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I fumedand paced in front of my van. Why wouldn’t he respond to my texts? Maybe he was working. When had that ever stopped him? I eventually gave up wearing a groove in the grass in front of my van, flopped into my camp chair and called my mum.
“Debra, speaking!” she trilled.
“Mum, it’s Ari.”
“Yes, I know, dear. Your name comes up on my phone when you call.” I rolled my eyes, as she asked, “so, what’s wrong, then?”
“Why would you assume something is wrong?”
“Because you’re grunting at me, dear.” Mum huffed. “It’s not ladylike, either. So, what’s wrong?”
I leapt out of my camp chair, throwing a hand into the air. “Men are what’s wrong!”
Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, “Amen, sister!”
“Oh yes, men.” Mum sighed. “They’re all like your father, you know. Love you and leave you.”
“Not. Like. That,” I snapped.
“Except Cody, of course. He proved he is the exception.” Mum sighed. “Well, what is your man issue? Don’t tell me another one cheated on you.”
“No!” I licked my lips. “Why, do you know if Jet has seen other women while I’ve been gone?”
“Ah. So this is about young Jethro.”
It seemed my dumbassery was continuing. It was on the tip of my tongue to demand Mum tell me everything she knew about Jet’s love life when I stopped myself in time, making a gargling sound.
“Are you alright, dear?”
This was nonsense thinking; we were not a couple; we slept together one night, and he could see whoever he wanted. So can I.
“He’s interfering with what I want to do with my life, and he has no right!”
“Is this about Wes? Is he harassing you? I swear to God, if I see his perfectly styled hair again, I’ll throw so much bleach on him, his hair will fall out?—”
“No, Mum! Not Wes! And no bleach attacks, thank you.” I sucked in a breath. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
“That so-called actor has now turned to ‘journalism’, if that’s what you call it.”
I opened my mouth to demand my mother explain herself but she continued. “He was doing special coverage of the fires here, interviewing locals, that sort of thing. The Turner family have been on TV recently, and there’s nationwide attention on Ballydoon, so much so, Wes Schumacher has been in town.”
“Huh.”
And there it was: nothing. No anger, no vitriol. Just a whole lot of … nothing.
“But don’t worry, dear. After Jet spoke to him, I told him I would hunt him down and leave him hairless. His whole body, devoid of hair.”
There was a lot to unpack in that statement. “J-Jet spoke to him?”
“Yes, Wes tried to ask him a question on live TV, and Jet told him, well, Jet strongly hinted at a specific kind of fornication that Wes should engage in, and walked off, leaving Wes gaping like a goldfish on national TV.”
I huffed a laugh.
“It’s become a meme online. You should look it up. Now, who is it interfering with your life?”
I clamped my lips shut, not wanting to say his name again for some reason. “Just … someone.”
“Speaking of what to do with your life, you can always join me here in the salon and be the beauty therapist.”
