Page 26 of June: Jess' Story
“You ready?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be,” I reply.
“Umm, is it just me or is this place kind of…shitty?” I was trying to think of a kinder word, but I don’t think there is one. The only other word that comes to mind is…brown.
Damian’s laugh bounces around the cab of his rented Escalade.
“I like to call this place an ‘acquired taste,’” he says with a smile. (He’s being much more gracious than me.)
Driving through Britain’s hometown has me confused. I’m trying to match her description of the place to what I’m actually seeing. (And what I’m seeing has me depressed.)
Britain moved back here following the implosion of her life in DC. (First Damian left her for his assistant. Then she came here to get closure with her mother’s death, eventually ended up falling in love with a hot zaddy who then dumped her rather rudely and very publicly. And now she’s living here because she’s a masochist, just like me.)
The town itself is decent sized and smack dab in the center of California, but it’s farm country, which is strange to me. We’re in California, not Montana, but I guess the term “California cowboy” had to come from somewhere. And if I had to guess, I’d say it was here.
I raise my eyebrows and blink rapidly as we pass a brown building with weathered siding and yellow neon that reads:The Boot Barn.
I haven’t been here before, but I think Damian’s been here twice. Maybe more?
“About how long till we get to her place?” Brit’s new house isn’t in town, it’s on the outskirts, on a lake, Robles Lake. I know her house is beautiful (I helped pick it), so as long as I don’t get suckered into riding a mechanical bull somewhere, or stuck in this sepia colored valley, all will be right with the world.
“Mmm,” Damian hums, “thirty minutes or so.”
“K,” I nod my head and look out the window.
We pass through a small, worn downtown area before hitting the highway towards Robles Lake. The highway then eventually fades from four lanes to two, and the straights turn to hills and gentle curves. Rolling mounds, covered in dried-out, beige grasses surround us on each side and I start to get a bit claustrophobic. Wide open spaces and I’m claustrophobic. (I know. It’s weird.) Butcity girlhere doesn’t like it. Something about no cell service and being stranded, it gives me the ick.
“Hey, thanks for taking Eden for a bit during the flight.” If I’m already uncomfortable, I might as well swim in it and say thanks to Damian. He held her for a bit so I could sleep. When I woke up, they were both zonked out, snoring together. It was cute.
He turns to look at me and smiles. He’s handsome. He has sort of unruly reddish hair that just works on him. He’s lean and cut, a fitness fanatic, and he has these piercing blue eyes and a strong jawline. Top that off with the title of CEO and, like, I get the appeal, I really do.
“Anytime,” he says. “I miss the girls being that small.” His daughters haven’t been that small in a decade and a half. “I missed a lot of it,” he says quietly. I may not have been around during that time, but Britain told me. About the sacrifices he made, the time he poured into his company and not his family. It paid off, I guess. Sold his company for a couple hundred million last year, but if the price was not seeing your kids grow up, was it worth it?
“I miss….” He mutters as quiet as a whisper before trailing off, never finishing the sentiment. But I can infer the meaning. (Read: I missher.) And there it is, Damian’s character flaw. Britain is his greatest love and no one can compare, not even his fiancé Summer. (Yup, he’s engaged, but still pining for his ex.) I reach over and rub his shoulder in a very platonic manner, but one that I hope says, “I know. I won’t tell.”
This might be a weird opinion for me to have, but I think he could do better than Summer. Damian looks over and smiles at me, giving me one dimple. And yeah, he could definitely do better. Sure, Summer is textbook gorgeous, but there’s something between them that just doesn’t fit. I always sort of thought Summer was just the closest life raft he jumped to when he was drowning in despair from a loveless marriage. She was his easy out.
He clears his throat, simultaneously clearing the air. “So what had Tommy pulling on his big boy britches with you today?” I pull my hand back and roll my eyes. I don’t really want to talk about it. I mean, I haven’t even told Brit, but I know Damian can keep a secret…
“Tommy and I…well, we’re over.” Damian looks at me sharply. Like he’s maybe confused or even shocked. He’s got one eyebrow cocked. “He’s in love with someone else,” I say it like this explains and excuses away the entire situation. I clear my throat to drop the banger, “He’s in love with Jamie.” Damian’s disposition shifts from shock to understanding. Like maybe he had suspected something between them before. Maybe he flat-out knew. I mean, he has known Tommy longer than me.
Damian eventually just nods, then rests a gentle hand on my thigh (as platonically as possible).
“Don’t tell Brit, please?” I ask him. “She’s got a lot on her plate, and I just wanna focus on helping her.”
“It’s safe with me,” he says, giving my leg a gentle squeeze then removing his hand. “You could have called me, you know?” It had crossed my mind, but I didn’t know if it would be weird because he was Tommy’s friend first. I just shrug, though.
As we get closer to Britain’s house (well, I assume closer because we’ve been in the car nearly 25 minutes), I have to get this off my chest. “Don’t get too annoyed with me when I pretend to dislike you, but I gotta keep up appearances.”
Damian laughs a little. “We could just tell her we’re friends now. It’d be the truth…and it’s been long enough…”
I get a little pang of anxiety at the thought, but play it off. “I don’t know, I kind of like our banter. Where’s the fun in being friends?” I shoot him a slightly mischievous look and Damian leans an arm across the car to ruffle my hair, with a certain boyish charm that says, “You’re annoying, but a great friend.”And I smile back at him, then smooth down my hair.
Looks can be deceiving. A snapshot right now might get titled:“Couple Flirting on Scenic Drive”, but that would be a lie six ways to Sunday, just like most snapshots are.
Brit gave us a quick tour of the house upon arrival, and several things: First, my best friend looks like shit. She’s gorgeous, always,but she looks too thin, the bags under her eyes are dark purple, and she looks ready to cry at the drop of a hat. My stomach sank the moment I set eyes on her.
The second, this house is a fucking mansion. She keeps calling it a villa like that makes it sound quaint, but it is not. It’s not even a McMansion, this is just a flat-out mansion. I would literally kill to live here. I might even get over my fear of wide open spaces because it’s just that amazing.