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Chapter Eleven
River
Deanna tries to insist on sitting shotgun, but Lexi insists harder. After they debate, I take the seat, and the two of them talk outside the car.
It’s strange to watch the most willful woman I know (besides Grandma) bend.
Is this a common occurrence? Does she bend for Lexi all the time?
For some reason, it’s easy to imagine. It’s easy for me to imagine most things. But not things where Deanna Huntington is a reasonable, caring, compassionate person.
Reasonable? Absolutely. Certain she knows what’s best for her sister? Obviously. But loving?
From a certain definition, maybe. A sort of fifties father, sitting in his study drinking scotch (neat, of course), calling her kids (sister) in to explain what they’re going to do. Not what they should do. What they will do.
In a menswear-inspired pinstripe suit.
A sexy version, with nothing under it.
Suddenly, the image comes to life in my head. Only there’s no kid. Instead, Deanna climbs onto the desk, undoes the button of her pinstriped jacket, motions for me tocome here.
And then she’s on the desk and I’m on top of her and I’m tasting her lipstick—
No.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is Grandma’s influence. She’s only willing to watch sci-fi or fantasy films if they include an enemies-to-lovers trope.
We watched the originalStar Warstrilogy about a million times.
And then Grandma and Fern and North argued about whether Harrison Ford was sexier as Han Solo or Indiana Jones and—
Fuck, Deanna would make a sexy Han Solo, wouldn’t she? Or an Indy. I can see her in nothing but a vest, pointing a blaster at an enemy. Or in that open-shirt, fedora, whip-wielding pose of Indy’s.
The whip. That’s why so many people prefer Indy.
And it suits her.
“Find My Phone was your idea!” Lexi’s loud voice pulls me into the moment. She slides into the car and smooths her suit jacket. Then her pink dress. “You did step into your role, Dee. Drinking too much to drive home.”
Deanna slides into the back seat and slams the door. “Uh-huh.”
Lexi ignores her attitude as she turns the car on and pulls out of the parking lot. “And I’m taking your role. Only one drink. All the responsibility.” Lexi turns to me with a wide smile. “I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”
The attention warms me. She’s still the sun, her intensity still overwhelming. Only now, between streetlights and neon signs, its brightness feels wrong. Out of place.
“When did Willa leave?” Deanna sits up straight. She looks to the rearview mirror, pulls her lipstick from her purse, applies another coat of deep red.
There. The second she smooths her dress, she’s picture perfect. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was on her way to a party. She doesn’t show a single sign of intoxication.
She’s the other Deanna again, the one who never admits weakness.
“She only stayed long enough to rub a few elbows,” Lexi says.
“And she approved of your plan to—”
Lexi turns on the radio just in time to cut Deanna off. One of the slow-jams satellite stations. “Sorry. Should I put on something a little more sisterly?” She switches to a pop channel.
A girl-power anthem fills the space. Something popular when we were in high school.
