This Much is True Page 3

He stands there waiting, and I look down at my bare feet. My fingers twist in my lap. “If you don’t live in LA… Any chance you’re heading back to San Francisco?”

  “No.”

  So we’re back to one-word answers again.

  I’m about to argue when a friendly male voice interrupts us.

  “Heard you drive up.” He pulls John into a one-armed bro-hug. “Good to see you, man… Not looking too worse for wear.”

  New guy is the same height as John with lighter hair and friendly blue eyes—they’re the exact same color as his brother’s. He’s wearing board shorts and a thin tee that shows off his perfectly tanned, muscular arms. The light scruff on his face doesn’t hide the cleft in his chin, and when he smiles, he has a cute dimple in his cheek.

  This guy is clearly a movie star. Or a surfer dude.

  He’s about to toss his bag into the car when he steps back. “Holy shit, where did you get this? It’s like straight out of that TV show.”

  I smile up in response. “My best friend and I used to call it Metallicar.”

  “Who are you?” He looks at his brother. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anybody.”

  “I’m not seeing anybody.” John seems pissed as he goes to the trunk and opens it. “She sneaked into the car, and I can’t get her out.”

  “Hey!” I frown, looking back at him. “I told you I fell asleep in the backseat.”

  “She was drunk.” John says it like I stole somebody’s dog. “Here.”

  He shoves a bottle of water in my hand, and my eyes widen. I rip the top off and drink it like it’s the elixir of life.

  “Okay, then!” The brother laughs, sticking out a hand. “I’m Scout. Nice to meet you.”

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before shaking his. “Hope.”

  “So you’re helping us drive to South Carolina?”

  “No.” John reaches forward and grabs my upper arm in that vise grip of his, dragging me out onto the sidewalk. “Her part ends here.”

  Scout’s brow furrows, and he looks down at my feet. “Do you have shoes?”

  My face flames hot. “I kind of left them at home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “San Francisco. At least, it was before I lost my job.”

  “It’s a six-hour drive to San Francisco.” He studies me a beat, but his brother is undeterred.

  “Life’s tough all over. Say goodbye, Scout.”

  John walks around Metallicar, climbing in the driver’s side while his brother stands in front of the open door, studying me. “You got anywhere to go?”

  “We don’t have time for this.” John looks straight ahead.

  “I’ll be okay…” My throat is tight, but I force a smile. “I usually land on my feet.”

  Scout glances at my bare feet again before tossing his bag in the backseat. The frown hasn’t left his face.

  He starts to get in, then hesitates, standing up again. “You know, he has to bring me back here… If you’re not doing anything, you could help us drive. JR wants to be back in a week, but I don’t know how the hell just the two of us can accomplish that.”

  “Get in the car, Scout,” barks John… or JR?

  At this point, I’m ready to take any help I can get. “I don’t mind driving. I’ve never been to South Carolina.”

  The driver’s side door opens and John stands, glaring across the top of the car at me. “You, stay put.” He points at his brother. “You, get in.”

  “I guess it’s a crazy idea.” Scout shrugs. “You don’t know us. We don’t know you…”

  “Yeah…” I’m standing on the sidewalk watching the only two people I barely know in LA preparing to leave, and desperation sets in. “But you’ve got my car…”

  “My car,” John growls. “Would you come on?”

  “Want to use my phone?” Scout steps forward quickly, holding out the device to me. “I haven’t left this apartment in two weeks except to surf. It should be safe.”

  “Thanks!” I take it carefully, tapping in Yarnell’s number as John continues to wait. It rings and rings and ultimately her voicemail picks up. “She’s not answering.”

  Dropping my chin, I pass it back to him.

  He takes it, pressing his lips together. “Well… good luck, I guess.”

  “Thanks again.” I nod, doing my best to appear brave.

  The reality is I’m terrified. What the hell am I going to do alone on the streets of LA with no shoes and a dead phone?

  I watch as he climbs inside, looking out the window at me, worry lining his perfect face. A breeze pushes the thin skirt around my legs, and the fluffy coat I’m wearing is hot in the LA sunshine.

  Metallicar rumbles low as it pulls away, and I lift my hand, waving as they ease from the curb. I step back, walking to the front steps of the Pink Flamingo as the red tail lights grow smaller in the distance.

  Jr

  “It’s not right. We can’t just leave her there.” My younger brother looks out the window at the waif of a girl standing on the sidewalk in front of his building.

  “She’s not a puppy, Scout.”

  “Hell, I’d be less worried about a puppy. At least then somebody might throw her some scraps or take her in. As it is—”

  “As it is, we’ve got to make it to Tucson by nightfall.”

  I try to fight it, but my eyes drift to the rearview mirror when we stop at the red light. I see her standing there, watching us go in that thin yellow dress with the big beige coat on top that looks like she skinned a teddy bear. She’s still holding the empty water bottle, and I can still see her bright blue eyes watching me.

  She’s too sweet and too damn pretty. “That girl is trouble.”

  “That girl?” My brother hooks a thumb, laughing at me like I just called her a killer bunny.

  “This isn’t a joy ride.”

  “Right. What is this exactly? You get out of the joint and immediately you want to drive thirty-six hours across the country in three days?”

  “I want to see Jesse.” My throat aches at the thought he might’ve forgotten me.

  I don’t include the part where I plan to confront my dad and demand answers—or punch him in the face.

  That part makes my blood pressure rise.

  The light finally turns green, and I’m about to floor it when Scout grabs the door handle and hops out. “Not on my watch.”

  I slam on the brakes shouting, “Scout, Goddammit!”

  But he’s jogging back to where a young guy in a dirty hoodie is talking to Hope. He always has to be a hero. I was like that eighteen months ago—until I learned the hard way heroes just get slugged in the stomach then kicked in the nuts when they’re lying on the ground.

  The car behind me honks, and I pull out of the lane of traffic, doing a shitty parallel parking job. Stepping out of the vehicle, I watch as Hope shies away from hoodie guy, and I see relief wash over her face when she sees Scout jogging towards her.

  My brother doesn’t hesitate. He grabs her arm and pulls her to where I’m waiting at the car. Hope’s pale blonde hair fans out behind her as she jogs to keep up with him, and that teddy bear coat falls off one shoulder.

  She looks too young to be able to own a car, much less sell one and get ditched in Los Angeles alone. Her blue eyes are too round, and her pink lips are like the small roses our grandmother used to grow over the fence in her backyard.

  In spite of myself, I take in her slender frame and the heat in my stomach turns to something lustier. I imagine crushing those glossy lips with mine…

  Fucking… What the hell?

  Trouble. This girl is trouble.

  Scout is talking to her. “I know it’s crazy, but these are crazy times. We’ve just got to go with it.”

  “You sound like my dad.” Her voice is hesitant but curious. “He’s always talking about providence and having faith.”

  My brother holds the door for her. “Sounds like my kind of guy. Get in.”

  Our eyes m
eet, and my brow lowers. “This is a bad idea.”

  She pauses, lifting luminous blue eyes to mine. “I’m sorry, John…”

  Her soft voice hits me right in the chest. My jaw clenches, and I swallow the growl rising in my throat.

  “John?” Scout closes his door and hops in the passenger’s side facing me. “The only person who calls him John is our grandmother.”

  Her brow furrows like she caught me in a lie, which is ridiculous. “I guess I should be more careful. You never know when people are being honest.”

  Scout places a hand over his heart. “I vow to be personally responsible for your safety on this trip.”

  I roll my eyes, looking up at the blue sky. It’s a wonder this guy hasn’t won a daytime Emmy yet.

  Leaning forward, I start the ignition. “You are personally responsible for her. Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Have I ever made you regret anything?”

  I pause to think, and no, I can honestly say, my little brother has been the one person I’ve always been able to count on my entire life.

  “Let’s go.” I shift the car into drive, and we head towards the I-10 entrance ramp.

  We’re past Riverside, and I’m about ready to take a break. Hope and Scout have been chatting nonstop, and I’ve learned she’s twenty-three, two years younger than my brother, three and a half years younger than me, and she’d just celebrated the grand opening of her own restaurant Pancake Paradise in the Embarcadero when the lockdown happened.

  “It was my dream happy place.” Her voice is clear as a bell, a little on the high side but not annoying.

  Her jacket is off, and she’s in a thin yellow dress with spaghetti straps over her shoulders that show she’s not wearing a bra. The sun shines through her wavy, light blonde hair, and she holds a Red Vine to her full pink lips, slipping her small pink tongue out to taste it.

  I look out the window, to distract my body from the primal response she provokes. For the last eighteen months, my fist has been my dick’s only friend.

  “It was like hibachi?” Scout hasn’t changed a bit since I saw him last. He’s as ready to make friends as ever.

  “Mm-hm.” She nods. “But with pancakes. You’d get this plastic squeeze bottle like a ketchup bottle but clear. It had your special batter in it, and you could make shapes or write your name or use one of the molds we provided. You could even mix the batters to do like a marble effect.”

  “What’s special batter?”

  “Whatever you want!” The wind pushes her hair off her soft cheeks, and her nose wrinkles. “Plain, chocolate, vanilla bean, cinnamon, red velvet… we even had whole wheat and gluten-free options. Then once it was done, you could decorate it with whipped cream and sprinkles or fresh fruit or fancy syrups.”

  My brother exhales a laugh. “I would have never thought of this, but it sounds really fun.”

  “It was.” Her voice goes quiet, sad, and my chest tightens protectively, which is fucking ridiculous. “I invested everything I had in it. Then I lost it all.”

  “Man.” Scout pats her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hope.”

  For a minute, she glances out the window, and her full bottom lip disappears into her mouth. It’s like when a small cloud passes over the sun on a perfect summer day, a moment of shadow.

  Then she shakes her head and blinks quickly. “It’s going to be okay! My dad says you’re going to stumble when you start to run. The trick is to get back up when you fall.”

  “He’s right.” My brother nods. “Hell, I’d just gotten my first callback to be a paid extra in the new Chris Nolan film on March 20, and bam! Shutdown.”

  “Oh…” Her face falls into a sympathetic expression. “Still, that sounds so exciting. It’s going to come back, right?”

  “I think so. The question is when.”

  She blinks at him in a way that makes me feel tight and angry. She’s curious and cute, and she reminds me of a time when I believed I could do anything, conquer the world if I just got the right chance.

  Clearly thoughts of a man who has been driving ten hours straight without a break. “I’m going to pull over and let you take the wheel soon.”

  “He’s alive.” Scout looks at me and laughs. “Thought you had mind-melded with the car.”

  “Like it mattered with you two talking nonstop.”

  Her eyes meet mine in the mirror again, and again, it’s like a sucker punch. She’s been doing that the whole drive—glancing at me every few minutes as if she’s afraid I’ll pull over and leave her on the side of the road again. I should have done it. I should do it now. She’s a grown woman, for Christ’s sake. As usual, I caved to my little brother, and now I don’t know what the hell we’re doing with her.

  “I blame quarantine.” My brother laughs. “After three months of being alone, I’d gotten to where I was stalking the mailman for somebody to talk to.”

  “Anything’s better than being stuck in the house, right?” She smiles, and that little nose wrinkles again.

  “Three months alone is nothing,” I grumble.

  They fall silent, and her eyes drift to mine again. I’m sorry I said anything. We pass a green sign for Joshua Tree National Park, and it informs us the next gas stop is in 47 miles. I glance at the tank. We’re good, but I’m exhausted.

  Smooth brown boulders rise in prehistoric shapes in the distance, and the spiky shrubs and desert palms rise above the parched earth.

  “To think most people just fly over this.” Hope looks out the window. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “I read it gets as hot as 120 degrees some days.” Scout reaches down and pulls out a bottle of water.

  “Give me some of that.” He hands it over, and Hope puts her hand on the back of the seat, resting her chin on top.

  I’m acutely aware of her proximity to my shoulder. Her head tilts to the side, and she looks at my brother. “I like your name. Scout. Where does it come from?”

  “Our mom was a librarian.” He offers her a water, but she shakes her head. “She named us after her favorite books and authors.”

  “Scout… from To Kill A Mockingbird?” Her head lifts.

  “Yep. Bradley after Boo Radley, and Scout. Bradley Scout Dunne.”

  “That’s fun!” She glances at me carefully. “And John…”

  “John Steinbeck and Phillip Roth,” Scout answers for me.

  “John Roth. JR.” This time when my eyes met hers, she smiles shyly.

  Jesus. It’s worse than her fearful looks. Her shy smile is a hit below the belt. Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I look out the window. No chance of leaving her in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

  “I like your name.” I can’t tell if Scout is flirting or just being his usual friendly self—not that there’s a difference. “Hope… It suits you. Is that all there is?”

  Her laugh is embarrassed, and she shakes her head. “Hope Eternal Hill.”

  “Hope Eternal?” My brother’s voice goes loud, and I fight a grin. It does suit her. “Let me guess. Old-school California hippies.”

  She nods, pressing her lips together as her cheeks flush pinker. “We lived in a commune with five other families. We raised all our own food, made our own clothes. We all home-schooled together…”

  “Damn.” Scout looks at me. “You lived your whole life like that? But what about this car?”

  “I didn’t live my whole life like that. My dad’s family had money. I guess that’s why he had the luxury of walking away. My mom’s family did not have money, so she wasn’t as excited about living like a pauper. She did it for ten years, then she walked away from us.”

  An unexpected edge enters her voice, and my eyes cut to hers in the mirror. All the fear and shyness have disappeared.

  “I’m sorry.” Scout is quiet.

  “Not your fault.” She forces a smile, but their conversation stalls.

  We’re just crossing the Colorado River, and I notice a gas station off the interstate.

  Checking
the mirror, I see Hope gazing out at the desert. Her smile is gone, and I recognize the emotion in her eyes—betrayal, anger, unresolved hurt. She tipped her hand a bit, and it’s possible we have more in common than I thought.

  “Your turn to drive.” I point at my brother as I pull the Impala to a gas pump. Looking at Hope, I nod at her feet. “You need shoes.”

  “If they just have a cheap pair of flip flops—” She looks around the backseat then appears flustered.

  I frown. “What?”

  “I-I don’t have my wallet… I don’t have any money.”

  Or a driver’s license, I mentally note. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll spot you five bucks for a pair of flip flops.”

  “I’ll pay you back!” It’s a little chirp I wave away.

  “What size?”

  “Medium… Seven if it matters.”

  I grab a paper mask at the door and slip it over my face. The gas station is crammed with western-themed gifts and souvenirs, and I push through the aisles of fake succulents, beer holders, t-shirts reading Chuckwalla Valley Raceway, and Arizona sweatshirts searching for shoes… Seriously, who needs a sweatshirt in Arizona?

  Flip flops are not on the menu, but I do find a stash of discount cowboy boots I kind of like. Digging through the pile, I grab the only women’s Size 7, and pay the man from my cash.

  Scout is in the restroom when I walk back to the car, carrying the drinks and boots. I slip the mask in my pocket, and Hope’s eyes widen as she looks up at what I’m holding.

  “What the… You got me cowboy boots?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  She pulls the white ankle boots out of the bag, and her voice goes high. “They’re so cute!”

  Slipping them on her bare feet, she steps out of the car. They stop just below her calves, and they actually go with what she’s wearing.

  I feel an unwelcome surge of pride, and my dick reminds me it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve been near an attractive woman, or any woman for that matter.

  Her eyes shine, and she turns side to side. “I can’t keep these… I can’t afford to pay you back.”

  “They were twenty bucks. The guy had them shoved in a corner marked clearance.”