At first I think I’m right and the flight is at nine tonight, until I read the message underneath. I’m off by three hours because I flipped the number upside down. I go back to my emails and scroll through the most recent ones. Amber sent one this morning. It’s a voice memo, thank Christ.
I hit play. “Just a reminder that you fly to Toronto this evening at six. Your tickets are attached in the email. I also picked up a few of the items on the list of things you felt might make good gifts for Sunny. Those are packed in your carry-on bag. Your luggage for the camp has been sent directly there to minimize the number of bags you have to take with you.”
Damn, she’s good. And she’s not even finished.
“An SUV has been rented for you,” her message continues. “All you have to do is pick it up at the airport in Toronto once you arrive. Sunny’s address and the directions to the camp will be pre-programmed into the GPS system. I hope you’re managing without me. Call if you need anything. I should have phone reception between today and tomorrow, but I’m unsure after that. You can always call Violet; she has all the information. So does your dad, but remember he and Skye are on a cruise for the next two weeks.
“This message will self-destruct in thirty seconds. Kidding! You’ll be fine, Miller. Good luck with Sunny.”
I should’ve known I’d mess this up. Things can’t ever be easy for me when it comes to dates and times.
I check the time on my phone. Vi’s right; it’s after five.
Even with my bags already packed, there’s no way I can make this flight.
“Come on, let’s go.” Violet grabs my wrist and pulls me toward an old-school Torino. It’s Waters’ car. I’ve only seen him drive it a couple times.
“I have my car, and I need my wallet.”
“Leave your car here. You need to rebook your flight, and you don’t need to be distracted with driving. It’s too much for your yeti mind to handle.”
“Can you give the damn yeti jokes a rest, please? I feel shitty enough without the insults, today, thanks.”
As I turn to go back into the house, the door opens. “Hey, man! There you are! I thought you’d taken off already.” Randy glances behind me at Violet. “Hey, how’s it going, Vi?”
“Hi, Randy.” She makes this sound, like she’s choking on something. Here we go. It happens every time she seems him. She can’t get past his name. And she thinks I’m immature.
I look over my shoulder; her whole body is shaking. She balls her hands into fists and pulls them up like she’s getting into a fighting stance. Then she thrusts her hips, not once or twice, but three times. When she’s done, her face is blotchy, and she pretends to be mortified.
“Get your wallet. I’ll be in the car.” She spins around and almost trips on her way down the front steps.
“Bye, Violet,” Randy calls after her.
She waves over her shoulder. “Bye, Ran—”
She stops, turns again, and gets back into a half squat. Her face is all pinched and weird looking. She cups her hands like she’s holding a pair of melons. “Balls! Randy Balls!” she yells.
“You do know my last name is Ballistic, right?” He’s smiling.
“You’ll always be horny nut sac to me!”
Then she runs the rest of the way to the car and slinks down in the front the seat like she’s trying to hide. It’d be way funnier if I wasn’t in shit.
“She’s a little crazy, huh?”
“Uh yeah. You get used to it. Eventually. I gotta go; I missed my flight,” I tell Randy as I brush past him, back into the house.
“You said it wasn’t until nine.”
“I got it wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Miller.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’ll check in with you when I get to Toronto. You’ll have to send me your flight details so I know when to pick you up from the airport for camp.”
“You got it. Don’t worry about it now. We’ll get it handled.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll tell Lance you had to bail.”
“Thanks.” Randy is good people, even if he is a dickwhore.