𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０１１．

Speaking generally, Cal Valetta gave his children whatever they wanted.

Ren could have had a car. Her father had certainly offered to buy her one. Insisted, even. But no -- she was worried about the environment, and emissions were going to ruin the planet, and she could just walk. The island wasn't that big.

She stood by it mostly. She liked to think that her refusal to own a car made a difference in the fate of the world, and really, she didn't mind walking.

But today, Ren certainly minded walking.

She was sore. And not day-after-a-workout sore, where the pain was tolerable and even encouraged, but I-got-my-back-blown-out-for-hours sore. The kind of sore where she couldn't bring herself to even try walking across the island to her parents' villa when her mother called in the early afternoon, telling her that they were taking the boat out and she was expected to join them.

She knew better than to ask her mother to send a car, and she wasn't in the mood to hear Medina's lectures on how she didn't exercise enough, how wandering around the island to sell coke all day wasn't the kind of cardio a girl like her needed and she could stand to climb a couple of hills. So Ren called her father.

"Hi, Dad," Ren said when he picked up, awkwardly clearing her throat as she realized that she was, in fact, also hoarse. "Could you send somebody to come pick me up? I -- uh, tough workout yesterday, you know how it is."

There was silence on the other end of the line, stretching for much too long. "I thought you were going to sleep after you left the house."

Ren resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall, hanging Vanessa a bird where she snickered on the other side of the room. "Well, plans changed! I swung by the gym first," she lied.

"I didn't know you had a gym membership. Which credit card is that getting charged to?"

Jesus Christ. Ren dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, wrinkling her nose in exasperation. "Not sure. I'll have to get back to you on that one, Dad. But, uh, about the car--"

Cal laughed, effectively cutting off his daughter's stuttering. "Your mother's on the way back from a brunch at the society club, so unfortunately, the car isn't available right now. How about you walk down to the docks, and we'll pick you up there? You'll only have to make half the trip."

Ren did the mental math, weighing how much she didn't want to brave the walk against how much she wanted this phone call to end. In the end, the answer was clear.

"That's fine. Sounds like a plan. See you then," she said quickly, scrambling to hang up the phone before her father could ask any more questions.

She cast a withering stare at Vanessa, who was still giggling to herself where she laid at the foot of the bed. "Oh, you think this is funny?" Ren asked, getting up to sift through drawerful after drawerful of bikinis. She drew one out, tossing it onto the bed beside Vanessa. "You're coming with me."

Ness stilled, all semblance of amusement draining from her face. "I have... plans," she lied, pushing the swimsuit away.

"Like hell you do," Ren said, rolling her eyes. "If I have to suffer, you do too. Let's go, bitch."

Vanessa grumbled to herself as she held up the swimsuit next to her, assessing it. "You just want me to be there so I can help you cover up the fucking hickeys periodically."

Ren beamed at her friend. "That, too."

                                    ______________________________________