If he tries to drag me into an elevator, I’ll scream my fucking lungs out.
Drake stops in a relatively quiet section beside the elevators, his chest blocking my view of the rest of the casino. “I’m surprised to see you, Cali. Didn’t think you’d show your face after you were fired.” Vodka vapors waft on his breath.
He crosses his arms and shakes his head. His eyes leave me briefly to glare over his shoulder—at Jaeger hunched protectively over Gen. Drake’s toxic breath, the image of the guy I’m falling for with my best friend, brings bile to my throat. I grab the wall and swallow the sour taste in my mouth. And realize a moment later how weak that makes me look.
Straightening my shoulders, I say, “What do you want?”
The look Drake levels at me is ruthless. “Your friend won’t be able to pull the same stunt in here that he did the other night.” He taps two fingers to his temples and raises them to the ceiling. “I’m the eyes inside Blue. One move out of line and I’ll have him thrown out.” He cocks his head. “I could be persuaded to put in a good word for you. Help you get your job back.” His gaze trails my body, sending a shiver of repulsion down my back. “With the right motivation.”
I pinch my mouth and hold back a gag. “You’re horrible. I must have been drunk off my ass to let you take me home. Leave me alone, Drake.” I push past him, but he grabs my arm and squeezes until my fingers go numb.
“Remember who’s in charge here.” He shakes me, wrenching my neck. “Show a little respect.”
My eyes open wide at the threat. I’m not an employee. I have no rights. This is Drake’s world—his word against mine. What he’s doing to me is wrong and looks bad under any circumstances, but how do I know he didn’t drag me to the one place no one can see us? Or that he won’t tamper with the surveillance footage? “You made your point. Let me go.”
Drake releases his hold and plasters a charming smile on his face. “The offer of help stands.”
I don’t trust myself to respond—afraid that whatever comes out will make matters worse. I move toward the exit, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed. Inside the parking garage, I run to my brother’s car and lock the door the second I’m in. The tightening in my chest from holding my breath ebbs, replaced by a sharp pain as images of Gen and Jaeger blind me. It could have been innocent—him holding her—but after what Gen told me this afternoon, doubt nags me.
My head sinks onto the headrest. I thought returning to Lake Tahoe would help me work through my reservations over grad school. But it’s horrible here.
I have to get out.
The door to the cabin slams shut behind me, but my brother’s gaze remains fixed on the television. He hasn’t moved from his position on the couch. The only difference between when I left and now is that he’s watching a surfing flick instead of motocross.
“Tyler, I need to leave.”
“Okay,” he says without looking up. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. Take the car.”
“No. I meant get out of town. Go visit Mom or something, just get away for a bit. She’s been asking me to come.”
Tyler lifts his gaze. “Uh, okay. When were you thinking?”
I close my eyes briefly and inhale. “Now?”
“Now. As in, right now? This minute?”
I nod.
Tyler clicks off the television and sets the remote on the couch’s arm rest. “What’s up, Cali? What’s going on?”
“Everything. Have you ever just needed to get away?”
Tyler looks past me. “Yeah.”
“Well, this is one of those moments. I can’t stay here another minute.”
He slaps his knees with his palms and stands. “Okay, then. Pack your stuff. We’ll call Mom on our way.”
Tears collect behind my eyes with love for my brother. Tyler knows something’s up, but he’s not pushing for details. He’s giving me space. If I cry, though, he will ask, and I can’t deal with that. I blink hard and swallow. I need to pack.
An hour later, we pull into the drive of Mom’s single-level house in Carson City. It’s dark and there’s not much to see, but the neighborhood appears quiet and safe.
My mom opens the front door, pushes out a metal screen, and takes the first step onto the cement stoop. She clenches her cotton bathrobe closed. “Nobody’s sick or dying?”
“We’re fine, Mom,” I say as I walk up the driveway.
“All right, then. Tyler, show your sister to the guest bedroom. You can sleep on the couch.”
“The couch?” he groans. “Mom, last week I was in the guest room. Now I’m relegated to the couch?”
“Would you like to sleep on the floor? No? Then quit your bitching and help your little sister with her luggage.”
Tyler tosses my bag over his shoulder and disappears inside.
Mom grabs my hand before I pass. “We’ll talk tomorrow about what’s going on.”
She always knows when something’s up. She’s like a human lie detector.
Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapter Nineteen
My mom’s little rancher has blue carpeting and brown tile counters, but it’s hers. I can tell by the way she flutters around the kitchen the next morning that she loves it. She’s making her famous cheesy eggs while Tyler sleeps in. After Mom and I woke and started banging around in the kitchen, he wobbled into the guest bedroom.
She sets a cup of coffee and some toast in front of me, sliding the eggs from the pan onto my plate. “Okay, Calista. Talk.”
I’m not sure if it’s Mom’s voice, her use of my full name, or the soothing remnants of her perfume, but large tears gather behind my eyes, creeping down the slope between my nose and cheek.
She rounds the table, scooches my butt over on the seat with her own, and locks me in a hug. “Shhh. It can’t be that bad, honey.”
“It’s bad.” There’s so much crap that’s built up, I’m not sure where to start. I begin with the most obvious. I’ve gone back and forth, but my instincts haven’t veered. I take a deep breath and look up. “I don’t want to go to law school.”
Mom stills for a moment, then rubs my arm. Up and down. Up and down.
“Do you hate me?”
She pulls back. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I’m not living up to my potential.”
She shakes her head. “Cali, you’ve always lived up to your potential. You’ve never failed at anything you put your mind to.”
“Eric dumped me.” Might as well get all the humiliating shit out there.
She snorts. “Never liked him.”
“You didn’t?” I study her face. “You never said anything.”
“I wanted you to figure it out on your own. A mother doesn’t tell her daughter not to date a guy. It’s a sure way to push her into his arms.” She nudges me with a wink. “I speak from experience. At least your father gave me you and Tyler. He also gave you his brilliant brain. Thankfully, you have my common sense.”
“Mom, you’re smart.”
She smiles. “Yes, honey.”
I roll my eyes. This is a common argument. I hate it when Mom puts herself down. She’s had a rough life. She deserves more than she’s been given. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve a daughter screwing things up.
Mom takes the seat next to me, giving my ass cheek its spot back on the chair. “Now, what are you going to do? Would you like to stay here for a while? I spoke to Connie. She told me you lost your job at the casino.”
I spit the gulp of coffee I took back into the cup and pinch my nostrils. Some of the liquid has gone up my nose. “She did?” My voice comes out in a high squeak. “And you didn’t call me?”
“Figured I’d hear from you soon.”
I can’t believe my mom isn’t lecturing me.
“Didn’t I warn you that place is a cesspool? Those people have no morals.”
There’s the lecture I expected. All is well in the world. I’m only surprised she isn’t accusing me of making a poor decision with school. I wish she’d had this attitude when I was sixteen. Tommy Parson would have been to blame for sneaking in my window instead of me getting grounded for allowing it. “Mom, I worked there. You worked there. Not everyone at the casinos has low morals.”
“Well, there are exceptions.” She sweeps a lock of gold-red hair from my eyes. “So, you lost your job, your boyfriend, and you don’t want to go to the school you’ve worked half your life to get into. Have I got it all?”
“Shit, Mom. Do you need to spell it out like that?”
“Language, sister,” she scolds, which is as hypocritical as it gets. Mom is where I got my potty mouth.
I frown. “There’s one more thing to add to the list. I’m not sure, but … there’s something going on with Gen.”
Mom leans back like she’s farsighted. “She okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s been keeping things from me. I just found out Eric hit on her while we were dating. She was kind of a mess at the time. She said she didn’t tell me because she was worried I would think she led him on. I had told her things were great between me and Eric when they really weren’t.”
Mom takes a bite of the eggs cooling on her plate and I glance at my own. No one makes cheesy eggs like my mom. They’re the perfect comfort food.
“Cali, it sounds like she was caught in the middle and didn’t want to lose your friendship.”
I spear a forkful of cheese heaven. “I know, but—” Mom sips her coffee, then sets the mug down, waiting. “—she was with Jaeger and he was holding her, and Mom, it made me sick,” I say in a rush.
“Jaeger? The boy your brother was frien—”
“Yes, yes.” I shovel the eggs into my mouth.
“Uh-huh. Okay. So you’re with Jaeg now.”
“No, Mom! This is not about my love life.”
Mom pushes her plate across the table toward the sink. “Are you sure? Sounds like there’s something going on there.”
“This is about trust. I don’t know who to trust. Gen told me she wasn’t seeing Jaeger, even though they went out, and then I found him holding her after I discovered she lied to me about Eric.”
“And you don’t trust yourself with your future. I think I’m getting the picture.” She scrubs the dishes in the sink—no dishwasher in her new digs. She places my toast on a napkin and steals my empty plate. “What about Jaeg. Do you trust him?”
I press a finger to the napkin, picking up toast crumbs and licking them off. “I want to. A part of me panicked when I saw them together. It’s partly why I came here.” It was the main reason at the time—that and Drake scaring me—but I’m not saying that to Mom. “There’s something going on. I guess I’m afraid it’s not going to be good. I should talk to Jaeger, but I’m so messed up, Mom, you know? He’s this accomplished artist with tons of money and I lost my shitty casino job. If I give in to my reservations about a law career, I can add grad school dropout to the list.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, the drama. You can’t be a dropout if you haven’t attended. Figure out what you want and don’t worry what anyone thinks. Your brother and I will support your decision. We’d rather see you do something you love than something you hate. Have you any idea how difficult you are to live with when you’re not happy?”
“Mom!”
“It’s the truth. You’re a very passionate person, sweetheart.” My face flames. The last thing I want is for my mom to talk about me and passion in the same sentence. “You can either be passionately pissed off, or passionate about something that makes you happy. It’s your choice.”
One of my biggest worries was that my mom would be disappointed if I didn’t attend Harvard or some other brilliant law school, but she’s acting surprisingly cool about the whole thing. This should make me feel better. It does. I just don’t want to end up a loser by not going. Most new college grads struggle to find jobs, often winding up at Starbucks making minimum wage. Okay, I don’t know that for a fact, but it’s a fear.
That afternoon, Tyler and I stretch out on aluminum patio chairs in the backyard while Mom mans the barbecue. This is normal protocol in my family. Mom cooks and Tyler and I eat. Neither of us knows how to boil water. It’s extremely hot that Jaeger cooks, and self-preserving on my part to date him. Perks aside, I care for him and want to believe I misinterpreted what I saw. Given my state of mind over Gen at the time, I probably did, but I’m not ready to look into it. Fear is a fickle bitch.
I dig a scooped chip into the dip and load as much salsa as possible to piss my brother off. He frowns, hastily dumping more salsa from the jar into the bowl. “If we run out, you’re making a store run.”
Bulls-eye. Point one to Cali.
I study the chip in my hand. “Tyler, do you think I’m artsy?”
He chews a double-decker salsa-chip sandwich. “Sure. You make those sketches.”
“Doodles …”
If I don’t draw, I get grumpy. The doodles are my therapy, but I never thought about doing it for a living until Jaeger said I was talented. Artists are poor, right? Well, except Jaeger. He seems to be doing okay, which is a shocker.
Makes me wonder, though … if I got into an art program, could I do something with it? I’d have to moonlight in town to take art classes during the day. It’s not the worst idea.
Mom rotates the chicken kebabs on her rusted barbecue. She’s wearing a V-neck T-shirt and turquoise shorts. Her pale legs look pretty darn toned for her forty-eight years. She tucks a lock of flame-red hair behind her ear. “Have you thought any more about what you want to do, Cali?”
We’ve been talking about Tahoe and jobs all day. After Tyler woke, I mentioned the reservations I have regarding school. He shrugged and said I should do what I want, so no help there.
“I enjoy the company and all,” Mom says, “but you’ll have to make a decision soon. You can stay with me, but I doubt Carson has more to offer than Lake Tahoe. What is it you really want?”
She sets the barbecue tongs on the handle of the grill and plops into the chair beside me. She tugs my shoulders around so that my back faces her, and she begins braiding my hair. It’s our silent ritual. Mom says it relaxes her, but it downright puts me to sleep.
“I’m not going to law school, Mom.” There, I’ve said it. I’m making it official. It was probably official the moment I told her I didn’t want to go, but this is definitive. I don’t know why this big decision now, with a tenuous love life and my livelihood and friendship in the toilet, but I’m taking a leap of faith it will all work out. Mom’s hands still, and I look over my shoulder. “Are you disappointed? You said you wouldn’t be.”
She shakes her head and scoots closer. “No, I’m not disappointed. Turn back around.” I do as she says, and she starts braiding again. “Tyler isn’t the medical doctor I envisioned the day he came home in sixth grade and rattled off the name of every bone in the human body, but he’s teaching biology and living somewhere that makes him happy.”
Tyler shifts. I wonder what he’s not telling. There’s a story behind his long visit.
“I want that for you, sweetheart,” Mom continues. “Trust me when I say you won’t be happy working at the casinos for the rest of your life.” From the corner of my eye, I see her shoulders rise and fall. “Do I feel a sense of panic when you say you’ll be staying on at the lake? Yes. It’s beautiful, but the lifestyle in that town can be crude. People come looking for utopia and wind up broke with an STD and a drug addiction.”
My lip curls. “Gross, Mom.”
“It’s the truth.”
I think about Drake and some of the other people I’ve worked with. She’s totally right. The casinos attract people looking to make quick money, not all of them trustworthy or moral.
“You’re capable of so much more, but if you don’t want to go to Harvard, then you shouldn’t.” She swings the end of the braid over my
shoulder and stands. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone in this life. As long as there is air in my lungs, I’m here for you.” She bends and kisses my forehead, her perfume and the soft feel of her lips a balm to my frayed nerves.
Chapter Twenty
I spend the next couple of days at my mom’s kitchen counter using my laptop to research art and design classes in Lake Tahoe. The more I think about pursuing art, the more right it feels. Jaeger put the bug in my ear during our hike at Fallen Leaf Lake, and if I think back, Gen nudged me a time or two about my drawings as well, but I never took her seriously—I wasn’t ready.
I’m ready now.
Once I knocked down the walls of the narrow corridor that was the road to my future, possibilities opened up. Options I never considered, but that were probably always there, waiting to be nurtured. What better time to try something new than when you have nothing to lose?
I texted Gen when I first arrived to tell her I’d be away, but I haven’t contacted Jaeger. He’s called several times and left three messages. I haven’t returned a single one. A confrontation needs to happen, but I have to figure myself out first.
By the time Tyler and I return to the lake, I have pages of information on classes and informational phone interviews lined up with a couple of local artists. I know zilch about what it takes to make a living in this field. I’m hoping that talking to other artists will help. I could talk to Jaeger, but yeah, that’s not going to happen. Not with things where they stand. He and I have other stuff to talk about first. But I can’t go there until I’m strong enough.
I’ve been sketching like crazy. Now that I’ve delved into it, I wish I’d considered a creative art career a long time ago. It still scares the shit out of me. Art doesn’t require a scholarly predisposition, which is what I’ve relied on to get ahead. Art is about creativity and imagination. A career in this field is a leap of faith that could make me truly happy—or could land me flat on my face. But considering that my nose has had an up close and personal view of the gutter, thanks to my ex-boyfriend and Blue Casino, how much worse can life get?
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