But I appreciate the chance to finally catch up on so many movies I’d heard about but never seen. It’s somehow easily both the wildest and most relaxing vacation I’ve ever taken.
Our unexpectedly cozy time together hits a speed bump on Christmas Eve after dinner, though.
“Uh-oh, we’ve run out of both whiskey and bourbon," I tell him when I go to the wet bar to make the drinks for our usual after-dinner session. Tonight’s scheduled film is a Will Ferrell movie I’ve actually seen before, Elf.
Griff’s just settled on the couch after lighting a joint, but he hops right back up. “On it. Dad’s got a couple of bottles of Glendaver stashed away in his office.”
“Oh, Glendaver . . .” I’ve grown so relaxed with Griff that I actually open my mouth to tell him about my Auntie Minerva—the one who’s worked for the Glendaver family for decades and practically raised their two daughters. But then I remember that’s a Boring Bernice detail. One that could lead to questions about who I really am.
Luckily, Griff disappears down the hallway before I can let my Auntie Minerva detail slip. He’s a man on a total mission.
I pull out my phone to pass the time while I wait for his return.
Big mistake. Several messages from Kiki blanket the screen.
She’s having a lot of trouble accepting that I’m truly not coming to Nashville for Christmas. She’s only ever known Boring Bernice. Always dependable. Always where she wants me to be when she expects me to be there. Half the time, she doesn’t even bother to invite me to stuff. She just tells me the time and place, knowing I’ll show up early to help her set up because that’s what I’ve always done.
I can tell she’s truly alarmed by my supposed decision to “take on some extra shifts at work” this week instead of spending the holidays with her, Colin, and their baby. Alarmed and probably a little hurt.
My stomach tightens with guilt. And that guilt only becomes worse when I see all the additional messages from Allie, asking if it’s true what Candy told her about me going off with some Reaper and wanting assurances that I’m all right.
ALLIE: If this is really you, where did we first meet, and what did we bond over?
ME: At the vending machine in our medical complex’s lobby. There was only one package of Twizzlers left, so we split it. Lol! I’m totally fine. But thanks for double-checking.
I smile at the fond memory after hitting send on that reply. But there’s still the million messages from Kiki to deal with—the messages I’m not ready to answer yet.
Am I losing my mind?
I think that possibility is what’s made me hesitant to tell Griff my news all day.
Where was Griff, anyway? It shouldn’t take this long to fetch a couple of bottles of bourbon.
The tendency toward snoopiness that I inherited from my pastor’s wife grandma makes me put the phone down. Instead of texting Kiki back, I peek down the hallway. The door between the guest room Griff gave me and the primary bedroom has been locked since day one of my stay here. I know because I checked a few times.
But it’s open now.
I don’t intentionally try to creep up to the newly opened door. But I guess that snoop gene really does run too deep because that’s exactly what I end up doing.
Griff doesn’t hear me coming—not until I let out a loud gasp when I discover the secret he’s been keeping from me.
CHAPTER 11
GRIFF
“What the . . . ?” Red says behind me. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me the entire time I’ve been here!”
I freeze with the stack of G-Latham CDs I pulled from my dad’s collection clutched to my chest.
I should have closed the door behind me. Should have locked it too. I’d just been so surprised to find my two albums and three mixtapes in compact disc form in my dad’s collection. He claimed to hate the kind of music I put out.
“A bastardization, if you ask me. Both country and rap deserve better.”
That’s what he told me the last time we were in the same room at Thanksgiving. And years later, he was still pissed off that I’d signed with Big Hill’s rival, Stone River, after Geoff refused to give me a contract. So pissed that a few months ago he invited me to join his latest venture, AudioNation, as the head of A&R, just to get me to stop making music.
At least that’s what I'd thought.
I stared at the CDs for way too long, trying to figure out what their presence in my father’s highly curated album collection meant. Then I realized I would have to hide this unexpected evidence of my real identity if I wanted to keep my situation with Red going.