Chapter Text
The following Saturday, Rook wakes up earlier than she’d prefer.
She pulls out clean underwear for the day and braves her trailer’s shower, which has recently begun to produce only cold water, and at a devastating trickle. By the time she’s out, again, it’s already warm enough that she partially air-dries with a towel wrapped around her body, sitting on her bed.
Three far too excited texts from Rachel greet her when she checks her phone, and Rook smiles despite the edge of uncertainty that’s been sitting in her gut since she agreed to this.
She sends Rachel a text back confirming that she’s both awake and preparing to set off soon.
Next, she turns to the mess that she’s made of her bed, and sighs.
Rook hadn’t come to Hope County with an extensive wardrobe. The majority of her clothes are either old or second-hand, and built to last. Her trousers are mainly jeans or old work pants – well-worn, convenient, and with the odd splash of camo that she’s not exactly proud of. Her tops, with the exception of few, are typically a size too large to protect her from the heat. There’s not a good dress shirt amongst them, but then, Rook’s never really had the need for one.
Instead of second guessing herself any longer, she plucks a t-shirt from the mess. It’s clean and it’s soft, and the material is breathable enough that she hopefully won’t be a sweaty mess for most of the day, as she’s admittedly grown accustomed to being. She throws a polo shirt to one side for tomorrow, and then a tank top for sleeping in. Finally, she pulls on a pair of jeans that she intends to wear for the duration of her stay.
It’s not like Rachel would expect anything else, she reasons with herself.
Along with her clothes, Rook shoves clean socks, underwear, and her portable phone charger in a gym bag and finds her toothbrush. Her wallet and car keys are shoved into her pockets, and with her phone in hand, she casts a last quick glance around her trailer and wonders if she’s forgetting anything.
She thinks, probably, but it can’t be anything that she’d be in any desperate need for.
They’re only staying at the Silver Lake Summer Camp for the night, after all.
By the time Rook leaves, still before 09:00, she spots Sharky emerging from the bins.
The little wooden trash cubicle is already overflowing with junk after a failed pick-up the week before, and it permeates the trailer park air with the subtle tinge of rancid garbage. Sharky appears either unaware of it, or far too accustomed. He lifts an entire arm in greeting and Rook nods him a hello.
“Beautiful mornin’, Rook.”
Rook’s lips twist. In all the time that she’s known Sharky Boshaw, this is the first that she’s seen him awake before lunch. He looks like he’s suffering for it, too, if the fatigue lines on his face are anything to judge by.
“I guess,” Rook agrees. She shoves her bag in the back of her truck as Sharky approaches. “Don’t tell me you’ve been up burning the midnight oil?”
“I absolutely have not been up burning anything in the woods illegally,” Sharky says, over-loud, casting several glances around the trailer park.
“No, it’s an express—”
“Man, I don’t know what you take me for— some kinda hooligan who sets shit on fire for fun? In the woods –Illegally? Damn, Rook, I thought we were friends.”
He winks at her with both eyes, and Rook’s shoulders deflate, torn between laughter and a deep-seated bewilderment that happens upon her whenever she spends too much time with Sharky. She wonders what it says about her, sometimes, that she genuinely likes his company and considers him a good friend.
“I don’t know who keeps spreading these rumours about me.”
“I just can’t imagine,” Rook agrees, rolling her eyes at the charade.
Sharky digs her good-naturedly in the arm as he passes.
“You stink of smoke, by the way,” she shouts after him. “Your clothes are singed.”
Sharky turns to face her, walking backwards, and shrugs his arms wide as if to ask, what ya gonna do?
Rook nods her head in silent agreement.
She doubts she’ll ever have an answer to that one, where Sharky’s concerned.
Rook arrives at the Jessops’ place in good time.
When nobody’s working, the Conservatory looks almost like a normal front yard – of a decidedly wealthy family, no doubt. Rook stops her truck outside and keeps the engine running, because Rachel had told her that she’d be right out, and Rook doesn’t much feel like lingering. She has music playing quietly, and taps her fingers to the beat against her steering wheel while she waits.
Seconds later, having heard her approach, Rachel appears at the door.
She looks far too eager, and it makes Rook smile.
Wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and an honest to god pair of sneakers, Rachel half-jogs to the truck and throws her bag in the back. She appears in the passenger’s side open window with a smile that threatens the sun, and Rook can’t help but lean across the space to open the door for her.
Rachel climbs inside with the sweet scent of her floral perfume, and buckles herself in.
“I’m so excited,” she beams, turning to Rook, in place of a greeting.
She has her hair tied back in a ponytail, revealing little studded earrings and a slender neck.
“Oh, yay, me too,” Rook deadpans, and Rachel slaps her on the arm with a scoff.
“You’re going to have the time of your life, Rook, and don’t you dare forget it.”
“If you say so,” Rook manages through her laughter.
They turn together at the sound of the Jessops’ front door opening, revealing a lone Mrs. Jessop and a Tupperware box of concealed treats. She comes around to the nearest window, that being Rook’s, and hands the plastic container over. Rook takes it with no small amount of curiosity. She’d grabbed a piece of fruit for her breakfast, an on-the-go banana as she’d combed through her wet hair, and her stomach’s already aching for more.
“Just a little something for the trip,” Mrs. Jessop tells them, while Rook hands the container to Rachel.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jessop,” Rook grins, while Rachel takes a peek inside.
“Mom,” she says upon revealing a stack of sugared cookies. She turns to Rook and adds, “These are my favourites.”
“You girls have a good time.” Mrs. Jessop takes a step away from feet-crushing distance, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun while the other pitches against her hip. She leaves the distinct impression that she’s not quite sure what to do with herself. “Drive safely.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Jessop waves them off from the top of the drive.
Rook wonders just how long she stands out there once they’ve travelled out of sight.
That melancholy thought sits with her until they’re back on the main road, and Rachel cracks open the lid of the plastic container again. She picks one sugar cookie from the rest and leans against the console between them, holding it out for Rook.
“Try this,” she says, and Rook casts it the briefest glance before indulging her.
Powdered sugar falls all over her lap and down her chin as she takes a bite, and Rook stops breathing when Rachel diligently follows its path with the tips of her fingers, brushing it free. When she leans back again, she takes a bite from the same cookie and makes a quiet noise of exaggerated pleasure, that Rook almost chokes on her own mouthful.
She swallows it down a little too quickly, just in case.
“It’s good, right?” Rachel asks her, fiddling with the radio, and Rook keeps her eyes pointedly focused on the road.
She’s sure she’s blushing, and without any real reason, either.
“Very,” she agrees, as Rachel takes another bite.
Rook stops the truck at the gas station closest to the Silver Lake Summer Camp.
Rachel hops outside and is halfway around the truck when Rook calls her over to her open window.
At Rachel’s curious expression, Rook slips a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and hands it out for Rachel to take.
“Ah-uh, put your money away,” Rachel tells her, shaking her head. “I dragged you into this, the least I can do is buy our snacks.”
“That so?”
“Yep.”
“How about you take it, anyway, and buy more junk food than we could possibly eat in one night, and I’ll… make it up to you later.”
At that, Rachel’s eyes narrow.
“Make it up to me how?” she asks, eyeing the twenty dollar bill still outstretched in Rook’s hand.
“I’ll answer any question that you have about my super secret and interesting past.”
Rachel eyes the bait with pursed lips.
“Any question?” she presses, and Rook’s smile widens.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Well, in that case…” She plucks the bill from Rook’s hand. “I’ll make sure to buy us lots of sugary garbage that we can stay awake all night talking.”
Rook watches her go with a grin.
On the radio, a country love song twangs out of the aged speakers, and Rook turns the volume up – just because.