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“Great. Let’s train together next week—I’ll email you some options. And keep on keeping on with the practices. And let me know if you need anything at all.”
“Okay, I’ll—”
“See you then. Really great work today, Gia. I can’t wait to watch you bloom.”
Courtney waved Gia out of the office and focused on the computer screen in front of her. Arms full of free clothes, a head full of information, the question remained—did shewantto do this?
???
“We’re really doing this?” Gia tossed a backpack in the backseat of the orange 4X4 that Roxi’d borrowed from her ex and slammed the door a tad too hard. Savannah’s pickup was new and spotless, a reminder that Gia’s car was neither. A little passive aggressiveness never hurt anyone, right?
“We’re doing it. Get in,” Roxi ordered as she hopped into the driver’s side. “Trust me, this’ll be fun. When was the last time you stopped thinking about all your rules and rolled with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. You’ve been good—you’ve earned a vacation.” Roxi continued. “It’s Friday and you just got a promotion. We’re gonna celebrate!”
Maybe she was right. Gia had three nights off from work, and when she came back, she’d no longer work nights. She’d been promoted to assistant stock manager, which, as far as she could tell, meant she did the stock manager’s work while the stock manager did the assistant store manager’s work. It was a weird hierarchy, but who cared? She was getting off vampire hours and onto those where she could make friends and have a life outside of meetings and grocery store shelves. The four dollar an hour raise didn’t hurt, either.
“If you say so.”
“Chica,what’s your problem?”
“Nothing. Really.” Gia buckled her seat beat and reached for the radio. “Does this have Bluetooth? We need a road trip playlist.”
“Yeah, here—” Roxi clicked the media button.
“Got it.”
Before long, they were freeway bound, an ‘80s rock booming through the truck’s upgraded sound system, the sand-colored hills of Palm Springs in the rearview. How Savannah afforded the tricked-out truck on a school counselor’s paycheck, Gia didn’t know and didn’t ask. Maybe it had something to do with the late-night dates?
“Want to play a game?” Roxi slowed to accommodate building traffic. They’d listened to a half dozen songs in relative silence. “This may take a while. The section from here to downtown can be a parking lot. The burbs.”
“Sure. What?”
“Okay, here’s the game. Twenty questions, but a little different. And since you like rules, there’s only one. We can each ask twenty questions. And the other has to answer them honestly. No matter what.”
Outside the passenger window, vehicles lurched and braked. The scenery had changed from open spaces and mountainous vistas to strip malls and fast-food restaurant signs. It reminded Gia of the route from Austin to Dallas—always bumper-to-bumper and littered with advertisements aimed to draw people off the road and into gas stations, restaurants, and tourist traps. Only a few months before, she’d done that drive with Abby, the most recent “almost, maybe” relationship that fizzled as quickly as it started. When they arrived back in Austin after a weekend getaway, Abby hit her with the “it’s just not working out,” speech.
“Isn’t twenty questions a guessing game?”
“Yeah, but not my version. My version is more real—a way to get to know people better.”
“Fair enough, but I get to go first,” Gia said.
“Go for it. I’m an open book.”
“Okay,” Gia looked out the side window at all the signs. So. Many. Signs. “Why do you really wanna go to L.A.?”
“Most people start with like, ‘what’s your middle name?’ or ‘who was the first person you kissed?’ Not you, though. Straight to the point.Me gusta.I like it.” Roxi focused on the traffic, solid poker face masking her thoughts. “Because I want to walk on the beach with you. There’s something about walking on sand that’s chill and good for me. Makes me feel at peace. Whydon’tyou want to go to L.A.?”
“I should’ve seen that coming! Yeah. It’s just—” Gia paused. “Okay, I’m scared.” The strings of stray fabric from Gia’s cutoffs created a waterfall effect on her thighs, and it was fascinating. She couldn’t refocus her gaze.
“Of?”
“Does that count as a second question?”
“Yeah. What are you scared of?”
