Taking the Leap (River Rain 3)

“You can imagine, for the majority of them, they’re where they are because of parental issues,” I’d told him. “And the truth of the matter is that the majority of that is absent or abusive fathers. So a big, built guy is already a natural threat. One who cares is something they may have little experience with. So you’re overwhelming on two fronts, physically and emotionally.”

I watched, and I’ll admit I did it with fascination, as Rix took this in, sifted through it and had a myriad of reactions to it, being angry, interested, pensive and clearly cataloging it for future encounters.

We’d gone on to talk about Trail Blazer, going deep because Rix invited, “Say we don’t have five hundred million, say we have five hundred billion, what would you do?”

That idea was so fantastic, but so awesome, and I had so much swirling in my head, I went crazy, giving it all to him.

He was right there with me the whole time, listening, and sharing his take, his thoughts, the things he’d like to see from Trail Blazer.

Then we went off on tangents, creating crazy schemes that would save the world (well, Rix didn’t do so much of this, but the way he smiled a lot, chuckled a lot and often out-and-out laughed egged me on to do it).

It was fun.

I was having fun with Rix Hendrix.

Though, it wasn’t all about CTB and Trail Blazer.

I’d learned the super cool story that his parents met in college in Kansas, went on a couple of dates, didn’t think it’d go anywhere, so that was the end of that. They’d then miraculously both ended up in Flagstaff, where they ran into each other again. Either taking the hint from the cosmos or being older and wiser and knowing more what they wanted, their couple status took hold that time, and now they’d been married for forty years.

Rix had been born and raised in Flagstaff, the second of two sons. His brother Joshua (and Rix shared, he was known only as Josh, like Rix was known only as Rix, which, of course meant Rix admitted he often called him Joshua), got married in the summer of last year. Seven months later, he and his wife Hailey gave Rix’s parents their first grandkid, a girl, Kinsley (who heartmeltingly sounded like the apple of her uncle’s eye). And on a recent phone conversation, Josh had shared with Rix that they were considering it was time to think about number two.

On my side of things, Rix had learned Blake was older than me (she was thirty, I was twenty-eight, which led to the knowledge that Rix was thirty-four, but next month, the week before we’d be going to NYC, he’d turn thirty-five). She was my only sibling. My parents were divorced, and didn’t get along, before and after their marriage.

We dug no deeper than that.

However, I had filled him in with the details Cathy sent me about the wedding itinerary, which included an indication that Mum and Dad were one-upping each other, because Mum was hosting a brunch on the Thursday before the Friday rehearsal/rehearsal dinner. And therefore Dad was hosting a cocktail party on the Wednesday evening.

“This means,” I shared with Rix, “Mum planned her brunch first, and then, not to be shown up, Dad decided to do a cocktail party, and ever since, they’ve been escalating hostilities. I know this because, for some reason, it’s strongly encouraged for the women to wear a hat to brunch, and the cocktail party is formal.”

“Well, shit,” Rix muttered.

Shit was correct.

“But you don’t have to show for those,” I told him. “You can fly in on Friday or Saturday sometime. The wedding isn’t until five.”

“I’m in all the way, babe,” had been his reply.

This was belly-fluttering, though it was also convenient, as it meant we didn’t have to have a discussion about who would pay for his ticket. If he was in all the way, then he could fly on Dad’s plane with me.

I didn’t tell him that.

The more intimate, and frightening, details could come later.

During our “deep research.”

The truth was, the night had been so fun, and surprisingly easy, when we walked together up to our rooms, and Rix walked me to my door, which was only one door down from his, but he still did it, and I looked up at him to say goodnight, part of me expected him to dip down and touch his lips to mine.

Because, yes, the night had seemed like a date.

Of course, the instant I had that thought, it flipped me out, so I dropped my keycard.

That meant instead of a touch of his lips on mine, I got a different touch.

His palm in my chest before he stated, “Don’t go for it. I’m getting it. We got work to do, we both don’t need concussions.”