3. About to Explode

3

ABOUT TO EXPLODE

SCARED TO START, MICHAEL MARCARGI

Manny

Cara is walking with purpose toward what I assume is her car, her movements sharp and determined. As she walks, she mutters to herself in a low, indecipherable tone, her golden locks swaying with each step. She throws her hands up in frustration, then turns to me, her face flushed a deep red like a cherry tomato.

“Woah, woah, why do you look like you’re about to explode?” I ask, taken aback by her intense expression.

“Maybe because I am! What the hell are you doing here, Manny?” she snaps, her irritation palpable.

“I already told you, little firecracker. I’m here to drive you back to Florida,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“I thought you were joking. I didn’t even know you drove anymore, Mr. Fancy Pants with a driver,” she sasses.

“I do drive, and I never back down on a dare. Allie dared me, I took it, and now I’m here to fulfill it. Tomorrow is the first day of June, so I’m here to take you back,” I say with a grin, flashing my best charm. It doesn’t seem to sway her, as she scoffs and heads toward a vehicle that looks straight out of a Barbie movie.

She opens the door of the pink van-microbus-looking thing, probably from the sixties. It has flowers decorating the side doors and the inside looks like it came out of a vintage movie. The seats are beige and very well taken care of. There are pink and flower details everywhere and a disco ball hanging from the rearview mirror.

She places the bouquet inside and looks at the box and bag I’m holding, opening her arms in a silent request.

“Excuse me,” I say, reaching behind her to place the items in her pink-galore van.

“Cara, you do know you’re not a real-life Barbie, right?” I joke but it falls flat.

“What I drive is none of your business. This,” she says, tapping the van’s door, “is my baby. Liking pink doesn’t make me a Barbie.”

“This is your baby that you couldn’t leave behind?” I ask, puzzled.

“Is it that you didn’t ask your sister what I needed help with or the color throwing you off?” she counters.

“No, it’s because what thirty-year-old drives a pink vehicle?” I ask before realizing I’ve stepped on a landmine. She slams the door, gives me a sharp smack on the shoulder, and climbs into the driver’s seat. The van comes to life, and I scramble to open the passenger door and hop in before she drives off.

“Real-life Barbie,” Cara mocks in a cartoonish voice, backing out of the parking lot and driving away from her school.

“You didn’t have to come. I didn’t ask you to.” She puts one finger up and says, “First, I was going to drive myself back, thank you very much. Second—” She lowers her hand to signal the right turn she started making without signaling. I buckle my seatbelt with a loud snap and sign the cross on my forehead and chest.

“You’re so dramatic. It was just a tiny turn,” Cara snaps. “As I was saying. Second, stop acting like you’re above pink. Pink is just a color. The best one if you ask me, but it doesn’t make this beautiful thing any less.”

I smile and say, “Sure, sure, sure. Just make sure we make it in one piece. By the way, where are we headed?”

“I’m going to my house. I need to finish packing, I have a dinner party tonight, and I’m still working tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call your sister to give her a piece of my mind.” She pulls out her phone, sets it on a sparkly holder on the dashboard, and tells Siri to call “The Bestie” on speaker.

“Cara,” I try to say but she just looks my way and narrows her eyes.

“Cara?” Allie asks, answering the phone.

“Allison Marie Zabana, you have things to explain,” Cara snaps, looking over her shoulder before merging lanes, again without her signal being on. Por el amor a Jesus, nos va a matar. ? 1

“What did I do now?” Allie shouts.

Cara looks at me sideways. When I don’t say anything and she rolls her eyes, I take it as a sign and say in a clipped tone, “Hi Allielicious!” Allie used to be obsessed with Fergalicious by Fergie for a long time, so Gus and I started calling her Allielicious as a joke and it just stuck.

“Happy to hear he made it.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘he made it?’ Allie, you didn’t tell me he was coming. I hate surprises, you know that, and I told you I was going to drive myself back.”

“Cara, in no good conscience I was going to let you take a road trip for weeks by yourself, in your van that hasn’t left the city in who knows how long.” Weeks? Did she just say weeks?

“Mmm… unless Cara’s moving around the world and back, there’s no way it’s going to take her two weeks to make it back to Baker Oaks. What are you talking about?” I ask my sister, hijacking their conversation.

Cara pulls up into a neighborhood, parking the van in an empty spot in front of a beige townhouse with a yellow and lemon wreath on the door. When she parks, she grabs the phone from the holder and hits the FaceTime button. After a beat, Allie’s face shows up on the screen with a triumphant smile on her face.

“You didn’t tell him?!” Cara asks. “So, you didn’t tell me that you actually got your brother to join me on a road trip that I told you I was going to take by myself? But you also didn’t tell him it was more than just driving me back to Baker Oaks?”

She smiles and says, “Sounds about right. I have to go though. Good luck!”

The call drops and Cara drops her head on the steering wheel with an audible “Agh!”

“Hello, tierra a Cara? 2 ,” I call, lifting a strand of the softest hair—silky smooth between my fingers. A jolt of electricity courses through me from the tip of my finger, and it’s obvious I need to get laid if touching this girl’s hair makes me feel more than I have felt in months.

Yeah, the media talks about me having a flavor of the day but I haven’t had a girl in a bed in months. I say a bed because I’ve never brought anyone to my own place. Or places, if you count my condos in every city where we have a corporate office. Maybe I’m bored or maybe I’m old. Either way, I’m tired of the same shit, so driving for almost seventeen hours seemed like a good idea. Freshen up my mind, widen my horizons, and put me in a new scene. But two weeks? I can’t take that much time off.

Cara gets out. I want to follow her but I remember the bag, box, and flowers so I open the back door and gather her stuff. She stops by her front door and mumbles something under her breath.

“Sorry, Carita, I don’t have supersonic ears.”

“I said,” she pauses for theatrics, “I need my keys from my bag.”

I hand her the bag, and after she opens the door, we walk in. Stepping into this home feels the way I imagine Malibu Barbie’s house would. The first thing I notice is the smell of lemon and vanilla. Like a scone at a bakery. The house is decorated with pink, lilacs, greens, and yellows. Patterns and solids. Flowers and lines. It feels soft in here but almost not real. Cara leaves her shoes by the door, walks to the pastel pink fridge, grabs a Poppi Cola, and throws herself in a pink recliner. There are boxes strewn across different areas of the house with what I assume is the stuff she’s moving, but there’s still enough space to walk around and sit.

“Drinks are in the fridge, Manny. Make yourself at home while I try to figure out what just happened.”

I set her stuff down and sit across from her. I may not be a huge dude, but I certainly feel taller than my six-foot-two in this matchbox-sized home. My eyes keep wandering the room and when they land on Cara, she’s looking at me with her eyebrows raised.

“Got anything to say about the house? It doesn’t pass your minimalist and expensive as shit vibes? ”

I smirk at this because she’s not wrong. I do like minimalism, but not for the reasons most people think. It’s just easier to work from home in a place that doesn’t feel homey. It makes Mom sad that I think like that but it’s the truth. One day, I’ll devote my life to something else—or someone else—and maybe they can make my house a home. In the meantime, black, gray, and beige with abstract decoration works.

“I’m surprised but it also suits you,” I say. “Cara, I know this took you by surprise, but can we please talk about your plans? I don’t have a lot of time before I have to make a decision about what I’m doing.”

“Manny, just go home or go to work or wherever you need to be. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. And by the way, I’m not thirty yet, you ass—that’s still two years away,” she adds, and I’d forgotten I even mentioned age earlier. Maybe that’s what hit a nerve and now she’s in a sour mood. Half the time I forget I’m twenty-six, so I really didn’t mean for it to be a big deal.

“Talk to me.” I loosen my tie and pull it over my head, setting it on the cold table beside me. I unfasten the top buttons of my shirt deliberately, feeling the fabric shift against my chest. As I slide my jacket off, I catch her gaze as her eyes flicker to me. I roll my sleeves up, exposing my forearms, then slip off my shoes, the soft thud echoing in the quiet space. Placing my arms on my lap I add, “What were your plans? And how come just two months ago, you didn’t want to drive?”

Her eyes scan me before she lets out a huff and answers, “I hate driving. I hate people on the road acting stupid, and I hate all the variables. Do you know how many people die in car accidents every day? Too many, Manny, too many. So, I didn’t want to drive.”

She stops momentarily, then puts her head back and closes her eyes. My attention should be on what she’s telling me, but my eyes wander to her pouty pink lips and to her long lashes. Then to the tiny piece of skin between her dainty blouse and her slacks. I’ve always been attracted to Cara. She’s gorgeous and her personality adds to the appeal. However, she’s older than me, has always been with the jackass, and she’s my sister’s best friend so it has never been a possibility. Just a crush. A want. A what if.

“Are you even listening to me?” Her voice is coated with a mix of frustration and hurt. I can feel the weight of her words hanging in the air.

I know better than to offer anything less than a simple, earnest affirmation, so I nod and murmur a quick, “Yes.”

“Anyway,” Cara continues, her tone shifting, “that’s why Allie was supposed to drive me back. But then I decided to be a grown-up and take the road trip I’ve always dreamed of. Allie and Jake are all starry-eyed and caught up in their honeymoon phase, and honestly, I don’t want to be around that. Nor do I want to be the one to have them spend two weeks apart after not being together for so long. That would be really bad juju, and God knows I could use all the good vibes I can get right now.”

“What trip?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

“Manuel,” she sighs with a hint of exasperation, “you ask too many questions for someone who’s usually glued to his phone.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you run an empire, Cara,” I reply, a trace of defensiveness creeping into my voice. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not capable of holding a decent conversation that is not about business.”

“Isn’t that what you do for a living? Smooth-talk people into doing whatever you want them to do? Well, it won’t work on me, Manny.”

“Actually, not at all. I help people make financial decisions that make sense for them. But also, I don’t need to butter you up, Cara,” I counter, my tone softening. “I’m just trying to be a friend.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh, her eyes narrow. “Fine. What is it?”

“What is what?” I ask. She’s always going a mile per hour. Always laughing, running, dancing, and her jumping. Her actions and words blend together into one big explosion of joy. Right now, all that energy is about to explode, and I don’t think joy is what will come of it.

“What is it that you’re truly doing here, Manny? Are you really here to just drive or are you here to meet a quota? Is there a reporter out there, seeing you with the charity case of the month? Or are you getting ready for the newest article—” She jumps up and stands on top of the couch, puts her hands under her chin like a microphone and says, “We’re here outside the residence of a sweet school teacher, where Manuel Zabana is currently donating his precious time and money to help her to stop spiraling.”

Cara continues rambling, performing for me and I just want to laugh. I don’t think this will do either of us any favors, so instead, I get up and clap. I clap like I’m her audience and she just put on a show. This catches her off guard and she finally stops talking. I grab her hand and pull her off the couch. She jumps down with a yelp, right into my arms.

“Settle,” I whisper gently against her forehead. I learned early on that telling someone to calm down doesn’t help, especially after growing up with an anxious sister and trying to help her through difficult times. I found that “settle” can work sometimes, and when it doesn’t, I have a list of other phrases ready to go. Not that I use them often, but it’s reassuring to know they’re there.

She tenses at my touch, but I don’t let go, wrapping my arms around her even tighter. I can try to be the ground she needs right now or at least I can try.

“Cara, breathe.” I even my own breaths, hoping that she’ll match them and when she does, her breathing slows as her shoulders sag. “That’s it, breathe for me.”

“I need to go outside,” she insists, stepping away from my hold and heading back to her front door. I follow her outside and around her house. There’s a narrow stepping-stone path leading to a wooded area near the water. She leaves her sandals behind and walks barefoot over the stones; her steps deliberate as she heads toward the trees. She plants her heels firmly into the ground, takes a deep breath in and then lies down on the grass.

I’m not doing that in my Tom Ford pants, but I can stand by her and try to figure out what’s actually happening. She might be losing it, but right now, laying on the grass with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted—she looks more beautiful than ever. And fuck me because I need to focus, but Cara’s proving that to be harder and harder the more time I spend with her, and this is not even day one.

“I’ve always wanted to go on this epic road trip. But there’s always something to do and somewhere to be,” she says. “I want to be able to explore and hike; swim in random places, go to a country bar in a town nobody knows me and… let go. I want to sing karaoke and thrift shop to go to an event.” Cara lets out a breath and turns around to face me. “I want to travel and see the world. I want to live outside of the two cities I’ve called home my whole life and this summer I can finally do it. My parents agreed that I don’t need to work at the diner and with me moving back, I have time before I have to be back at work in August. I have six weeks to do whatever I want—well, three really, if you count when I need to be in Atlanta for my friend Alex’s wedding, but yeah. ”

“What’s stopping you, then?” I ask, staring at her lying on the grass with her eyes closed and her hands digging into the dirt.

“I hate driving,” she admits, blowing out a breath and her eyes fluttering open to look at me.

“But you like exploring more, no?”

“Well, duh. But the more I think about it, the more I don’t want to do this alone,” she replies and closes her lips tight before her watch lets out an alarm.

“Shit, shit, shit, I have to go!” Her voice is frantic as she leaps up from the grass, her movements hurried. She starts to walk past me, but I quickly grab her hand. A jolt of electricity zips through my fingers, and I can tell she feels it too—her eyes snap back onto mine, wide with surprise.

“Breathe, Cara,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “You’re moving a mile a minute. Where do you need to go?”

“I have that stupid end-of-the-year dinner,” she says, her words tumbling out in a rush. “They’re throwing a goodbye party, and I’m already late if I want to shower and pick up a gift for my boss.”

“How about this?” I reply, trying to keep my tone calm and hoping it rubs off on her. “You go take a shower, and I’ll handle the gift. What do you want to get him?”

“Of course you would think my boss is a man, Mr. CEO. My principal is a woman, and she loves wine, so I was going to get her some fancy bottle of wine.”

“I can handle the wine. Just go shower, and I’ll figure it out.”

“Alright, but the keys to my van are inside,” she says.

“I’m not driving that,” I reply. “I’ve got this, Carita. Just go.”

Cara heads into her house, leaving me outside. I pull out my phone and dial Lucia, my assistant for the past month .

“Mr. Zabana, how can I assist you?”

“Change of plans, Lucia. I need you to send a car to my location right away,” I say into the phone, my tone clipped with urgency.

After ending the call, I stand there for a moment, the evening air brushing against my skin. I glance around, and I feel the weight of the situation settle in. I’m left waiting, my mind already racing. The streetlights flicker on, casting long shadows on the pavement as I wait for the car to arrive and think about how the hell I found myself in this situation and what am I going to do about it.

1 ? For the love of Christ, she’s going to kill us.

2 ? earth to Cara