“Yeah, I have heard that. I had a friend who graduated in fashion design and she had a hard time too.”
“What happened? Did she finally break through?” I cross my fingers, praying his answer is ‘yes’. I could use some hope to continue with my dream.
“Unfortunately, no. She ended up getting married to some investment banker she met and now lives in Connecticut with two kids,” he says, giving me a lopsided smile.
“Oh,” I murmur, deflated. I knew going into design that few people were able to really succeed in it, but since it’s my passion, I went for it anyway.
“But,” he says, nudging his shoulder with mine, “she wasn’t half as talented as you, Madeline Jennings.” He smiles down at me sweetly.
“Thank you,” I grin back, “but you have never seen my work.”
“Yes, I have,” he answers. Before I can question him further, we see Ian coming over with his cart overflowing with luggage.
“About time, Ian.” I turn around, towing my suitcase behind me. Suddenly, I feel my suitcase jerk to a stop behind me.
Gabe is there grabbing it. “You might as well take advantage of the cart,” he says, taking the suitcase from my hands and placing it on the cart. Ian huffs as though it is too much to push, but Gabe and I both chuckle as we walk to the rental car counter.
As soon as we get there, the young boy behind the counter motions for me to step forward so I walk over to him. I am surprised to see Gabe step up next to me.
“Can I help you?” the young kid asks.
“Reservation for Madeline Jennings.” I place my ID and credit card on the counter.
“Okay, we have you down for a compact this week.” The kid moves to take my ID and credit card, but a hand quickly covers them both.
“Can we upgrade to an SUV?” Gabe asks.
“What?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.
“His luggage isn’t going to fit in a compact,” he says, pointing to an exhausted Ian who is making his way over to the rental car place with all of the luggage in tow.
“We will have to strap it to the roof. I can’t afford to upgrade,” I admit, nodding to the young man to continue with the previously agreed upon transaction.
“First of all, I don’t think a compact has a rack you can strap luggage to,” he says, laughing. “Second, I would never make you pay. Let me get an SUV, and we can share it all week. We will be going to the same places anyway,” he adds, awaiting my answer.
I bite my bottom lip, contemplating my options. “I can’t let you do that, Gabe. Not to mention, the reason I’m getting a rental car is so that I don’t have to rely on anyone this week.”
He pulls out his wallet, handing the kid his ID and credit card. “Go ahead and book us an SUV and put both of our names on it.” He grabs my credit card and hands it back to me. “You can keep the truck and come get me when we are doing something,” he says with finality.
Did I miss something? Since when is he in charge of me? The problem is, I knew Ian’s luggage might be a problem. I guess I will just go ahead with Gabe’s plan and then drop the truck off later for him to use. I don’t need or want his charity.
We lug all of Ian’s bags onto the shuttle van that will take us to the rental car lot. When we arrive, Gabe makes me pick out the SUV we are going to use. Of course, Gabe doesn’t just get a regular SUV; he has to get a full-sized one. I pick a nice blue Chevy Tahoe, but it is huge and I don’t really want to drive it. After living in New York for the past two years, I’ve gotten used to not driving, and to go from taxi cabs to this monster of a truck is too much for me to take. When Gabe tries to give me the keys, I tell him to keep them.
Gabe raises his eyebrows, but begins loading the SUV with luggage. When the last bag is in the back, I am astonished to see that it is jam-packed with luggage. Does he always have to be right?
We head down the freeway toward our town, which is about an hour outside of Chicago. I can’t stop nibbling on my lower lip. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. I have heard Gabe’s phone buzz a few times with text messages, and I wonder who they are from.
By the time we pass the sign “Welcome to Belcrest: population 1,531”, my lip is raw and I am starting to sweat. I can’t believe I am back in the one place I swore I would never return.
“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding when you said you came from a small town,” Ian remarks from the backseat.
“Belcrest is small but mighty. Right, Madgirl?” Gabe playfully nudges me with his elbow. That is how the football team has always been described, ‘small but mighty’. We’ve never had as many guys as the other teams, but we were still state champions five years in a row when my brother and Gabe played. By the time I graduated, the run ended.
I remain quiet, nervous about seeing everyone. We pull up to Gabe’s house, which still has the same white porch with hanging flower baskets. I get out, stretching my legs and Mrs. Basso comes walking out with a chocolate lab behind her. Dixon passed away when we were in high school and they got a new pup, Kisses, which was affectionately named by Mrs. Basso. She said she was outnumbered for years and it was time she had a girl around the house. Since all of the boys were pretty much out of the house by then, there wasn’t really a fight.
“Gabe, it’s so good to have you home,” she says, embracing him in a tight hug.
“It’s good to be home, Mom,” he responds, squeezing her back. I know he has always had a close relationship to his family, unlike me. “Anyone else here yet?” he asks.
I freeze, not wanting to know whether or not Trent is here.
“Doug is out back with your dad,” she says and then turns toward
“Madeline?” she asks curtly.
“Hello, Mrs. Basso,” I say.
“I assumed you would be in town this week,” she says, coming over to give me a brief hug. Cold compared to how she used to hug me.
“Why are you guys driving together?” she asks, seeming irritated.
“We ran into each other at the airport and thought we would share a rental car this week.” Gabe tosses the keys in my direction.
Catching them, I hear Ian clear his throat behind me.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mrs. Basso this is my friend, Ian. Ian this is Gabe’s mom, Mrs. Basso,” I motion back and forth.
She eyes him up and down. “Please, call me Wendy,” she says, extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you…Wendy,” Ian says, shaking her hand.
“Alright then, let’s go,” I say to Ian. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Basso. Gabe, let me know if you want the car.” I turn around before either one of them can say anything, heading back to the driver’s side of the blue monster.
“Wait, Maddy!” Gabe calls, jogging over to me.
“What’s up?” I say, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.
“I don’t have your number. Give me your phone,” he demands.
I dig it out of my purse and hand it to him. He programs his number and then calls himself. After he hands it back to me, I see that he stored himself as the ‘Hot Basso Brother’.
“Nice,” I smirk up to him.
“It’s not my fault my brothers got stuck at the shallow end of the gene pool.” He holds his hands out, waiting for me to disagree. I don’t.
We pull out of the driveway from the place that I once considered my home, and I want to cry for all that has happened between me and the Bassos. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let myself get dragged into it again. I see Mrs. Basso giving Gabe the third-degree, probably about why he would show up with me, and I watch him shaking his head back and forth.
“She’s a trip,” Ian says. “What is her problem with you?”
“She used to be nice. I was like a daughter to her,” I say, staring at the road ahead of me.
“What happened?” he asks.