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My eyes flick toward his face, but can’t linger long. He seems to have a sixth sense for knowing when I’m watching him. The quick flash I get is the same snapshot I’ve gotten every time I’ve looked at him over the past four hours — long hair slicked back and dried finally, jaw clenched like he’s trying to make diamonds between his molars, flashing blue eyes fixed firmly on the road.
Cold, analytical Executive Liz cares little for human emotion. The bottom line is her only goal, that and just how much her bonus will be at the end of the year. But flesh and blood Liz? Reality-show-watching, karaoke-loving real Liz? Well, despite her intense dislike of this loud, rude, possibly unstable (judging by his driving) man, she’s feeling a drop of pity. Rhett’s made it clear that he has zero interest in banking, and even less for following in his mother’s footsteps, but it has to hurt being cut off and disowned.
On the other hand, if he didn’t want to lose his toys, then maybe he should have done something else with his life other than leeching off Mommy.
I wish I could talk to Anna, but that’s a no-go until Chicago. Not only would she be able to help me make sense of things but she also could entertain me. If I’d known that I’d be stuck in a car for twelve hours, I would have brought a book.
Unfortunately I’m stuck with Rhett, who’s not the best conversationalist. I struggle to find something we could talk about and come up blank. Why is this so hard? It’s literally my job to be engaging, but every time I find an opening, all I can picture is his cutting disdain, his sarcastic, biting words. Then my own annoyance rises and I wonder if it’s even worth the effort. We may just drive all the way to Chicago in complete silence.
Surprisingly Rhett ends up being the one to break the lull.
“We’ll have to stop for the night,” he says. “Eventually.”
Oh. I hadn’t even considered it, but he’s right. We left too late to make it in one shot. “Outside of Cleveland, maybe?” I say.
“Nah, we’ll pass Cleveland around nine. We can squeeze at least a couple more hours in. Get to the other side of Ohio. I’d rather not get into the city too late tomorrow.”
“Do you want to switch driving at some point?”
That finally turns Rhett’s head toward me. He shakes it once, deliberately. Hell no, his eyes say, or maybe, Don’t even think about it.
“I don’t really want to,” I say. “Just trying to be nice.”
“Why?”
“Why am I trying to be nice?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah. You don’t like me at all.” He rolls his shoulders, stretching them and then rocks his head back and forth to crack his neck. “If you’re worried Mother’s going to get a bad report from me, don’t be. She doesn’t give a shit if we fight the entire time.”
“Well I do. I’d rather not be at each other’s throats the whole weekend. Can’t we try to be civil?”
“I can try,” he says.
“Which implies that I can’t,” I say flatly.
“Do you really think—”
“If this is about to turn into another fight I think we should just turn the radio on.” Before he can say anything or react, I do it myself, pressing the dial and sitting back with my arms crossed.
A familiar metal song starts to play, all screaming, heavy drums, and pounding guitar riffs. Perfect. I sit back and stretch my arms, concave my back, and settle in for another half dozen silent hours.
It takes me a moment to realize that Rhett is looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you trying to be funny?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. His hair has flopped down across his forehead and he looks like a scruffy anti-hero, the archetypal lovable rogue. AKA completely my type. I have to look away immediately, pretending to be very interested in the landscape outside lest I imagine him in a baseball cap.
“I don’t try to be funny,” I say. “I either am or I’m not. It’s other people’s faults if they don’t have a sense of humor.” There’s a beat, and I look back over at him. “Okay, there I was trying. Please laugh so one day I’ll try again.”
Rhett blows air out of his nose which is apparently the best I’m going to get. “You don’t really like this music,” he states.
“Why not? Just because I don’t dye my hair black and wear leather and chains?”
“Essentially.”
“Well then I’ll have you know music like this was made specifically for combat soldiers and people in finance.”
That gets a laugh out of him, albeit a small one. “So your phone is really filled with… What exactly is this?”
