Well, five years later and Matt still uses those first pictures on the menus,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve taken more for advertisements and the walls, but he won’t change the menu. I’m like, embarrassed, you know? My work is so much better now!” He smiles. “But my parents—they’re sentimental like that.”

  “I think that’s amazing,” I say. “My parents are super supportive, too. I feel really lucky.”

  He looks up at me. “I’m sure they feel the same way.”

  I thank him with a shy smile and we sit together in silence for a minute, enjoying the closeness. I could so easily lean against him, rest my head on his shoulder, rock with the bus with him as my pillow. When he talks about his life in Los Angeles, I can’t help but imagine myself as a part of it. Not that I’d let a boy influence a major life decision like moving to California, but still…

  “What did you think of the menu, anyway?” Kai asks, breaking the silence.

  “What do you mean?”

  “At Makana,” he says, smiling mischievously. “What did you think of my pictures?”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. “That was your parents’ restaurant?”

  He nods.

  “Oh my gosh, Kai, I could kill you!” I say, swatting his rock-hard arm. “What if I’d said it totally sucked or something? What if I’d said the owner was a jerk?”

  “I knew you’d like it,” he says, his chocolate eyes glittering. “And I know he’s not.”

  “I cannot believe you sent me in there without telling me that,” I say again. “I would’ve looked closer at the pictures and tipped the waitress more or something.”

  “My mom said you’re a great tipper, so don’t sweat it.”

  “That was your mother?!” I exclaim, my eyes bulging.

  He nods his head, clearly enjoying himself, while I, mortified, think about my dad asking whether the fish head was still attached on the fresh catch. “I could kill you. I could just kill you.”

  “Aw, Bird,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders, sort of like you would with a best pal and sort of like you would with a best gal. I melt into the sofa, the feeling of his arm at the back of my neck sending a warm surge across my entire back. “But then who would you pummel at poker?”

  I cross my arms and fake pout, but snuggle in anyway. It feels amazing to be so close to a boy, to a boy I really like. For a second, I am taken back to that day in January when Adam and I first kissed. I think about how even though I’ve known him for years, I never met his parents—how he’d change the subject whenever they came up—how he was always on the road alone.

  But I snap to, shaking my head and pushing him out of my mind. I’m here now with Kai. He pulls up a song on his phone and as the music fills the bus, I find myself wishing that Sissy could let off the gas a little. We’re at the San Diego city limits already, but I could drive all the way to South America like this.

  Once we arrive, Kai heads off to set up. I know I should probably get my journal to write, but I grab my cell phone instead and call Stella, rehashing the last two hours with Kai.

  “So where is he right now?” she asks.

  “Walking across the lot to one of the vans.” The sun paints the parking lot a brilliant yellow hue, yet he is the brightest spot on the landscape, like a spark of fire, heat, energy. Oh man, my heart’s already writing poetry about this boy.

  As soon as we turned into the lot of the Valley View Casino Center, I had to swallow back a groan. It’s not that I’m dreading my performance—not that at all—it’s that I want more time alone with Kai. Why couldn’t my dad mess up the merchandising between two farther stops, like here and Phoenix? And Kai certainly didn’t linger. Once Sissy put her in park, he thanked us for the ride and bounded down the stairs, all business. I can appreciate that he takes his work seriously—I do, too—but it all felt so abrupt.

  “And he didn’t kiss you?” Stella asks.

  “No!” I almost wail, walking back to the bedroom.

  “So, does this mean maybe you’re finally over Adam?”

  I chew my lip and think about it. “I don’t know. I do know it sucked when he decided to leave town,” I say. “But just because we’re texting again—occasionally—doesn’t mean I’m going to pass up this chance with Kai.” I grin just saying his name. “Stella, he’s so… deep. I mean, on a whole other level. He’s sort of got this brooding, mysterious vibe about him, like the minute he walks into the room I’m intimidated.”

  “Well, probably because he looks like a Versace model,” she cracks.

  “But it’s more than just his looks,” I say. I sit on the bed and pull my lucky rock pendant out from under my V-neck, running it back and forth along its chain. “He’s so passionate about music. Oh! And when I told him that guys never really noticed me before, which was the inspiration for my first single, he said, ‘Then you must’ve been hanging out at a school for the blind.’ ”

  “Wah-wah,” Stella responds dryly.

  “Whatever,” I say, laughing. “It was cute. Oh! And that restaurant he suggested? Makana?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That is his family’s restaurant!” I cry. “I met his mother and stepfather and didn’t even know who they were!”

  “Stop it,” she says. I can imagine the look on her face and it makes me smile. “Bird, that was totally a test. He wanted to get their honest opinion of you. Like, you’ve met his mother already. Let that sink in.” She pauses for dramatic effect. It works. He wanted me to meet his family, see his roots, know him. “Kai likes you, Bird. Majorly.”

  I smile from ear to ear, throwing myself back on the bed. “Well, I like him, too. Mega majorly.”

  “I liked Adam and all,” she goes on, “don’t get me wrong. But you know what makes Kai a way better match for you?”

  “What?”

  “He’s there,” she says. “Like, you can see him every day if you want.”

  I sigh. “I know. It’s amazing.”

  “Moving on
to my love life,” she says now. “Is my future husband, Jason Samuels, single or still with that blah Devyn Delaney? TMZ says they’re back together.”

  I laugh out loud. “Oh Lord. At first, I thought you’d really met someone.”

  She laughs, too. “Nah. The only guys I hang out with these days are your brothers and my friend Ty, and we both know I’m not that hard up,” she says.

  “I don’t know,” I tease. “You and Dylan looked pretty close on your Instagram the other day.”

  “Oh, gah,” she groans. “He came to my mom’s show, Bird. That’s it.” Then she gets fake serious. “And I would never cheat on Jason.”

  I laugh again. “Okay, well, he and Devyn are definitely not together, no matter what it looks like. Anita told me it’s a publicity thing.”

  “I knew he still loved me,” she says dramatically.

  “And, not to be disloyal or anything, Stel, but Devyn was actually really nice at the premiere last night.”

  “Bird!” my dad calls, pounding on Dolly’s door.

  “Hold on,” I say, giggling as Stella pretend gags over the Devyn comment.

  I walk up front and unlock the door for my father, who looks furious.

  “You care to explain this?” he asks, storming up the stairs. He thrusts his phone in my face, and I’m confronted with the pic that Devyn took of us last night… except there is a giant red arrow pointing to a huge red circle around the glass of champagne I was holding. My stomach drops.

  “Dad, I only took one sip,” I say, putting my phone down to my side. I am in so much trouble.

  “You’re sixteen!” he booms. “One is one too many!”

  “I didn’t even like it,” I say. “It’s just that everybody at the party was drinking and I didn’t want to—”

  “Oh, so if everybody jumped off a bridge, you would, too?” he asks, the vein in his forehead bulging.

  I force myself not to roll my eyes, and play the penitent daughter, but it’s hard. “No,” I say quietly.

  “You look pretty intoxicated to me,” he fumes.

  “Dad, seriously, it’s just the picture. I was smiling and then changed to a serious expression at the last minute. My eyes are a little closed, but I’m not drunk. I swear.” I grab my dad’s arm and look him straight in the eye. “Dad. Please. I didn’t get wasted last night. You have to believe me. I would’ve never retweeted that pic if I were doing something wrong. It’s just, somebody handed me a glass of champagne and I didn’t know what to do with it.”