Crush (Crash 3)

“Indie, that’s an everyday holiday in my life,” I said, selecting the seat as far away from Anton as I could.

Holly lifted her beer and clanked it against mine. “Amen, sister.”

“Can I sit next to you, Aunt Luce?” LJ asked, squirming up beside me.

“It’s all right with me if it’s all right with your mom.”

“Mom? Is it all right?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said, cutting LJ’s enchilada into bite-size pieces.

Thomas dished everyone an enchilada before taking his seat across from Anton. “So what’s your story, Anton?” he asked. “Other than being an A-S-S?”

Anton chuckled. “I’ll save you the details, since it’s a pretty boring one.”

“I doubt that,” Thomas said around a bite of enchilada. “I mean, how can a guy named Anton, who is next in line to run a multimillion-dollar company, not to mention a guy who can seriously tick Lucy Larson off, have a boring story? It’s impossible.”

I dived into my dinner, hoping that if I had a mouthful of food I wouldn’t fire off anything that was better kept to myself.

“Trust me, it’s about as exciting as French vanilla ice cream.”

I choked on my food. Seriously choked.

LJ stood up in his chair and gave my back a few whacks while I sipped some apple juice. When I looked up from my choking incident, everyone was staring at me.

“What?” I said, expressing my thanks to LJ with a smile. “I’ve always found French vanilla to be rather exciting. That’s all.”

“Do you think the psych unit is closed for the night?” India mumbled.

I scowled at her as I contemplated if eating my dinner was going to be more dangerous than not eating it.

“Since my big brother’s having this rare moment of modesty, I’ll give you the four-one-one on Anton Shaft Xavier.”

“Wait.” Thomas waved his fork. “Your middle name is Shaft?”

Anton shrugged. “Our parents are huge Shaft fans.”

Thomas clapped his hands, clearly in awe. “There is no conceivable way your life story is boring with a middle name like Shaft.”

“The only person whose life story is more exciting is mine,” India said, taking a swig of her beer. “Okay. So ASX in a nutshell . . . which is strangely ironic, since it’s very close to A-S-S.” She grinned like this was a revelation. “He was the captain of his lacrosse team back in high school. Was student body president his senior year. Dated every cheerleader on the squad by the time he turned eighteen.” Anton sighed, and grabbed India’s beer before she could stop him. He took a long swig. “He got a scholarship to Dartmouth, graduated summa cum laude, went to the Olympic trials for the lacrosse team; he summited K2 three years ago, sailed across the Atlantic on his own two years ago, and one year ago he lost his fiancée.”

Anton choked on his beer. A lot of choking going on tonight. “Shit, India,” he said, before Holly leveled a look at him. “I mean, S-H-I-T, India.”

“What do you mean, he lost his fiancée?” Thomas asked, leaning forward. “Like, one day he woke up and couldn’t find her?”

Anton lifted his hand. “Let’s just drop—”

“No, like ‘one day he woke up and got the call she’d been killed in a car accident’ lost her,” India explained.

“S-H-I-T.” Anton sighed, shaking his head at India.

I felt a little sick. Sick to my stomach and sick in the head. Anton had been engaged and she’d died. Recently. I never would have guessed Mr. Too-smooth-for-his-own-good had such a tragic past. Anton seemed more like the friends-with-benefits kind of guy, not the put-a-ring-on-it kind of guy.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked India. She’d shared about every other personal detail of her life with me. I didn’t understand how she’d forget to mention this one.

“Anton didn’t want me telling the whole world about it,” she said.

“Which obviously worked out fantastically,” he said, keeping his glare aimed her way.

“What?” she said. “It’s been a year, Anton. I know it’s not something you forget, but I’d like to think it’s something you’ll eventually move on from.”

“As fun as this conversation is,” he said, smiling tightly, “think we could drop it and move on to topics that don’t involve death and fiancées?”

India huffed, apparently not ready to drop it just yet. Whether it was sympathy or empathy or some combination of the two, I spoke up.

“Anyone seen any good movies lately?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I haven’t seen one in forever and I have no clue what’s playing. I’m thinking of taking Jude to one when he’s in town.”

“So much for not talking about fiancés . . .”

“So help me God, India,” I seethed. “I will put you in time-out and leave you there all night if you don’t take it down a notch. Or three.”

“I’ll let you borrow my spot if you want,” LJ piped up, pointing to the stool in the corner he’d spent some hard time sitting in.

“Give me some love,” India said, extending her fist at LJ. “You’re like my brother in crime.”

LJ bumped her fist with one of his own, and then India went back to her dinner, looking like she was planning on staying silent for a while.

o;Indie, that’s an everyday holiday in my life,” I said, selecting the seat as far away from Anton as I could.

Holly lifted her beer and clanked it against mine. “Amen, sister.”

“Can I sit next to you, Aunt Luce?” LJ asked, squirming up beside me.

“It’s all right with me if it’s all right with your mom.”

“Mom? Is it all right?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said, cutting LJ’s enchilada into bite-size pieces.

Thomas dished everyone an enchilada before taking his seat across from Anton. “So what’s your story, Anton?” he asked. “Other than being an A-S-S?”

Anton chuckled. “I’ll save you the details, since it’s a pretty boring one.”

“I doubt that,” Thomas said around a bite of enchilada. “I mean, how can a guy named Anton, who is next in line to run a multimillion-dollar company, not to mention a guy who can seriously tick Lucy Larson off, have a boring story? It’s impossible.”

I dived into my dinner, hoping that if I had a mouthful of food I wouldn’t fire off anything that was better kept to myself.

“Trust me, it’s about as exciting as French vanilla ice cream.”

I choked on my food. Seriously choked.

LJ stood up in his chair and gave my back a few whacks while I sipped some apple juice. When I looked up from my choking incident, everyone was staring at me.

“What?” I said, expressing my thanks to LJ with a smile. “I’ve always found French vanilla to be rather exciting. That’s all.”

“Do you think the psych unit is closed for the night?” India mumbled.

I scowled at her as I contemplated if eating my dinner was going to be more dangerous than not eating it.

“Since my big brother’s having this rare moment of modesty, I’ll give you the four-one-one on Anton Shaft Xavier.”

“Wait.” Thomas waved his fork. “Your middle name is Shaft?”

Anton shrugged. “Our parents are huge Shaft fans.”

Thomas clapped his hands, clearly in awe. “There is no conceivable way your life story is boring with a middle name like Shaft.”

“The only person whose life story is more exciting is mine,” India said, taking a swig of her beer. “Okay. So ASX in a nutshell . . . which is strangely ironic, since it’s very close to A-S-S.” She grinned like this was a revelation. “He was the captain of his lacrosse team back in high school. Was student body president his senior year. Dated every cheerleader on the squad by the time he turned eighteen.” Anton sighed, and grabbed India’s beer before she could stop him. He took a long swig. “He got a scholarship to Dartmouth, graduated summa cum laude, went to the Olympic trials for the lacrosse team; he summited K2 three years ago, sailed across the Atlantic on his own two years ago, and one year ago he lost his fiancée.”

Anton choked on his beer. A lot of choking going on tonight. “Shit, India,” he said, before Holly leveled a look at him. “I mean, S-H-I-T, India.”

“What do you mean, he lost his fiancée?” Thomas asked, leaning forward. “Like, one day he woke up and couldn’t find her?”

Anton lifted his hand. “Let’s just drop—”

“No, like ‘one day he woke up and got the call she’d been killed in a car accident’ lost her,” India explained.

“S-H-I-T.” Anton sighed, shaking his head at India.

I felt a little sick. Sick to my stomach and sick in the head. Anton had been engaged and she’d died. Recently. I never would have guessed Mr. Too-smooth-for-his-own-good had such a tragic past. Anton seemed more like the friends-with-benefits kind of guy, not the put-a-ring-on-it kind of guy.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked India. She’d shared about every other personal detail of her life with me. I didn’t understand how she’d forget to mention this one.

“Anton didn’t want me telling the whole world about it,” she said.

“Which obviously worked out fantastically,” he said, keeping his glare aimed her way.

“What?” she said. “It’s been a year, Anton. I know it’s not something you forget, but I’d like to think it’s something you’ll eventually move on from.”

“As fun as this conversation is,” he said, smiling tightly, “think we could drop it and move on to topics that don’t involve death and fiancées?”

India huffed, apparently not ready to drop it just yet. Whether it was sympathy or empathy or some combination of the two, I spoke up.

“Anyone seen any good movies lately?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I haven’t seen one in forever and I have no clue what’s playing. I’m thinking of taking Jude to one when he’s in town.”

“So much for not talking about fiancés . . .”

“So help me God, India,” I seethed. “I will put you in time-out and leave you there all night if you don’t take it down a notch. Or three.”

“I’ll let you borrow my spot if you want,” LJ piped up, pointing to the stool in the corner he’d spent some hard time sitting in.

“Give me some love,” India said, extending her fist at LJ. “You’re like my brother in crime.”

LJ bumped her fist with one of his own, and then India went back to her dinner, looking like she was planning on staying silent for a while.