“Mr. Banks,” she answers on the second ring. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Anika, I need four VIP passes to Façade for tomorrow night.”
I hear her typing in the background. “No problem. I’ll contact them and send directions and contact info to your phone. As a reminder, your meeting tomorrow is at nine A.M. sharp.” Anika has been with my family my entire life, yet our interactions are always borderline sterile. She doesn’t know me any better than I know her.
“Great. Thank you. Also, did you hear back from San Diego?”
“Not yet, but, I’ll be calling them again this afternoon.”
I swallow my reply. My father’s not the only one who has doubts regarding my ability to lead and be the next CEO of Banks Resorts. Many appear to be working against my efforts, ignoring my calls and emails, and failing to accept meeting requests. I can’t tell my father this, and they know it, and therefore I’ve been stuck playing a game of cat and mouse where half the time I’m left feeling like the fucking mouse chasing the bastard cat.
“Thanks, Anika,” I say and hang up.
“It was that easy?” Cooper asks.
I nod, though the question feels loaded—or maybe it’s the answer because few things are that easy, specifically when it comes to my role with the family business or even Anika.
Cooper leans back in his seat, taking an audible breath.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods, his gaze flicking to the back seat again, making his thoughts apparent. I don’t delve into them or try to understand—I already know I won’t. The very last thing I have time for is a relationship and even less time for the idea of chasing a girl whose feelings are unknown. “Just tired.”
“Take a nap. We’ve got four hours until we get there.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Positive. We’ll have to stop before we get there to charge the car, but we’re basically following the coastline, so you’ll see more of this.” I point out the window as signs invite us to exit for Panama City Beach. “Recline your seat, and take a nap.”
Cooper plays with the controls and settles into his seat. I’m relieved. I don’t want to analyze his relationship with Vanessa or make more plans for the trip. I have enough to focus on with New Orleans.
3
Chloe
I open my eyes and realize we’ve come to a stop.
I don’t remember falling asleep. The car is nearly silent, creating the perfect setting for an afternoon nap.
I sit up, looking over at Nessie to see she’s still lost to dreamland, and ahead of her, Cooper is asleep as well. Tyler’s outside, leaning against the hood of the car, hovering over his phone.
My legs feel cramped, itching with the desire to move, and I wish we’d taken Dad up on his suggestion to bring a cooler because I’m thirsty and hungry.
I look around, hoping I can ascertain where we’re at and how much farther we have until we hit New Orleans. Outside my window is a wall of Annabelle hydrangeas, the kind our grandma grows that have the giant white, cone-shaped blooms. Behind them is the main road where a billboard towers, touting “Mobile, Home of the Best Flea Market in Alabama.”
I’ve never been to Mobile, but when it was Nessie, Meredith, and I planning this trip across the country, we’d discussed stopping here after seeing pictures of their white sandy beaches and abundance of seafood restaurants. The memory has me bending down to look out the other windows, hoping I’ll catch sight of the coast. But the more I move, the stiffer my muscles feel, and the more I regret having my fourth cup of coffee this morning.
I debate waking Vanessa up so she can go with me but decide against it as she hums in her sleep. I know she’s exhausted. Mom and I had lain across her bed, talking about our road trip and this next year while Nessie finally started to pack. I woke up in her bed this morning, and she was already awake, trying to finish getting her things together.
I pull in a breath, realizing my bladder won’t make it to New Orleans. The car door opens without a sound—rising again instead of outward. It’s so weird and so cool, and yet I try to act unfazed by this because Tyler’s turned and is looking at me. I press for the door to close, and it does, silently again like the engine. Dad would love this. We’re parked at a bank of chargers, in the same parking lot as a Target and strip mall. The skies are a dark shade of gray, filled with rain clouds that make the air feel heavy and sticky.
“Is there time for me to walk over to Target?”
He glances at the red and white contraption that leads to his car to charge the battery and then at the store, as though gauging the distance and how long it might take me. The action makes me bristle. I know it’s not his fault—not entirely. There’s just something about Tyler Banks that grinds my gears. Maybe it’s the way Cooper talks about him and views him like he’s a god among men or because every other girl at Brighton falls at his feet. Or maybe it’s because his arrogance is obvious in the casual manner with which he carries himself and brief words that have me feeling like an inconvenience despite us having barely spoken. Or perhaps it’s the fact that five guys saw me make the giant mistake of kissing Tyler Banks and—
“We still have twenty minutes left,” he says, cutting me off mid-thought.
I won’t lie, the bullseye of a Target usually leaves me in a hypnotic state that makes hours feel like mere minutes, but I’m determined to go inside and find the restroom and coffee and be back in
