shoes. “I like them.”
I shake my head. “They’re crazy.”
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “But it’s the good kind of crazy.”
He squeezes my arm and steps away to head back toward the store, and I study him intently.
Maybe that’s the best way to describe him too.
The good kind of crazy.
Cap
My house on Oneida Lake is one of my favorite places in the world. It was one of the first major purchases I made outside of my apartment in SoHo—one of the first uses of my so-called wealth.
The house is big and inviting, filled with space and amenities, and I guess I intended it as a place for fun. A place for my friends to get together, a place to vacation with big groups, a weekend home of sorts.
Of course, the reality has been different, my schedule only allowing for so much. I’ve been here just ten times in the entire span that I’ve owned it, and I’ve had a group of people with me only half of those.
I’ve barely even broken it in, and still, this time somehow feels distinctive.
“I was thinking of taking Ruby to a race up in Oswego tonight,” I say as my housekeeper Greta sets out lunch on the table in front of us. Mark’s eyes light up at the spread, and I smile to myself.
Mark and Connie Rockford are a walking comedy show, and I love that about them. Aside from fitting in with my personality, it gives me hope that Ruby’s got the same don’t give a fuck spirit inside of her, just waiting to be released. I’ve seen glimpses of it along the way, but it’s almost like she’s just too busy to remember to use it.
“I’d be thrilled if you all want to come along too. I know you came out with the intention of visiting your daughter, so I don’t want to be the jerk who robs you of your time with her.”
Ruby makes wide eyes at me across the table, and I smirk. She’s so talented at being annoyed with me, it doesn’t even take her any effort at all to turn her face into a glare.
“Oswego, you say, son?” Ruby’s dad asks, and I have to bite my lip as she chokes on his last word. He’s said it more than once since I met him this morning, and even if I didn’t like it personally, I’d love it just because Ruby freaks out every time he does it.
Her facial expressions are so dramatic, she’s like a cute, miniature, vaudeville actor.
“Yep. It’s probably a forty-five-minute drive, but the action makes it totally worth it. If you’ve never been to a dirt race before, you’re in for a treat.”
Connie worries her lip, so I smile at her encouragingly. She’s got a whole new level of worry as a mother—something Victoria numbed clear out of herself with cocktails and Xanax—but I can tell the core of Connie is both fun and charming. “What kind of people, exactly, attend these races?”
Ruby sighs, something she does a lot with her mom. I imagine it’s tiring being the subject of so much anxiety, but as someone who never really got any from their mother, it doesn’t seem all that bad. “People, Mom. Like you and me. It’s not, like, a stadium full of sex offenders or anything.”
“Well,” Connie mumbles with a shrug. “You never know.”
“We’d love to come,” Mark interjects without waiting. He’s obviously been the referee between the two of them for a long time, and years of experience have taught him it’s best to get the situation under control before it gets out of hand. “And thankfully, when we get back, there’ll be a bathroom with a door to empty the pipes.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, but Ruby shakes her head, mouthing, “You don’t want to know.”
I nod slightly, just enough that she can see it, and she returns the gesture. She means it to be a quick exchange—she still hasn’t really forgiven me for dragging her out here without a choice—but her eyes get caught on mine like a fly in a spider’s web.
Just like a spider at work, I wrap them up tight to keep them there.
“Well, what time do we leave?” Mark asks, breaking the spell by forcing me to look away. I swallow against a newly formed sensation in my throat and take a quick drink of water to clear it.
What the hell is that?
Am I coming down with something?
“Four thirty. Stands open at five thirty.”
“Fantastic. That