The guilt card. A nasty tool all mothers use on their children.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m not shelling out the cash to fly there. I’ll drive this time.”
“All the way from Tempe to New Orleans?”
“Yes. And I will save big money doing it,” I say. “I’ll get my shifts covered at work and leave in the morning.”
“Excellent. Your grandmother will be so happy.”
I scoff. “Happy enough for karaoke, no doubt.”
She clears her throat. “I’ll see you here in a few days then. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up the phone and head back into the dorm room to find Levi and Pixie making out against the wall.
“God. Seriously, you two?” I make a face. “I know you just got together in the middle of the road a few hours ago, but come on! There are other people here.”
Levi doesn’t seem to notice me as he continues kissing Pixie’s face off, and Pixie takes her sweet time pulling back from her loverboy before acknowledging my presence.
She shoots me a hazy smile and nods at my phone. “Who was that?”
“My mom.” I exhale. “Grandma claims she’s dying.”
“Again?” She bites her lip.
I nod. “So I’m going to drive out there this week and try to be home before school starts.”
She pulls away from Levi, just slightly, but it’s enough for him to stop smelling her hair—which I swear he was just doing. They’re so in love it’s almost gross.
“By yourself?” Pixie’s green eyes widen.
Pixie and I met last year, at the start of our freshman year at Arizona State University when we were assigned the same dorm and became roommates. When school let out for the summer and Pixie and I could no longer live in the dorms, we split up. She moved to her aunt’s inn up north—where she fell in love with Levi—while I moved into a local apartment with three of my cousins. It was a good setup, for the summer, but I’m happy to be moving back in with my bestie.
She and I are both art students—she’s a painter and I’m a sculptor—so we have a ton in common and get along perfectly. She’s the closest friend I’ve ever had, so I try my hardest to take the concern on her face seriously.
“Yep.” I put my phone away. “By myself.”
Levi reluctantly steps away from his girlfriend and busies himself by unpacking some of Pixie’s things.
She frowns. “That doesn’t sound like fun. Or very safe.”
Levi glances at me. It’s one of those big-brother protective glances and I have to bite back a smile. Aw… look at this guy. He barely knows me, but he’s still worried about my safety. For the hundredth time, I silently rejoice that he and Pixie got together. She deserves a good guy who looks out for both her and her friends. A guy like that would drive me crazy. But he’s perfect for Pixie.
“I’ll be fine,” I say to both Pixie’s big eyes and Levi’s concerned glance as I wave them off and grab my purse. “But I have to stop by work and then my cousins’ apartment for the last of my boxes. I’ll be gone a while, so you two can get back to smooching against the wall or whatever.” I wink at Pixie. “See ya.”
“See ya,” she says with a concerned smile as I exit the room.
Jumping in my car, I quickly head to the Thirsty Coyote, where I work as a bartender. It’s a decent job for a college student. Good hours. Good money. And it suits me. Pouring drinks isn’t my dream job or anything, but it gets me one step closer to finishing school and opening my own art gallery—which is my dream job.
I let myself inside and head to the back. It’s just past dinnertime so the place is packed and I have to squeeze through the crowd just to reach the bar. When I get there, I lean in and call out to my coworker.
“Cody!”
He turns around and smiles at me. “What’s happening, Jenna? Thought you had the night off.”
“I do. But I need to get some shifts covered this week so I thought I’d come in and sweet-talk my favorite bartender…” I bat my lashes, knowing full well Cody isn’t attracted to me at all. But he’s still a sucker for making money, and more bar shifts means more money.
He grins. “I’m listening…”
I whip out my schedule and show him all the days I’d need him to cover. He agrees like the superhero that he is and heads to the back to make it official in the schedule log.
I wait at the counter, thinking about how long my drive to New Orleans will take if I leave tomorrow. Probably at least twenty hours. Ugh. Pixie was right. It really isn’t going to be any fun.