Chase and Amelia walked into Summers Brew. The bell jingling a weak, indecisive note, welcoming them back after a week of test streams and set reconfigurations.
“Top of the morning, Tabitha,” Chase said, placing his briefcase on the counter like it needed caffeine too. “Got any insults saved up?” Chase asked.
“I ration them,” Tabitha said. “It’s a valuable, but volatile resource.”
“Ah,” Chase nodded. “Ethical cruelty.”
Amelia smiled warmly. “Good morning.”
Tabitha scrawled TUNED OUT on Chase’s cup and GOOD MUSIC TASTE on Amelia’s. She slid them across. Amelia laughed when she read hers.
As Chase fished for change, Tabitha muttered under her breath, “Apparently I can’t get a license,” Tabitha listfully stared at the counter, “because no one has time to risk their life.”
Chase blinked. “That feels… targeted.”
Amelia perked up immediately. “Wait… You don’t have a driver’s license?”
Tabitha stiffened, the sarcasm faltering for a second. “Shocking, I know.”
Amelia’s smile sharpened into mischief. She turned to Chase. “Perfect solution. “You should teach her,” Amelia said.
Chase laughed once. Then stopped. “That wasn’t a joke?”
“You’ll be fine,” Amelia said, nudging his arm. “You’re patient.”
Tabitha snorted from behind the espresso machine. “That’s the funniest lie I’ve ever heard.”
Amelia ignored her. “Besides, you’re always going on about freedom and liberty. What’s more free and liberating than helping a friend get their license?”
Chase groaned, looking between the two of them. He felt like he’d just lost a bet he didn’t know he was making.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” he muttered.
Tabitha arched an eyebrow. “Neither can I.”
By the time Tabitha’s shift ended, the sky had wrung itself into a clearer gray. Chase sat in his Acura, keys in the ignition, with Amelia in the backseat waving Tabitha over.
“Your chariot awaits,” Amelia called.
Tabitha blinked. “I walk.”
“Not today,” Amelia said, grinning. “Today you drive.”
Chase leaned over the console, expression pained. “Against my better judgment.”
Tabitha slid into the driver’s seat like she was taking the stand in a murder trial. She adjusted the seat, looking stiff.
“Seatbelt,” Chase barked immediately.
“She hasn’t even turned the car on,” Amelia teased from the back.
“Seatbelt first,” Chase insisted, tightening his own until it cut into his shoulder. “Safety is non-negotiable.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes, clicking hers into place. “Happy, Dad?”
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thrilled. Adjust your mirrors.”
“She’s got this,” Amelia said, leaning forward to nudge the rearview mirror. “Relax.”
Chase shot her a look in the mirror. Amelia grinned back, unbothered. There was a static between them today – a shared secret language born of contracts and late-night streams.
Tabitha caught the look. Her stomach twisted as she gripped the wheel. “You two done?”
“Never,” Amelia said lightly. “Go on. Turn him on…I mean turn it on.”
Tabitha turned the key. The engine groaned awake. She shifted into drive and pressed the gas too quickly; the car lurched forward.
Chase clutched the dashboard. “Easy! Gentle—gentle! It’s a gas pedal, not a bass drum.”
“You’re making her nervous,” Amelia laughed. “She’s fine.”
“I am not fine,” Chase muttered through his teeth.
Tabitha smirked, letting the car glide forward slightly more smoothly. “Paranoid much?”
“About my luxury car? Yes,” Chase snapped. “She trained for maybe one hour. ONE. You need years before you trust someone with a fine piece of Japanese workmanshi—”
“It’s just a glorified Accord, Chase, it’ll be fine” Amelia said.
Chase threw her a betrayed look. “Spoken like someone who’s never watched a teenager nearly take out a mailbox.”
Tabitha raised an eyebrow. “I would not take out a mailbox.”
The air settled for a moment.
“Unless it deserved it,” Tabitha added.
Amelia laughed into her sleeve. “See? She’s got your sarcasm and my optimism. Best of both worlds.”
They rolled down quiet suburban streets. Chase micromanaged every turn; Amelia countered him with encouragement. It was chaotic, stressful, and surprisingly…nice. It felt normal.
Then Tabitha reached for the radio.
Static. Static. And then – a warped synth groove slipped through the speakers.
“Basic being basic, I don’t want it—”
Chase recoiled. “Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. Why does it sound like irony learned how to sing? Why is he bored at me?”
Tabitha’s hand froze. “…Not a fan of DJO.”
“It’s aggressively self-aware,” Chase said. “It’s like the song knows it’s better than me and won’t shut up about it.”
“It’s called indie pop,” Tabitha muttered.
“It’s called emotional bullying,” Chase shot back. “This is exactly the kind of thing Samara used to play. You know… Music that smirks mocks your day.”
Tabitha’s shoulders slumped. She switched the station quickly, cheeks burning.
In the rearview mirror, Amelia caught Chase’s eye and gave a tiny, sympathetic wince. You hurt her feelings, the look said.
I’m saving her ears, Chase’s look replied.
They pulled into an empty stretch of curb so Tabitha could practice parallel parking. She hadn’t even aligned with the curb yet when Chase’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and froze.
“Oh no,” Amelia said. “Is it… ”
“Yes,” Chase groaned. “More VIM talk.”
He answered. “WRIGHT!” Vincenzo’s voice exploded through the speaker, loud enough for the entire car to hear.
Tabitha winced. Amelia mouthed sorry.
Chase leaned away, practically hanging out the open door. “Hey, man. We were just… Yeah. We’re still reviewing the proposal. I’ll follow up..”
Vincenzo’s response was a muffled roar of enthusiasm.
Chase rubbed his forehead. “I know the earning potential. I know the exposure. Yes. Yes, I remember your TED Talk about ‘the future of narrative’—”
Another blast.
Chase’s voice dropped, serious and quiet. “…Yeah. It would help. The loans. And the rent. I know.”
He stepped fully out of the car to finish the call, leaving Amelia and Tabitha in the sudden quiet.