Different Circles

G and Neesh both laughed at that. “Yeah, that one pretty much fell apart once you let them print that picture of her,” G said. “There ain’t no way my DNA is in that little pale redheaded girl.”

“I don’t know,” Jake said thoughtfully. “She does kind of have your lips.”

They had a laugh about this and then G decided it might be wise to change the subject. “You said your old lady was out buying a new car today? What did she get?”

“It’s a Toyota,” Jake said with a shrug. “I was kind of hoping she would go for another Lexus or maybe a Mercedes like Celia’s, but she said she really liked the Toyota she test-drove at the dealership.”

“A Toyota huh?” G asked. “That’s kind of boring.”

“She says it’s the perfect mom car,” Jake said. “Lots of room for the car seat and passengers and it has all the bells and whistles. It was only twenty-seven grand out the door.”

“What kind of Toyota is it?” asked Neesh. “The new Camry? Those actually are pretty nice, but I didn’t think they cost that much.”

“No, not the Camry,” Jake said. “Some new model they just came out with this year. Bigger than a Camry and with more safety features and all that shit. She called it a...” He searched his brain for the information. “Something with an S.”

“An S?” Neesh said. “Was it a Sienna?”

“Yeah!” Jake said, nodding. “That’s it. A 1998 Toyota Sienna.”

“Never heard of no Sienna,” G said.

“Me either,” said Jake. “We’ll see it when we get there. She’s already got it home.”

“Oh, homey,” Neesh said, shaking her head a little.

“What?” asked Jake.

“You don’t know what a Toyota Sienna is?” she asked.

“I’m not that much into cars,” Jake said. “Especially not Toyotas.”

“It’s a minivan,” Neesh told him.

Jake’s eyes got wide. “A minivan?” he asked. “You mean ... you mean ... like that Ford Windstar, or that Chevy Astro?”

“Yep,” Neesh said with a smile. “Toyota is getting into the market. The Sienna is their first model of minivan.”

“How do you know this shit, baby?” asked G, who was just as appalled as Jake at the thought of a Kingsley owning a minivan.

“One of my firm’s clients is Toyota,” she said. “I’ve worked on their account and have seen their projections of sales figures for the coming year. They are very excited about entering the minivan market.”

“Oh my God,” Jake said, feeling a little like he had been punched. “A fucking minivan? How could she do this to me?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re trying to hire a twenty-one-year-old nanny named Meghan,” Neesh suggested.

The new Toyota Sienna was royal blue, Jake’s favorite color. Its paint was shiny and new. It had two rows of seats behind the driver and passenger section, making it capable of seating five in comfort in addition to Caydee and her car seat. The seats were plush and quite comfortable, with more leg room than Jake’s BMW. It had a premium sound system, anti-lock brakes, airbags, cruise control, and power ports installed for every seat. It had the exquisite smell of a new vehicle. It had a V-6 engine that produced 194 horsepower, which gave it impressive acceleration and handling. Despite all of this, Jake hated it on first sight and he would continue to hate it for as long as it existed as part of the Kingsley household.

“A minivan?” he asked his wife. “Why’d you have to get a minivan?”

“You told me to get whatever I want,” she told him, upset that he did not like her new ride. “It’s the perfect family car.”

“We only have one kid,” Jake protested. “We don’t need a whole van.”

“Not right now, we don’t,” Laura said, “but what if we have more kids? What if Caydee joins the soccer team or something when she’s in school and I have to drive multiple kids around. This is what I wanted, Jake!”

“Man,” Jake said sadly, shaking his head. “You know, of course, that I can never drive this thing. Hell, I can’t even ride in it while you drive it.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it’s a minivan,” he said. “I’m Jake Kingsley, hon. I have street cred to think of. I am considered one of the best rock singers of all time. I hang out with fuckin’ Bigg G and make music with him. All that shit goes out the window if some pap motherfucker snaps a picture of me in a goddamn minivan and publishes it in the Watcher. I would never sell another CD as long as I lived.”

Laura rolled her eyes a little. “Are you maybe being just a bit dramatic here?” she asked.

“Am I being dramatic, G?” Jake asked his friend and fellow street-cred carrying musician.

“No, not at all,” G confirmed. “In fact, I would go a step further and make sure that you aren’t even photographed near this thing, just to be safe.”

Laura looked up at the heavens and shook her head. “Fuck me,” she muttered.

“Maybe later,” Jake told her. “Come on. Let’s get inside and introduce G and Neesh to Caydee.”