Page 22 of Jagger

“So what’sit like being in high school again after a decade?” I ask Vida later that night.

About thirty minutes after I left her office, she asked me to meet her at Johnny Rockets. Guess Friday wasn’t gonna cut it after riling her up.

“For the most part? Oddly enough the same, only with granted authority. Not that all of them give a crap,” she chuckles, shaking her head.

“You mean, they all don’t fall in line after a firm look from that baby face?”

Vida tosses a french fry at me. “Shut up!”

“It’s a compliment, baby—take it. You don’t look a day over twenty-one.”

“And that’s the problem—I need them to take me seriously, especially the seniors. Sure, they confide in me because ‘I’m cool enough to understand them,’ but warnings and all that go in through one ear and out the other.”

“So don’t play the cool card,” I counter, taking a bite from my half-eaten burger.

“I don’t do it purposely! Most of them know I’m only ten years their senior which, evidently, gives me the cool card by default.” She rolls her eyes, lips pursed at the notion.

I’m about to respond when my phone vibes on the table. Both Vida and I cut our eyes to the screen.

Calla: I need a huge favor…

Wonderful.

I sigh. Just the sight of her name immediately puts a dent in my mood, but judging the text preview, it doesn’t seem to be related to Mila.

Therefore, she can fucking wait.

“Answer her,” Vida encourages, offering a shrug at my curious brow. “It may be important.”

“I doubt it. Probably needs a loan or something. She can wait.” I wave her off, but her small hand falls to my wrist, jeweled eyes seeking me out.

“Answer her. It’s okay.” She smiles.

Resigned, I wipe my hands clean and type out a quick response. I refuse to waste my time with Vida on her.

Me: What’s that?

Three little bubbles instantly pop up on my screen. They disappear just a quickly, then re-appear again. Her reply comes through shortly after.

Calla: Chrissy’s mother-in-law was just diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer and she’s refusing any sort of treatment. It’s aggressive. They’re giving her months, if that. Brett’s leaving tonight, but Chrissy can’t get the time off, so she’s driving up there Friday after work. I’d like to go with her, but it’s too long of a drive for Mila and a grim situation I don’t want her around. I was wondering if she could spend the weekend with you since you’re off?

I feel my jaw drop as I read and re-read the last part of her message. Her sister’s mother-in-law receiving such a ghastly diagnosis is terrible, but I can’t get past what I’m seeing at the end.

Is this real-fucking-life?

“Is everything okay?” Vida asks across from me, clearly alarmed at stunned expression.

“She…” I glance up at her. “She asked if Mila could spend the weekend.”

Green eyes widen. She knows somewhat about Calla and our situation, hence her reaction. I nod in agreement, my thumbs moving over the keyboard of their accord.

Me: You’re really asking me?

Calla: I mean, you’re her father… I’d ask my mom but she’s on vacation with her girlfriends.

Me: No, I mean do you really think you need to ask me? I’ve been trying to get you to let me have her for a full weekend since she was born. Of course she can stay with me.

Me: I’m sorry to hear about Chrissy’s MIL, by the way. She’s a sweet woman. So sad.

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