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Jamie goes to start a kettle for tea and turns to look at us. “Lee and I are off to Surrey today. I need to drop in at the estate for a few things. You’re both welcome to join if you don’t have other plans.”
Jack shakes his head. “Can’t, mate. Got a match this afternoon.”
“Abbs?” Jamie asks. “Care for a drive out to the country?”
I’m not exactly claustrophobic in the city already, but I could use some greenery and blue skies. Might be nice to get out from under the gray buildings and car exhaust.
So I say, “Sounds delightful.”
“Lovely.”
“And on the way, maybe you let me try a little of that driving on the other side of the road?”
It came up last night, though from the puzzled look on Jamie’s face, he doesn’t recall our conversation. He laughs, shaking his head.
“Not bloody likely. I’d sooner lose a foot than give you the keys of a machine like that. American drivers are notorious.”
“You know movies aren’t real, right?”
“Isn’t crashing cars literally a sporting event there?” he responds. “Depends who you ask.”
Jamie pours himself some tea, defiant. “Americans are the most destructive force the world has ever known, and I won’t have one behind the wheel of my car. Especially not a teenage girl.”
“The most dangerous kind,” Jack says with a mocking ominous voice.
“I’m turning twenty in January,” I protest.
“It’s September. Ergo, today you’re still a teenager who won’t be touching my car.”
“Forget him.” Jack winks at me as he carries his empty bowl to the sink. “I’ll take you driving when we get a chance.”
A flush of excitement warms my cheeks. “Really?”
“Sure. What’s living without the imminent threat of death?” Jack elbow-jabs me on his way out of the kitchen, leaving Jamie to chuckle to himself as he scrolls Insta.
Boys are dicks.
Once Jamie, Lee, and I are on the road headed south out of London, I come to understand why Jamie is so militantly protective of his car. The Jaguar is gorgeous on the inside and rides like it’s on a cushion of air. Of course, this makes me more determined to break down Jamie’s resistance. I’ve got time. He hasn’t seen me put my mind to a task yet.
“Nate’s got another gig at the Polly next weekend,” Lee says from the passenger seat, reading off his phone. “Should he put us on the list?”
At the mention of the hottest bassist on planet Earth, my heart does a very predictable somersault.
“That depends. Are they going to play a song I’ve not heard forty times?” Jamie asks dryly.
“They’d have to write a song that isn’t one of their eight thinly veiled Bob Dylan covers, so I doubt it.”
“Okay.” I laugh with relief. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I thought I was the only one.”
“They try so hard,” Lee says. “Does have the feeling of a child’s school recital, though, don’t it?”
“Shame, because Nate’s bloody damn good,” Jamie tsks. “Come to think of it, Kenny’s a fine singer. And Rodge kills it on those drums.”
“Perplexing,” Lee agrees.
“My dad always talks about how he was in this band in high school. They were all fine individually. Together, they were a dreadful mess.” I shrug. “I guess it takes more than standing on the same stage to make a band.”
“That’s quite good,” Jamie says. “I like that.”
