She takes her phone out and puts her face to mine, and with the backdrop in the background, she takes a shot. She looks at it with a huge smile. “I want to see what you looked like on film before you piggyback me up to the top.”
I laugh. “Angel, if you want to fall spectacularly down this mountain and die, let me carry you.”
She turns and begins to walk up the trail again. “I could carry you,” she replies casually.
“I have no doubt,” I huff as I climb. “Horses can do that.”
She laughs. “You know I haven’t gone hiking in such a long time . . . since my parents died, actually.”
I frown; this is the first time she’s told me this. “Your parents both passed?”
She continues to walk in front of me. “Yeah, they were killed in a car accident six years ago.”
Shit.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
We keep walking.
“What were they like?” I ask.
She turns. “My mother was like me.”
“A sex maniac, then.”
She laughs out loud. “And my father was the sweetest man on earth.”
I keep climbing as I listen.
“We used to have this thing that we would do together on special occasions.”
I puff as I climb. Fuck, this hill is steep. “What was that?”
“Eat Cornetto ice creams.”
I smile as I listen.
“Watching a movie, Cornetto ice cream. Something was celebrated, a Cornetto ice cream. When I got my first job, he picked me up with a Cornetto ice cream.”
“I haven’t had one of those ice creams in years,” I say.
“Me neither . . . not since he died.”
We walk for a while. “What are your parents like?” she asks.
I think for a moment. “Busy.”
She turns and frowns, as if surprised by my answer. “And that bothers you?”
“Not necessarily.” I walk for a bit. “I just never had that time as a kid to hang around and be bored.”
She listens.
“I went to boarding school from the age of seven. Holidays were always rush, rush, from one exotic resort to another.” I shrug. “I don’t know . . .” My voice trails off.
“Will you send your kids to boarding school?”
“Not on your life.”
She turns as if surprised. “What would you do differently—I mean, to the way you were brought up.”
“Give them my time.”
She stops and turns. “You didn’t get time with your parents?”
“Still don’t.”
She stares at me for a moment. “What about your brothers?”
“My brothers.” I smile. “They take up too much time, I love those fucks.”
She giggles and continues walking.
“We only ever had each other growing up. They mean the world to me.”
We walk for a while.
“Our formative years were spent preparing us to take over Miles Media. We all sometimes resent that we never got to choose our own path.”