Page 13 of The Bad Girl List

“You want me to go out on the anniversary of Elle’s death to help you get laid?”

“When you say it like that, I sound like a total fucktard.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Look, I know you hate hearing it, but you do need to get out once in a while. I’m not trying to be like Dad and tell you to get back to how things were before Elle died. But don’t you think she’d like you to smile when you think about her, instead of getting shit-faced drunk by yourself with your three-legged dog? I mean, shit, Trev, you can miss her and still go for a night out at the old-timers’ bar with your brother.”

I take a moment to absorb that as I think ahead to what I want to drink next. There’s a good wine list at Zeke’s. “When you say it like that, I’m the one who sounds like a fucktard.”

“Technically, you are a drunk-ass fucktard.”

“It’s Passport weekend. There will be too many people out tonight.”

“It’s Zeke’s, bro. Tourists don’t go there. It’s not fancy enough for them. Besides, you have a lot of good memories of Elle at Zeke’s. Remember that pool tournament we had for her twenty-first birthday?”

I almost crack a smile. Almost. “Shit, Elle was so wasted.” When it was her turn at the pool table, Macarena had come on the jukebox. Elle got up on the table and started kicking the pool balls in with her feet while she executed a perfect Macarena. It was even adorable when she tripped and fell off the side, but only because I’d been there to catch her.

“You’re smiling,” Thomas says.

“Maybe a little.”

“Come on, fucktard. Get your shoes. We’re going to Zeke’s.”

CHAPTER 5

Zeke’s

DOMINIQUE

By the time Annika and I pull into Healdsburg, our home in wine country for the next ten days, it’s past dinner time.

We were supposed to be here several hours ago, but Annika insisted on stopping for dim sum on the way out of Frisco. That wouldn’t have been so bad if we’d known about the Spring Festival parade scheduled in Chinatown. It took us two hours to get out of the city. The good news is that I’m dressed in my favorite cargo pants, so at least I’ve been comfy for the long ride.

When I get a new job, I want to find one where I can wear comfortable clothing.

“The aunties are never going to let us hear the end of this,” I say. “I bet they ate dinner without us.”

“Of course they ate dinner without us,” Annika replies. “They have no sympathy for those with poor time management. We’ll have to heat up the leftovers. Did Auntie Helen send you the ten-day menu?”

“She did. Hold on.” I tap my phone and pull up the email. The aunties take planning and organizing to levels the Pentagon would envy. “Okay, found it. Tonight is spaghetti with spam.”

Annika and I giggle in perfect unison. Spaghetti with spam is a Chen family staple. Neither of us would ever admit to eating it in public, but we secretly love it.

“Spam spaghetti,” Annika says. “Add in a little lecture on time management, and we’ve got a typical beginning of the annual Chen girls’ trip.”

We follow the GPS through town. Healdsburg is a quaint little town in Sonoma County wine country. It’s a patchwork of bed and breakfasts, chic hotels, adorable bungalows, boutique shopping, and wineries.

As Annika and I wind our way through the quiet streets, it becomes clear to us that our VRBO is nowhere near the chic downtown. The map takes us to a section of very plain, very dated housing tracts from the eighties on the northeast side of town.

“Leave it to the aunties to pick an eighties track home for our vacation rental,” Annika grumbles. “We could have stayed in a B-&-B or one of those adorable bungalows downtown by all the shopping.”

“I’m sure they got a screaming deal on this rental, though,” I point out.

“Only our family dedicates their life to hard work and earning money, then does everything on the cheap and actively avoids spending what they’ve worked so hard for.”

“That’s called good finances, Annika.”

“That’s called not enjoying life.” She pulls to a stop in front of a dingy brown, single-story house with a front yard overgrown with cypress bushes. “God, just look at this place. It looks like a crack den from the eighties. I bet there are rats living in those bushes.”

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