Page 78 of Good For Me

“Thinking what?” I whisper back.

“That you have no idea how someone as deeply uncool as him became an internationally renowned rock star.”

“I heard that, kid,” Cash says, reaching into the pantry again. “And just for that, you’re wearing thespecialapron.”

A laugh bursts from me when River begrudgingly ties it on. Every inch of the fabric is covered in fist-sized pictures of Cash’s face.

River sighs as he finishes with the tie. “I deserve this,” he admits. “I know better than to call Uncle Cash uncool.”

“Damn straight,” Cash says.

“Do I get a fun apron?” I ask.

Cash studies me for a second, a thoughtful look on his face. “Jas, I think you’re a dancing banana kind of girl.” He pulls a neon orange apron from the pantry. It’s covered in—you guessed it—dancing cartoon bananas.

I raise an eyebrow as I look it over. “Sorry, what is it about me that screams dancing bananas?”

Cash shrugs. “It’s an essence thing. Something about your aura. I can’t really explain it. I justknow.”

“Just put the damn apron on, Jas, or we’re going to be standing here all morning,” River mutters.

Laughing, I take it from Cash. I should probably be weirded out by this whole thing—River wasn’t joking when he called his uncle an internationally renowned rock star. I’m not a Ransom expert, but I’m pretty sure Cash was the big ladies’ man of the group back in the day. This is a person whose face is currently gracing a giant billboard right by my school exit on the 404.

But as I settle into the act of cracking eggs and scrambling them, I decide that this doesn’t feel weird at all. Not even when the other three famous Ransome brothers, and several of their kids, drift into the kitchen to help us.

It’s because of River, I realize. Here with his family, he seems about at ease as I’ve ever seen him. It’s hard to think about things like fame and magazine covers when I’m here with him.

And just as I’m feeling all these soft, squishy thoughts about him, he has to go and sell me out.

Someone had turned some music on, a classic rock playlist filling the kitchen. When an AC/DC song begins, River’s dad starts to sing along, one of his brothers joining in a few measures later.

River looks at me over the counter where I’m mixing pancake batter. “This playlist okay with you?” he asks, his voice innocent. But I see the way his eyes are flashing with mischief. His voice is louder than it needs to be—loud enough for everyone else in the room to hear, too. “I know you’re not a big fan of rock music.”

If this were a movie, that record scratch sound effect definitely would have been used here. Pretty much every head in the kitchen turns in my direction, varying levels of shock and horror on their faces.

“You don’t like rock music?” Cash splutters.

“Who the hell doesn’t like rock music?” Daltrey asks.

Cash turns to River, looking incredulous. “You brought a girl here who doesn’t likerock music?”

“Oh, God.” Will puts a hand over his mouth and gapes at me. “Please tell me you’re not into country.”

I glare at River, who has a huge grin on his face. “I never said I didn’t like rock music.”

“I distinctly remember you saying—”

“I said I’m not intoclassicrock.”

The tallest one—Reed, I think—crosses his arms. “So what kind of music do you like?”

“You don’t have to answer that, Jas,” Rose says, shoving her uncle. “Don’t let them bully you.”

“I let this girl wear my second favorite apron,” Cash argues. “I think I deserve to know if she’s a closet bubblegum pop fan.”

“Oh my God,” Rose says, rolling her eyes. “They’re all insane. Ignore them.”

But I’m not afraid of these guys, international rock stars or not. “I mostly listen to EDM,” I say, not dropping eye contact with Cash. “Trance and House stuff in particular but I dig any kind of EDM or techno.”