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Cowboy, Take Me Away

Page 21

by Juliana Smith

And that’s when I press call.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to the ringing. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t answer again. She’ll call back soon; she always does. Even if it takes a while.

“Hello?” Her voice bounces around my car, echoing where the silence dwells. I take another sniff of the bottle.

“Mom.” My voice is so wonderfully neutral and I am so grateful to not be crying at the sound of her voice. We texted recently, sure, but before that, I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d listened to her real voice. She sounds like an angel speaking.

“Oh, it’s you! I didn’t even see the contact name. What’s going on? How’s Riley?”

“Riley’s good. Working a lot. I, uh, how are you?”

“So busy. You would not believe how much they have me running around this place—I got to assist a shoot with Sebastian Stan yesterday. Don’t worry, I got you a signed hat.”

“Oh, that’s not—”

“I’ll ship it next week when I get a moment of peace. Gah, it never ends, does it?”

My fingers tug at the curls resting on my shoulder. “I’m sure it doesn’t. Well, I know you’re busy, but I was calling because I know you said you were coming for Thanksgiving, and I, well, it’s a little silly, but the first Saturday of December, you know, there’s that Winter Formal thing and some people bring their parents, and I was just wondering if maybe you’d, like, no pressure, but possibly if you’d…?” My hopes of her filling in the blank are immediately shot by her silence. “Come with me. I, uh, have to buy a nice dress and get my hair done and all of that stuff that you’re good at.” I smile to myself at old images of her twisting my hair into perfect braids. “Those things.”

“Mmm.” I can envision her picking at her acrylic nails. “Well, I don’t know if I’m for sure coming this Thanksgiving. I mean, if you saw my list of things to do, then you would understand, trust me.”

“Wait, you’re not coming…at all?”

But she just said the other day…

“I don’t know, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll ship some stuff over. I saved you a bagel with a bite taken out of it by Tom Cruise. It’s in my freezer; you should be able to sell it on the dark web to some freak for at least a thousand.”

“No, uh, no thanks. I’m good. I would really like to see you, though.”

Don’t push it. Don’t sound too needy. Not too much, Flick.

A heavy sigh across the line. “Did you already buy the plane tickets?”

“Yes.” No. I don’t get paid until Tuesday, and I was waiting until I could afford them without tipping my account into the negative. I could ask Rowen for an advance on my check, but he’s done enough for me that I hate asking him. Plus he’s so nosy, he would demand to know what the money was for, and when I would give a random excuse, he would blame it on Riley’s lack of parenting (or aunt-ing) skills.

“Hm, all right, then. I’ll come for Thanksgiving. Most of the shoots close down Thursday and Friday anyway, so I may be a little bored those two days.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. If you already bought those tickets, I should go. Plus, it could be fun, checking out the old haunts and whatnot.”

“Yes, exactly! Maybe we could go to the movies again. Oh, and then we could go Black Friday shopping to get us some dresses for the—”

“I’ll be there for Thanksgiving, but I don’t think I can stay a whole week. Not without a real reason, you know.”

A real reason…

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course.”

“Well, darling, I should go. It’s super late here.”

I’m almost positive it’s only seven p.m. there, but okay.

“Yes, ma’am. And Mom?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m so glad you’re coming.”