Page 82 of My Grape Crush
“When?”
Nicole slides my untouched glass of water in front of me. I take measured sips, feeling a deep urge to hug her. I bet she and Dad would’ve been besties back in the day—ruthless, focused, miserable even in victory.
“Soon?”
She taps my knee once more. “Commit. That’s the only way it happens. For your father, your brother. And Dani.”
With her tender smile, my breath steadies. Life is never about easy answers or a single magical fix. Nothing happens without trying.
But what should I do about Dani?
The door suddenly flies open, and Evelyn swans in, abuzz with energy. But she skids to a stop, shy of the doorway. The heaviness of our conversation lingers like sludge in the air.
“Oh, dear,” she says. “Am I interrupting anything?” Her gaze flicks to Nicole, who silently conveys with a nod that it’s cool.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
Evelyn insisted on hugs from day one, and I like the old bird, so we embrace. Decked out in an all-black Adidas tennis outfit with nails painted gold, she’s rocking the ‘tude.
“You’ll never guess who I saw at the Home Hardware,” she rolls a third stool over to start the gossip train, “with what looked like a stripper hanging on his arm! Honest to God, women these days try to get away with wearing nothing. So déclassé.”
Nicole chuckles. “Our old friend Tomas at it again?” To me, she says, “He latches onto every piece of fresh tourist meat in town. The younger the better.”
“Thank goodness he didn’t see me,” Evelyn huffs. “Too enamored with the boobs spilling off Miss Russia.”
A thought flickers at the back of my mind, the briefest thing. But I shelve it for now.
“Is he the one giving you grief?” I ask. “Dani said he was stirring up shit at the meeting the other night.”
Evelyn grumbles, “That’s him. The pride of Osoyoos. And then,” she continues, “I dropped in to visit that battle ax, Gail. She gives two hoots about Tomas and his attempts at character assassination. Droned on and on about how the community is pushing her to clamp down on Nero Vino and Divine Debauchery.” She glances at me. “Mind you, she and Dani didn’t see eye to eye the other day. About your following descending like locusts.”
“How is Dani?” I ask, trying for casual. “I haven’t seen her today.”
“Horrible!” she exclaims. “Poor thing has food poisoning but powering through the day.”
With a knowing glance in my direction, Nicole says, “Must be something in the water.”
“What?” Evelyn’s head is on a swivel, eyes darting back and forth between us. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I think it’s just a twenty-four-hour bug,” I lie.
Nicole and Evelyn share a loaded look. These ladies aren’t stupid. My mystery illness is a condition called “heartsick.”
What guts me is that Dani lied about something so basic. Half of my followers are women. I mean, fair, no need to gush on and on about me, but her lie points to one thing. She knew about Amelia. That’s what cratered my heart so completely. It left me in knots after I bailed from her place. I knew I recognized Amelia’s voice over the phone, but what were the odds of those two being related?
And if they are as close as Dani said they were, how could she not know?
Also, that look at Yvette’s called her bluff.
I suddenly feel so tired. Of pretending I have everything under control, that the baseline for normalcy is everyone dazzled by a guy who plays it cool on camera but is a flailing hot mess, terrified he’s lost the very heart of his essence with zero ideas on how to recapture it.
If there was ever the time for an existential dice roll.
I clear my throat, weirdly nervous. “Is it cool if I take off for the city next Friday?” I ask Evelyn. “I’ll be back Sunday night.”
“Of course!” she says without hesitation. “The weekends are yours. And with your fans creating chaos in town, it might be wise to escape. Can you create a fake post about a trip to Calgary? Something to dislodge them from their makeshift camp?”
“I can get an old colleague on their case,” Nicole chimes in.“Scare them off with some threats and legalese.”
