American Babe by Babe Walker

Author:Babe Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

ELEVEN

Bless Up.

Babe Pack your shit

That was the text I sent Knox right before my cab, which smelled like soup, peeled out of the restaurant parking lot where I’d met Scott.

Knox OK

Knox Why?

Babe The MasterChef LA auditions are in two day, yes?

Knox OMG

Babe I’ll be at your house in ten minutes. We’re going to Los Angeles.

Knox Already packing.

Babe Don’t tell your mom

Knox Never

A few minutes later, I was back at Veronica’s house manically throwing clothes into my bags. We were getting le fuck outta Dodge. I realized when I was with Scott that I’d lost track of myself. I was being Boring Bitch Babe, not Fun Bitch Babe. I had to do something irrational and expensive to bring myself back to reality. So I booked two seats on the next LA flight for Knoxie and myself while I was on my way to pick him up and grab my shit.

We were at the airport an hour later. To get through security and everything, I’d forged Veronica’s signature on a note that stated that I, Babe Walker, was his temporary legal guardian and his mother had given me permission to fly with him. I was basically an FBI agent.

I was drinking a gin and tonic, he’d ordered a beer (which I did not let him have because I was being responsible) and then a ginger ale. The place was pretty empty—it was a Tuesday evening, after all. Travel tip: travel on Tuesdays if you can. Less noise and fewer sad families.

“Your travel look is wonderful, by the way,” I told Knox as we sipped our drinks in the lounge preflight.

“Really? Thanks. I’m not loving it.”

“What’s not to love?”

“I don’t know, I feel like these Missoni Chucks are played. And I wanted to wear this Haider Ackermann hoodie knockoff that I found on eBay but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I think my mom might’ve thrown it out. She says it looks like something they’d wear in Star Wars on the desert planet. Whatever, I had to settle for this tracksuit, which I guess is serviceable . . .”

“First of all, those sneakers are classics, they will never be played,” I assured my young protégé. “And in regards to Veronica’s opinion of said sweatshirt, I truly hope she wouldn’t do something like that. Throwing away someone else’s clothing is a hate crime, if you ask me.”

“I agree. Like, let me live.”

“Yeah. Let me live, Mom!”

“Mom!! Ughhh!”

Knox and I were literally best friends at this point. I wanted to cry. So emotional. So real.

“Well, cheers,” I said, holding up my tumbler for him to clink it with his soda.

“Cheers, Aunt Babe.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t ever call me that again. Please. I’m not even your aunt.”

“I know, I was kidding. Felt like a good time for a ‘you’re old’ joke.”

“It’s never a good time for that. I’ll lose it. I’m way too close to thirty to laugh at anything involving age. You’ll see. It’s a complete horror.”

“Why? You’ll make a cool old lady.”

“Literally stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.

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