want to tell you now.” Zakiyyah took deep breaths herself. “Tom Waits, if you really must know every detail of every single thing before we can drive away. ‘I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You.’”
“That’s their wedding song?”
“By all means,” Zakiyyah said, “when you see them, let them know what you think of it.”
Somehow Ashton squeezed both the guitar and the suitcase behind their seats. “There,” he said. “You don’t mind sitting with your nose to the dashboard, do you?” He closed her car door, taking care not to slam it.
In aggravated silence, they drove out onto the 101 and a half hour later, onto Highway 10. Out of Pasadena and San Gabriel Mountains, it was a straight pass through the desert to Vegas. Six hours. Five if he drove like a maniac. The hot wind was fierce, even when they were stuck in traffic and were barely moving. Zakiyyah took a black thermos from the bag between her legs, popped it open and took a deep swig.
“What do you have there?” Ashton asked.
“Lemon water with ice.”
“What kind of thermos is that?”
“The amazing kind,” Zakiyyah said. “Your best friend recommended it. Japanese technology. Incredibly light, yet keeps any liquid ice cold or very hot for over twelve hours.”
“Huh.”
“It’s another one of his life hacks,” she said. “It’s in his book.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t want to insult you by offering you some of my lemon ice water,” Zakiyyah said. “Can I get you your own drink? I’m sure you brought your own. I mean, you being Mr. Prepared, you wouldn’t commit to a six-hour drive through the desert in the middle of summer in hundred-degree temperatures with the top down without bringing something to drink, would you? That would just be crazy. So, where’s your water, Ashton?”
“I see,” Ashton said. “This is going to be one long mother of a drive.”
“And getting longer every minute,” said Zakiyyah.
After a few miles of silence, Zakiyyah offered him her thermos, and Ashton grudgingly accepted. “Do you want to listen to some Apple music?” he said, taking a long welcome swallow and handing it back to her.
“I prefer Spotify,” she said. “Better playlists.”
“Shame that your Spotify is not hooked up to my car, sweetheart.”
“My name is not sweetheart. It’s Zakiyyah. My friends call me Z.”
“Your phone is not hooked up to my car, Zakiyyah,” Ashton said. “But you know whose phone is hooked up to my car? Mine. With my inferior Apple playlists.”
“Whatever.”
He tried again. “So what would you like to listen to?”
“Some classical? Early Bach, or Chopin?”
Ashton groaned.
“Fine, how about some Simon and Garfunkel, or Sam Cooke?”
He made a small whimpering swearing sound under his breath.
“Just forget it, then.”
“How about some Kendrick Lamar?” he said. “Or Chance the Rapper?”
Zakiyyah made a face.
“How about Rihanna?”
Zakiyyah made a face.
“You don’t like Rihanna?”
“I like her fine, but why?” Zakiyyah said. “Do you think I should like Rihanna? Because I’m black?”
“No, not because you’re black,” Ashton said. “Because you have two ears and can hear. That’s why you should like her.”
“So put on some Rihanna, if you know everything. We’ll take turns. And after her, I’ll put on some Sam Cooke. Because I have two ears and can hear.”
“Do you want us to crash?” Ashton said. “Do you want me to run off the road because I’ve fallen asleep listening to your narcoleptic music? Do you know anything about car music? It must be in 4/4 time. Its tempo should be faster than 80 beats per minute, faster than the average beat of a human heart. It needs to keep me awake. That’s also in my friend’s book, or have you not gotten to that part yet? It’s a long book, and that bit is at the end.”
“It’s nine in the morning, why would you fall asleep?” Zakiyyah said. “It’s literally the beginning of your day.”
“My day already feels like a year long,” Ashton muttered, adding louder, “and that’s not the point. Is Cooke’s tempo even 15 beats a minute? He’s not upbeat enough for a wake.”
“I’m done.” Zakiyyah crossed her arms. “Put on whatever you want. Just close the top. It’s too windy and hot.”
“The AC is on.”
“Yes, you’re cooling the outdoors admirably. Maybe that palm tree over there likes your AC, but inside, where I am, I’m hot.”
“Why don’t you take a sip of your ice water to cool yourself down if you’re so hot.” Ashton grumbled, but he pulled into a gas station, closed the top, took her suitcase and stuffed it into the