LA. Together. Wait till you see it—we've got this big touring bus with SMD plastered all across the side. Almost as inconspicuous as this car. We're supposed to be bonding."
"But…" I start.
"I know! We've been a team for the past five years. And some of us for years before that, on Saturday Morning Kids . You'd think we'd have bonded by now if we were going to, right? Anyway." Rory sighs. "It doesn't matter. Let's not talk about that right now. I'm even over talking about it, which is all Dad ever wants to do—talk, talk, talk, talk, talk."
"Mmm," I answer, really uncomfortable with how all this is going. Rory is acting… very un-Rory-like. Kind of hyper and odd. And I can't remember a time she actually told me she didn't want to discuss something before. Maybe now's not the best time to bring up the fake boyfriend?
"Hey, we're almost there. Only one more set of lights. The owner is really sweet. He lets me park in the back so the car's hidden away, which I totally love him for."
We pull up at the set of lights Rory mentioned , and she points across the road. "It's over there."
I'm craning my neck to see the shop she's pointing to when I'm distracted by a tapping on my right-hand side. When I check to see what's going on, the guy from the lane next to us is holding a piece of paper up to the window.
"Is that his cell number?" I say, not believing my eyes.
Rory glances over. "Well, I doubt it's his IQ," she says, unimpressed. "It's about eight numbers too long."
I take a second look. "He's, um, pretty cute. And so is his friend."
Rory takes a second look as well now. "Maybe. If you like that kind of thing. Not my type, though."
"What's your type?" I ask her.
"Guys who don't pick me up at the lights."
I laugh at this. "Not all of us can be so choosy. I'm not lucky enough to have a 'type.’"
Rory becomes a tad more animated on hearing this and twists around in her seat, her hands still gripping the wheel. "Wait. What are you saying? Are you into boys now? My little cousin is into boys?"
"I was always into boys. They just weren't into me. Or aren't into me. Or don't know I exist. Or something."
"What? You can't be serious. Guys don't like you? I don't believe it." She frowns.
I think about this for a second. "Well, maybe that's not fair. I don't ever actually get to meet any boys, guys, you know—members of the opposite sex. Maybe a few at dance workshops and stuff, but they're pretty few and far between. It's mostly girls who go to those."
Rory gets an expression on her face then. One I've seen before—one that generally means we're about to do something that could get us into a lot of trouble, but we'll be sure to have a good time doing it. This is a girl hell-bent on looking for distraction. "Well, how about it, then? Want to meet some?"
I glance over at the two guys then back at Rory. "Them?"
"Yes, them. I think they might be willing. You know how I can tell? Because they're holding up a cell number to the window."
"Very funny." I throw her a withering look.
"Well?" Rory's waiting for my answer. "What'll it be? Yes or no?"
"Um, yes? Maybe? I don't know?"
"Oh, for goodness sake." Rory leans over me now and points out the juice bar we're going to, then gestures for the guys to follow us.
And then, as the lights change to green, they do.
* * *
"Your mom would kill me if she knew what we're up to," Rory tells me as she pulls up behind the juice bar. "I don't think this is exactly her idea of 'laying low.’"
"I'm not going to tell her," I say, getting out of the car. "Are you?" I look over the top of the car at my cousin.
"Are you kidding? Not likely. However bad things are at work, I still value my life. Here…." She throws something at me and I catch it just in time. It's an LA Lakers cap. "Put it on. You won't regret it."
"Okay. If you say so." I pull it on as I follow Rory around the side of the strip of shops to the front of the juice bar.
"I can't see them anywhere," I say as I take
"But…" I start.
"I know! We've been a team for the past five years. And some of us for years before that, on Saturday Morning Kids . You'd think we'd have bonded by now if we were going to, right? Anyway." Rory sighs. "It doesn't matter. Let's not talk about that right now. I'm even over talking about it, which is all Dad ever wants to do—talk, talk, talk, talk, talk."
"Mmm," I answer, really uncomfortable with how all this is going. Rory is acting… very un-Rory-like. Kind of hyper and odd. And I can't remember a time she actually told me she didn't want to discuss something before. Maybe now's not the best time to bring up the fake boyfriend?
"Hey, we're almost there. Only one more set of lights. The owner is really sweet. He lets me park in the back so the car's hidden away, which I totally love him for."
We pull up at the set of lights Rory mentioned , and she points across the road. "It's over there."
I'm craning my neck to see the shop she's pointing to when I'm distracted by a tapping on my right-hand side. When I check to see what's going on, the guy from the lane next to us is holding a piece of paper up to the window.
"Is that his cell number?" I say, not believing my eyes.
Rory glances over. "Well, I doubt it's his IQ," she says, unimpressed. "It's about eight numbers too long."
I take a second look. "He's, um, pretty cute. And so is his friend."
Rory takes a second look as well now. "Maybe. If you like that kind of thing. Not my type, though."
"What's your type?" I ask her.
"Guys who don't pick me up at the lights."
I laugh at this. "Not all of us can be so choosy. I'm not lucky enough to have a 'type.’"
Rory becomes a tad more animated on hearing this and twists around in her seat, her hands still gripping the wheel. "Wait. What are you saying? Are you into boys now? My little cousin is into boys?"
"I was always into boys. They just weren't into me. Or aren't into me. Or don't know I exist. Or something."
"What? You can't be serious. Guys don't like you? I don't believe it." She frowns.
I think about this for a second. "Well, maybe that's not fair. I don't ever actually get to meet any boys, guys, you know—members of the opposite sex. Maybe a few at dance workshops and stuff, but they're pretty few and far between. It's mostly girls who go to those."
Rory gets an expression on her face then. One I've seen before—one that generally means we're about to do something that could get us into a lot of trouble, but we'll be sure to have a good time doing it. This is a girl hell-bent on looking for distraction. "Well, how about it, then? Want to meet some?"
I glance over at the two guys then back at Rory. "Them?"
"Yes, them. I think they might be willing. You know how I can tell? Because they're holding up a cell number to the window."
"Very funny." I throw her a withering look.
"Well?" Rory's waiting for my answer. "What'll it be? Yes or no?"
"Um, yes? Maybe? I don't know?"
"Oh, for goodness sake." Rory leans over me now and points out the juice bar we're going to, then gestures for the guys to follow us.
And then, as the lights change to green, they do.
* * *
"Your mom would kill me if she knew what we're up to," Rory tells me as she pulls up behind the juice bar. "I don't think this is exactly her idea of 'laying low.’"
"I'm not going to tell her," I say, getting out of the car. "Are you?" I look over the top of the car at my cousin.
"Are you kidding? Not likely. However bad things are at work, I still value my life. Here…." She throws something at me and I catch it just in time. It's an LA Lakers cap. "Put it on. You won't regret it."
"Okay. If you say so." I pull it on as I follow Rory around the side of the strip of shops to the front of the juice bar.
"I can't see them anywhere," I say as I take
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