“Three miles that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction from our neighbors.
“Damn,” she mumbled, accidentally stepping into a hole. Rae moved around a bit, struggling to get her foot out.
“You good?”
She ignored the question, trying to continue through her small huffs of effort. “Do you like being out here on your own?”
“It’s the dream,” I assured.
Rae caught my gaze, lingering on my small smile. Her brow twitched. She knew I had an inkling of her struggles. And knew I’d chosen not to jump to the rescue. Rae coughed out a dry laugh.
“Lovely.”
“Quite.” I nodded.
She tugged at her trapped foot. It was an odd standoff: she wasn’t asking for help, and I waited for the request. I wasn’t sure whether she was unwilling to ask for help or simply confident she’d find a way out on her own. Either way, I was curious to see how she responded when someone didn’t bend over backward for her.
While waiting for her to fold, my curiosity got the better of me, and I had to ask, “Do you live full-time in the RV?”
She grunted a little as she pulled on her ankle. “Yes.”
“Huh,” I murmured to myself.
Rae paused. “What?”
I shook my head and shrugged.
“Huh, what?” Her smile was long gone, replaced by the hard desire to hear my opinion. She wasn’t always all sunshine and rainbows. I’d dare say if I poked a little harder, she’d give me a glimpse of what lay underneath her layers of silky charm. My desire to interact with that side of her would wedge its way into every word we exchanged until she gave me a peek behind the curtains.
“I don’t know, I thought it was mostly for vibes,” I said. “I watched some of y’all’s videos. The post-job debriefs.”
Rae and Co. had half a million followers on their jointsocial media pages. They did things like monthly wrap-ups and how-to videos. It was all surprisingly educational when one suspended disbelief, which was something I experimented with while watching to see if it’d help me stomach things better. It had.
“I figured the RV was something to pull up in when you go to an event. Consistent marketing to keep up that boots-on-the-ground, traveler lifestyle storyline you got going,” I continued. “And then, you’d ditch it for flights to your next gig because the story could only go so far.”
“What’s wrong with you and stories?” She stopped wiggling for a bit, giving me her full attention. “Please, tell me how good marketing has personally victimized you.”
“Hasn’t it victimized us all?”
“It rarely leaves such a large chip on the shoulder.” She held out her hand. “Come here.”
I laughed under my breath at the hard order. She made rudeness almost cute. Almost. “Excuse me?”
“I need help out of this…quicksand?”
I snorted. “It’s wet mud.”
“I’m sinking.” Insistence made her tone clipped. “Or something’s pulling me in. I’m leaning toward the latter.”
“It’s in your head.”
“Do you want your assessment done before midnight or not?” She shook her hand, urging me forward.
I stood in place for a second longer just to piss her off a little more before moving close enough for her to grab onto my arm.
Her fingers were warm and soft around my wrist. I wrapped my hand around hers, lighter with my grip, conscious of my rough calluses.
“On three,” she said.
