A Real Goode Time Read online

  A Real Goode Time

  Jasinda Wilder

  Contents

  1. Torie

  2. Rhys

  3. Torie

  4. Rhys

  5. Torie

  6. Rhys

  7. Torie

  8. Rhys

  9. Torie

  10. Rhys

  11. Torie

  12. Rhys

  13. Torie

  14. Rhys

  15. Torie

  16. Rhys

  17. Torie

  Epilogue: Poppy

  Coming Soon

  Also by Jasinda Wilder

  Torie

  “Tor, this is stupid.” My roommate, Leighton, was sitting on my bed watching me shove random shit into a backpack. “Just ask your sister for a plane ticket. How far do you think you’re gonna get on three hundred bucks? Jillie and me can manage your part of the rent, and my cousin said she’ll take your room ’til you come back, so that’s no problem. So we’re fine. But three hundred bucks? If you’re lucky, you’ll make it to Cleveland, and that’s a big “if.” You’re a beautiful twenty-year-old girl, Torie. And you’re gonna hitchhike to Alaska?”

  Leighton pretended to talk into her cell phone, “Oh, hi, Mr. Serial Killer. Yes, I’m hitchhiking from New Haven to Alaska all by myself.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Leighton, quit worrying. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re talking as if you’re taking an Uber,” Leighton replied.

  Leighton was somewhat prone to dramatics.

  Short, with short platinum blond hair and blue eyes and a curvy figure I’d kill for, Leighton was a bit of an alarmist and a whole lot of pessimist. She had a black belt in two martial arts, and she’d tried several times to get me to go to classes with her, but I didn’t like the idea. I just wanted to believe that good karma and good luck would be with me. I’d never been mugged, or worse, walking to my car from the restaurant where I worked. When my car gave up the ghost a few months ago, I started biking everywhere. The trip from work to home is two-plus miles each way, and I’ve never had cause for concern.

  Jillie, my other roommate, arrived at that moment—Jillie was the bridge between Leighton and me. Where Leighton was always ready for the worst, and overprepared for everything, I was a little too easygoing, never prepared for anything, and took things as they came. I was tall and thin with jet-black hair and had basically no curves at all. Jillie wasn’t blasé and a procrastinator like me, but she didn’t see the worst in everything like Leighton—she was the epitome of a peacemaker, really—and was medium height, medium build, with brunette hair.

  “You’re really going through with this?” she asked, sitting beside Leighton on my bed.

  “I have to,” I said. “It’s my sister’s wedding. I have to be there.”

  “Yeah, but…just ask them to fly you in. There’s no shame in accepting help from your own family.” Jillie eyed my backpack. “That’s all you’re taking?”

  I sighed and set my backpack down on the floor and sat beside it. “You don’t know what my family is like.”

  Leighton and Jillie both rolled their eyes at me, in near-unison. “Yes, we do,” Leighton said. “We’ve both met your mom, and all your sisters. And they’re nice. They love you. They wouldn’t think twice about flying you up for Lexie’s wedding.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand. They’re all successful. Even my younger sister is more successful than me. I’m such a failure. I can’t even afford a plane ticket for my own sister’s wedding, and it would just kill me to ask them for help.”

  “You’re twenty, Tor. That hardly makes you a failure. You’re just getting started in life.”

  I rolled a shoulder, uncomfortable with this line of conversation. “I hate asking for, or accepting, help. Especially from my sisters. I can figure this out on my own…and I will.”

  “I just don’t know that this is the smartest way to try to get to Alaska,” Jillie said. “It really is asking for trouble.”

  “What she really means is this is fucking idiotic and you’re going to get raped and murdered. We’re going to find out when you’re on the evening news, or worse yet, we won’t find out at all because you’ll just vanish.”

  “Well, shit, Leighton,” I groaned. “Thanks for that.”

  “You can’t just wander out of here and hope good luck and positive thoughts will keep you safe, sweetie,” Leighton said. “Walking, hitchhiking, whatever…is stupid. You’re going to ALASKA, not New York. If you were like, I’m hitchhiking to New York; I’d be like, go girl. But you’re talking about motherfucking ALASKA, clear across the continent, and halfway to the North fucking Pole.”

  I laughed. “It’s not halfway to the North Pole, Ley.”

  “Yeah-huh, it is. Look at a map. From where we are to Alaska, you’re closer to the North Pole than you are the Equator.”

  “Whatever. I’m doing it.” I pawed through my backpack—two pair of jeans tightly rolled, four T-shirts, a sports bra just in case, some shorts for sleeping in, a handful of thongs wadded up into a ball at the bottom, some feminine hygiene products, hairbrush, my phone charger, half my cash rolled up into a rubber band, a pair of sandals, a bath towel, a few pair of socks, some protein bars, a box of mixed nuts in individual snack packs, and my dad’s old Leatherman; I didn’t own any kind of formal wear, so I’d just borrow something from one of my sisters or Mom when I got there. I would wear my heavy boots and a thick hoodie, and the rest of my cash would be in my pocket, along with my license. I had exactly three hundred and twenty-nine dollars to my name and a brand-new passport; I didn’t know you had to have a passport to go to Canada until Mom told me. Luckily, I was able to get a quick turnaround on it. I’d never been anywhere in my life, and having this passport made me realize what a big world we all live in.

  I’d done a Google search on Jillie’s laptop, and a one-way Greyhound ticket from here in New Haven, Connecticut to Columbus, Ohio leaving Friday—tomorrow—would be two hundred and some dollars. It’d be cheaper if I booked farther out, but I wanted to leave tomorrow. That would get me almost halfway across the continent. Maybe in Columbus I could find some work for cash under the table so I could scrounge another ticket.

  For a brief time, I actually thought I could work my way to Alaska…in less than two weeks.

  That may have been one of my more stupid ideas.

  But I was determined to do this on my own. To prove to myself, and to my sisters and my Mom, that I could do things on my own, and that I wasn’t a complete airhead.

  Growing up, I’d been the invisible one. Tagging along with Cassie and her dance friends, or worse, with Poppy and weird band of art class dorks. Or sitting at home, alone, while Lexie and Cassie and Mom were at their various lessons, and Charlie was doing cool, successful oldest golden child stuff, and Poppy was in the studio painting. Yes—we had a studio for her. When it was clear Poppy had real talent and a passion for painting, Dad had built her a “studio” in the backyard. Little more than a garden shed with windows, it was her pride and joy, her favorite place.

  Everyone was always away at school, or at lessons, or with friends, or busy at home with their hobbies and their passions.

  I had none of that, and no special friends. I was always just…there, at home.

  Then, one by one, everyone left home. Charlie for college and life on her own, Cassie for Julliard, Lexie for U-Conn, Poppy for Columbia University, and then finally even Mom left for Alaska. Leaving me alone in New Haven to fend for myself.

  I wasn’t bitter about it, really I wasn’t.

  I finally looked over at my roommates. My best friends. “Guys, look. I…I can’t ask them for help and I won’t. I know this is a little nuts. I do. It’s not like
I’m some naive little girl hoping to find Prince Charming on a magical road trip adventure. I’m not that girl. I have major creep radar, and I don’t trust anyone. I’m not getting in a car with anyone I don’t have a good feeling about. I’ll be okay. I just…I have to do this on my own. I know you don’t really understand, but I hope you can respect my decision.”

  Jillie slid down to sit on the floor across from me. “Of course we understand, Torie. I don’t talk to my family, and Leighton doesn’t have one for all intents and purposes, so we get being independent. But there’s a difference between independence and foolishness. We’re your best friends, Tor. We love you. We just want you to be safe.”

  “I will be.”

  Leighton joined us on the floor. “You just have to call us every day, okay? Promise. You call one or the other of us every single day, no matter what. If you miss a single check-in, we’re calling the police.”

  “Since I’m going across state lines, I think you’d have to call the FBI, and I don’t think they start looking until someone is missing for, like, forty-eight or seventy-two hours.” I zipped up my backpack. “But, yeah, I promise I’ll check in every day.”

  “What time?” Jillie asked.

  I shrugged. “I dunno. Whenever I stop for the day?”

  Leighton shook her head. “It has to be at the same time every day. Like, nine p.m. Eastern. We’re both usually home by then.”

  I nodded. “Okay, nine it is. I’ll group FaceTime you.”

  “Memorize our numbers,” Leighton said. “So if your phone dies, you can borrow someone’s phone.”

  I snorted. “Who memorizes phone numbers anymore?”

  “You do, now.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think I even know my own number by heart, if you want to know the truth.”

  Jillie wasn’t laughing. “You’re always forgetting to charge your phone. And what if you’re, like, not near a charger? You’re doing this with three hundred and thirty dollars, Torie. You gonna get a hotel room? Not likely.”

  “Stop trying to freak me out with details.” I tried to make it a joke, but it fell flat.

  “Details like where you sleep at night and, oh, random shit like not being raped and murdered?”

  “Would you stop with the raped and murdered shit, Ley? For real.” I tossed the backpack to the foot of my bed and flopped onto my back. “I’m going to make it to Ketchikan in one piece, and on time, for my sister’s wedding. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than us,” Jillie said.

  “Maybe a little bit.”

  Leighton lay down beside me, Jillie on the other side. Leighton dug in her jeans pocket, brought out a small Ziploc bag with a single fat green nugget of pot inside. “We’re just as broke as you are, so we can’t give you money, but we went in together to get you this.”

  I took the bag and unzipped a corner. Sniffed. “Ohh, wow. No way! This is from Steelie, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Leighton’s voice was tight.

  “Ley. What’d you do?”

  She pulled out a small glass pipe and a different baggie, pinched a tiny bit off and rolled it between her forefinger and thumb to grind it into the bowl. “Nothing.”

  “Ley.”

  “What?”

  “Steelie’s prices are insane,” I said. “No way you two broke-ass bitches could afford this.”

  Steelie was our neighbor who lived one house over. He grew and sold some of the best pot in the whole New Haven area. One smell and you knew it was his crop. Sticky, potent, fragrant. And expensive as hell. One nugget of this size from Steelie was worth at least thirty bucks. And when you’re living life on the edge of broke, that’s too much for an extra like pot. We usually got ours from Mario, a dishwasher at the bar where Jillie worked, and it was…well…of far inferior quality, and thus much cheaper.

  Leighton just shrugged again. “I cleaned his house. That’s it.”

  “Promise?” I looked at her sideways.

  Leighton had been on her own since she was sixteen and had, in the past, been known to do some shady shit to get by, accounting for her general outlook on life.

  She nodded, meeting my eyes—I saw honesty there. “I’m telling the truth. I cleaned his house and let me tell you, he got the deal. I did way more than thirty bucks worth of work just on his bathroom. The dude grows good herb, but he’s a fucking slob.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “But thank you.”

  She handed me the bowl and a lighter. “I got that nugget, and an extra pinch, which is what’s in there.” She grinned at me. “Call it a going away present.”

  “I’m coming back,” I said. “It’s not goodbye.”

  Leighton shook her head. “No, this is goodbye. I can feel it in my nuggets.”

  I laughed—one of our favorite movies to watch stoned was Surf’s Up, an animated movie about a surfing penguin, and she’d just quoted one of our favorite lines.

  “I’m coming back,” I insisted. “Soon as the wedding is over.”

  “Light it up, Tor,” Jillie said, and I did, taking a long hit then handing it to Leighton. “I agree with Ley. This feels like goodbye.”

  “It’s not goodbye,” I said, after exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

  “Your whole family is there,” Leighton said, holding the smoke in. She exhaled, speaking around the plume of smoke. “Why would you come back here when everyone you know and love is there?”

  “You guys are here,” I said.

  Jillie took the pipe from Leighton, hit it, and handed it to me. “That’s sweet, babe, but we’re your roommates. They’re your family.”

  “You’re like family, though.”

  “Just…” Leighton sighed. “Just remember that we love you and we’ll miss you, but we know you’re staying in Ketchikan, so when you have that argument with yourself, remind yourself that we already know you’re staying, so don’t worry about us.”

  I frowned at her. “I think that made sense. Maybe.”

  “Shut up, you know what I mean.” She laughed. “Shit, Steelie’s stuff is potent.”

  “That’s why he named it Sledgehammer,” Jillie said. “But I know what Leighton means, Tor. Just keep in mind that you have our blessing to move to Ketchikan to be with your family.”

  “I don’t want to move to fucking Alaska,” I said, sighing. “They all left me here, so I’m staying here.”

  Leighton and Jillie exchanged glances over me.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “I just don’t think you’ve ever admitted that in so many words,” Leighton said.

  There was enough left for one more hit each, and then Leighton put her pipe away and we all lay on the floor, floating pleasantly.

  “Admit what?” I asked, after a comically long delay.

  Jillie snorted a laugh. “That you’re bitter about being left here.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. “Ohhh. Wow. Yeah, you’re right. I guess maybe that’s why I’m being such a pain in the ass about this trip up there.”

  “At least you can admit you’re being a pain in the ass about it,” Leighton said.

  “It would be much easier if my stupid pride would let me just call Lex for a plane ticket. Shit, I think her fiancé has his own jet. He could pick me up in style. But nooo, I have to be all miss independent and shit.” I groaned. “I don’t know how to make it make sense to you guys…or even to myself. I just…I have to do it on my own.”

  “I guess just look at it as, like, a spirit journey or something,” Jillie suggested.

  “I’m not Native American,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe it’s a gap year then,” Leighton said.

  “What? A gap year from not going to college?”

  “Okay, well, whatever. You’re doing it the stupid way, and we’ve done everything we can as your friends to get you to be smart about this. But I ran away from home at sixteen and I made it all right. Jillie was homel
ess for a whole year, and she’s okay. So I suppose you’ll probably be fine. Just check in every night at nine, no excuses.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  “Have you told Max?” Jillie asked, a few minutes later.

  I groaned. “Shit. No, I haven’t.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I dunno, I probably should, but I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks,” I said.

  “Are you ever going to sleep with him?” Leighton said.

  “No, but I bet he wishes I would.”

  Jillie rolled to lay on her side, head propped on her hand. “Why won’t you?”

  I shrugged. “It was never going to be Max. I’ve known him since second grade. I know we, like, mess around, but it’s…I want to say platonic, but that’s not quite right. It’s fun. It’s messing around. But I’m not sleeping with him. If I was going to, I would have done it a long time ago.”

  “That’s a weird situation, I have to say.” Leighton rolled onto her belly and stared at me. “So, random question.”

  I laughed, because her random questions when stoned were usually good ones. “Okay, shoot.”

  “So, would you ever say you and Max were dating?”

  “No. No way.”

  “And you never will?”

  “Nope.”

  She smirked at me. “So if I were to admit that I think he’s cute, and that I have little crush on him…what would you say?”

  “Ley, are you serious?”

  “You’re leaving.” She shrugged. “I’d never do anything with him if you said it would bother you. I just think he’s cute.”

  “He is cute,” I said. I considered her questions. “But he’s my best friend. Not in the same way you guys are my best friends. It’s different. He’s my oldest friend, I guess that’s more accurate. But…if you were to date him, you’d sleep with him. And that would be kind of weird.”