Tell Me Not to Go Read online

  “That chick has quite the mouth on her,” Keller says to Rajiv, because a guy like him probably thinks arguing with a woman is beneath him. “I thought Asian girls were supposed to be shy.”

  “You obviously don’t know a lot of Asian girls,” Rajiv says, trying to deflect the comment.

  The room is noticeably still and silent. Andrea is hiding in the corner like the mouse that she is. People may not be fond of guys like Keller, but they usually don’t stand up to them, either.

  I risk a glance at Jeff. Oh, he’s mad, but not at me. His jaw is locked, his hand is gripping my arm, and I know he is about to get up and punch Keller in the mouth. I’m certain of it. Because even though Jeff is mild-mannered and kind, even though he looks good in a suit and uses words like “scalability,” at heart he is a Utah boy who drives a truck and knows how to use a gun. Which is hot. Probably an inappropriate thought right now.

  I got Jeff into this cluster in the first place, so I should get us out of it.

  I muster all my self-restraint and stand up. “We’re getting up early for rafting tomorrow, so I think we should call it a night.”

  Jeff is standing now, too, moving closer to Keller. “You owe her an apology for that comment.”

  Keller laughs. “What, she can’t take a joke?”

  “That was you being racist. It wasn’t a joke.”

  Keller leans in toward Jeff. He is so not worth wasting breath—or punches—on, so I drag Jeff out of the room as Eli and Rebecca throw us concerned looks. As we leave and Keller returns to the pool table, everyone relaxes a bit. As though Jeff and I are the problem, and our absence will return everything to normal.

  Fantastic.

  Instead of taking Jeff upstairs, I lead him outside.

  “Let’s take a walk.” I don’t let go of his hand, which is warm and substantial wrapped around mine.

  Jeff shakes his head. “I’m sorry . . .”

  “No. Don’t apologize for him. He’s the ass, not you.”

  “Why did you drag me out, then?” Jeff lets go of my hand and slings his arm around me. Even better.

  “You would have gotten in a fight, and you work together.”

  Jeff lets out a breath. “Would’ve been worth it.”

  “Not in the long run. Plus, would hitting him have made me feel better, or you?”

  He blows out a breath. “Definitely me.”

  “And this isn’t about you.”

  Jeff stops in his tracks. “Damn. I’m sorry. I should have handled that better.”

  “I’m okay. Really. I don’t need you to fight my battles, and I’m not going to let one drunk idiot ruin our night.”

  We walk way past the house to the tree line, but not beyond. Even though it’s spring, it’s cold here at night, and I don’t have a flashlight to guide our way. Being near the trees is enough, though; their needles heavy with the scent of Christmas as they crunch under my feet. I let the cold, clean air fill my lungs, then breathe out slowly.

  “Sometimes it feels good not to be a hothead,” I say. “My parents have been telling me that for years.”

  Jeff laughs. “I have the opposite problem. Most people can’t tell when I’m feeling anything.”

  “I can,” I say, enjoying the puffs of air that come out of our mouths as we talk.

  “Yes, you can.” He leans down and kisses me, his nose cold against mine. Our lips feel cold too, but they warm up quickly. “But then I seem to feel a lot more around you.”

  My heart thuds, but I ignore it.

  “Keller saved your ass, you know.”

  Jeff’s eyes widen. “How so?”

  “Because I haven’t forgotten about your little conversation with Andrea, but now I’m not pissed anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been talking to her about us.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I wasn’t trying to downplay you and me. She caught me off guard, and I don’t know how to describe what we’re doing here.”

  “Neither do I.” My voice is quiet, so Jeff leans down to hear me. “That’s why I’m not angry. I’m the one who said no strings.”

  Jeff places his hands on my cheeks. “Yeah. No attachments. Good thing I don’t feel attached.” His voice is husky—his hands are strong.

  “Me neither . . .” but my words are swallowed by his mouth, and I’m kissing the hell out of him.

  “Andrea wants you,” I whisper against his lips.

  “I don’t want her. I’m too busy wanting you.”

  Well, damn. No way to overlook my racing heart now.

  I cut a break, and the Tahoe River is too dry to do any rafting. Lake Tahoe is also really low, which is kind of freaky given how deep it usually is, so we ditch our plans and head to Reno instead. It’s not like I’m happy that California is perpetually in a drought. But when I’m in the water, I thrash around awkwardly until someone takes pity on me and pulls me out. I’m great on land, though. And in the air. You need a hiking or bungee-jumping partner, I’m your go-to girl.

  Keller wants to hire a limo to take us all to Reno, because he doesn’t plan on staying sober. “It should only be a couple of hundred bucks per couple,” he says, as though it’s pennies. Which, I guess, to him it is.

  Rajiv and Jeff volunteer to drive instead.

  “Oh that’s right, you’ve got the perfect designated driver,” Keller says, winking at me, like all is now forgiven. Then he puts his hands on Andrea’s ass as she gets into Rajiv’s SUV. Good to know he’s keepin’ it classy as usual.

  We pass under the Reno sign, which proclaims it the “Biggest Little City in the World.” Right now, it looks like the grubbiest little city in the world—like someone rode it hard and put it away wet. Pawn shops, run-down casinos, and a stench of desperation surround us. But like a lot of cities, it gets better at night when the lights come up and people loosen up.

  “We should see that Elvis impersonator tonight,” I say as we walk past a huge billboard with a guy in mutton chops on it.

  Rebecca laughs. “I’m totally down for that. I’ve always wanted to go to one.”

  “Seriously?” Eli frowns, and his face scrunches like a bulldog.

  “Aww, come on,” Rebecca says, running her hand down his chest.

  He shrugs, but his mouth turns up in a big smile. “Oh, alright.”

  Yeah, Eli is a goner.

  Jeff raises an eyebrow at me. “And yet you won’t listen to my country playlist?”

  “This is kitschy on purpose.”

  Jeff laughs. “Ouch. Fine, but I’m not dressing up like that later.”

  Eli shakes his head. “Dude, I don’t want to hear that.”

  The buffets in Reno are of varying quality and similar price, so we pick the one that looks the best and dive in. The food is divided into sections: salad bar, hot foods, meat-carving station, desserts. It’s teeming with people taking a break from gambling and families looking for a bargain.

  The guys pile their plates high. Jeff even throws a slab of prime rib on his. “Just because I can,” he says.

  I grab a bunch of stuff, including ambrosia salad. Eli, Rebecca, Jeff, and I slide into a booth, and the other couples find seats at various tables.

  “Ooh, there are baby marshmallows in this,” I say, poking them with my fork.

  Jeff pauses, his fork midway to his mouth. “You’ve never had ambrosia salad?”

  “No way. Marshmallows aren’t vegan. Neither is whipped cream.” I chew for a minute, letting the saccharine taste of fake cream and canned fruit coat my tongue. “Man this is so sweet, it’s nasty.”

  Rebecca takes a bite of carved turkey. “You’re not vegan anymore?”

  “My parents forced it on me. But I encouraged Mom to cheat as often as I could. I was, like, her enabler. I don’t eat a ton of meat, but I make up for it in dessert.” I take another bite of the marshmallow, just to be sure it’s gross. Affirmative.

  Even grosser is the casino—the stench of cheap booze sp
illed and soaked into hideous carpets, the chain-smokers listlessly playing at the same machines they’ve been at all night and day. But Jeff and I still manage to have a blast, probably because all the couples have dispersed and we’re on our own. Normally, I like being social, but I feel awkward around Keller and his cohort after last night.

  “If it’s okay with you, we’re going to meet up for dinner at a steakhouse,” Jeff says, reading a text from Keller as we weave through the crowd toward the slot machines.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. If I bruised that easily, I’d be dead by now.”

  Jeff puts his hand on my shoulder. “He insulted you. If you don’t want to see him again, I understand. If you want to leave Tahoe tonight, that’s fine, too. We can do whatever you want.”

  “He is a major asshole, but there’s usually one in a crowd, so I’m not sweating him.”

  Jeff frowns. “Does that happen often? People insulting you?”

  I laugh. “Not that openly. But people can never pin down exactly what I am, so sometimes I take crap for whatever group they feel like hating on in that moment.”

  “Like what?”

  “When I got scholarships in high school, people implied it was because I was Asian. But then a Chinese guy in my pre-med program said I got into Carver because I’m Mexican, which I’m not. Basically, people see a mixed face and don’t know what to do with themselves.”

  He cups my face with one hand. “Too bad for them.”

  “They’re just ignorant, and I don’t have time to educate the whole damn world. Let’s do some more gambling before we meet up with everyone.”

  Turns out, I’m cheap when it comes to losing money, so I make Jeff sit with me at the quarter slots.

  He teases me as I pull the big red handle. “You know there’s a button you can push, right?”

  “I like doing it this way. It’s classic, and I lose more slowly.”

  Eventually, we head to the craps table and get someone to teach us how to play—easy to do because the crowds are thin right now.

  “How about poker?” he asks after he walks away from the table with a few more chips than he had before.

  I laugh. “I am notoriously bad at poker. Your sister has already taken enough of my money that way, thank you very much. I know what we’re going to do instead: Circus Circus.”

  “The kiddie casino?”

  “Uh-huh.” I take Jeff’s hand and lead him to the exit. When we step outside, it’s much cooler, and I can finally take a deep breath. We hit the pavement and wind our way to Circus Circus—which you can’t miss on account of the giant clown on the sign.

  “This is all a ploy for me to win you a giant stuffed animal, isn’t it?” he asks.

  “Obviously. I’ve come here with my parents a couple times. They’d give me twenty bucks of quarters and leave me where the kids’ games are, then they’d go gamble on the first floor. I loved it. There’s a circus act right in the middle of the room.”

  Jeff smiles. “I thought your parents were hippies.”

  “Yes, but not Quakers. They still like to have fun.”

  We bypass the adult entertainment and head up to the kids’ floor. True to my word, there are two acrobats flipping each other back and forth on swings.

  Jeff looks around and sees the arcade. “Alright, you done good, girl. This is righteous.”

  We spend the next couple of hours on total nonsense—spending more than we would have at the casino. The games are all rigged to make you lose, but it doesn’t matter. Especially when I manage to beat Jeff at a game of air hockey. Then I become obsessed with Skee-Ball, and sink a lot of quarters into that.

  “You have enough of these yet?” Jeff asks, holding up the long line of pink tickets spitting out of the machine.

  “It takes, like, eight thousand to get a stuffed animal.”

  “I could buy you a stuffed animal for a tenth of the cost of these games.”

  I pout. “Not the point. Have you no romance?”

  That gets a smile out of him. “Alright, slugger. Come on. I’m winning you that stuffy.”

  Back to the games we go, and this time Jeff is a man on a mission. He heads to the camel races, where a group of kids are sitting on stools, racing plastic camels to a climactic finish. When that round is over, Jeff sits down, slams twenty bucks on the counter, and off he goes. I stand behind him, cheering on his camel, whose tiny rider is wearing a red cloak. When he wins, I squeal and jump up and down, like he’s winning the lottery. I’m sure I’m embarrassing him, but he doesn’t say anything.

  No matter how epic his win, Jeff is disappointed when the kid manning the booth hands him a tiny stuffed fish. So he sits and plays some more, and finally, after his third win, he trades up for the coveted monkey holding a banana—a toy that would have cost him ten bucks at a toy store. I don’t care. I grab Jeff and hug him, as he lifts me onto my toes and kisses me.

  It’s a moment more sweet and light than any I can remember since I was a kid.

  “I’ll win another one if you jump up and down like that again,” he says. Then he drags me down a hallway and puts his lips to mine. We kiss and kiss, until neither of us can breathe.

  “We’re stuck in this weird town when we could be back in our room,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Tonight. I bought something special for the occasion. And it’s very small.”

  “Damn,” he breathes into my hair.

  On the way out of Circus Circus, I see a little kid at the Skee-Ball machine counting her quarters. I hand her all of my tickets, and her mouth widens into a smile. Some of her front teeth are missing. This, along with the poofy bun on the top of her head, make her a ten on the adorable scale.

  “Try for the Barbie dream house,” I tell her, and she fist bumps me.

  I go to say something to Jeff, and he is looking at me strangely—like he’s never seen me before.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he says, but he turns away quickly.

  Keller buys us all dinner, which pisses me off—but also is a relief, because this place is expensive. The tab is easily a thousand dollars. I’m all the way on the other end of the table from him; lucky me, I miss most of his sermon on how poor people are ruining the Bay Area. Later, I can hear him making a big production over the check, saying that we’re his guests for the weekend. If this were anyone else, I would assume the best—that they were being super generous. But with Keller, it’s a power play and a show. Keller will always need to be the alpha dog. Makes me appreciate Jeff’s quiet strength even more.

  More gambling, more drinking, more of everything, and I’m exhausted. I’m relieved when Keller pronounces Reno a “way shittier Vegas,” and we all decide to go home instead of seeing Elvis.

  As we head out of town and get closer to Tahoe, the road becomes pitch black and the temperature drops. We’re following close behind Rajiv when suddenly there’s a loud pop, and Rajiv swerves toward the shoulder.

  “He blew a tire,” Jeff says as he pulls over and puts on his hazards.

  We all pile out to take a look.

  “Crap,” Rajiv says, as he grabs the spare tire and the jack.

  Keller stumbles out of Rajiv’s car, leaving his door open. “Someone call AAA.”

  “That will take a while,” Jeff says. “We can change it ourselves.”

  “Whatever, dude,” Keller says, heading off with Andrea and Alyssa to wait in Jeff’s car.

  Rajiv makes a valiant effort to loosen the lug nuts, but he’s struggling. “These things are machine-tightened, so they’re a bitch to get off.”

  “I know,” Jeff says. “Let me try for a minute.”

  Rajiv hands Jeff the cross bar, which he positions so he can use his legs to push down on it. He loosens all of them, and then Rajiv jacks up the car. In no time, the new tire is on, and Rajiv is tightening the lug nuts. I find a pack of hand wipes in Jeff’s glove compartment and offer them to the guys.

  “That was fast,” Andrea says as she g
ets back in Rajiv’s car.

  Keller rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t take a genius to fix a fucking tire.”

  “Didn’t see you doing anything,” Andrea mutters and shuts her door.

  Andrea seems to be having a lot of epiphanies on this trip. I may not be happy that she has a thing for Jeff, but I still hope she gets the hell away from Keller ASAP.

  Keller’s drunkenness doesn’t get any better back at his house. The others have a few more drinks too, but they only laugh louder and smile more.

  “Wanna go show me what you bought for this trip?” Jeff whispers in my ear.

  We start to sneak out of the living room, but Eli calls out to us. “Hey, we’re going in the hot tub. Come with.”

  The idea of warm water on a cold night sounds heavenly, so we head up to change. By the time we get down, everyone else is in already, except for Rajiv and Alyssa who went to their room.

  “Dude can’t hold his liquor,” Keller slurs, his eyes planted firmly on my tits as I climb in the water.

  “Eyes up,” Jeff says to him, and his tone isn’t playful.

  “No harm in looking,” Keller laughs, at which point Andrea gets out of the hot tub and walks quickly back into the house.

  “What’s your problem, man?” This comes from Eli, who I’m surprised is challenging Keller directly. But I think we’ve all had enough.

  Keller doesn’t respond—simply rests his head on the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes. Rebecca whispers into Eli’s ear and he smiles. I can only imagine what she said, because a few minutes later, they get out and head to their room.

  “We should go, too,” Jeff says.

  “We can’t leave him here like this. Can you go get some water? He’s going to get really dehydrated. I’ll wake him up, and then we’ll get him out.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” he says, giving me a kiss.

  Except Keller’s not asleep.

  “Your boyfriend’s super,” he says the minute Jeff’s out of sight. His hair looks even darker slicked back, and his eyes even beadier when he’s drunk.

  “Yes, he is.”