The Summer of Jordi Perez (And the Best Burger in Los Angeles)(10)

Also, of course, there’s kale instead of a piece of lettuce.

But that’s not even the worst of it. That stuff’s just healthy and so I can get behind that. But food photography is actually really disgusting. The burger’s grill marks would be good enough for real life, but to make sure they really show up on camera, they’re touched up with dark brown eyeliner. Everything’s brushed with oil to make it shinier, and this burger is actually in perfect stacked order because little pins are holding it together. The kale has been misted with plant food, but that’s not as bad as it could be. The other week there was a photo shoot with a bowl of fruit, and it had all been sprayed with deodorant.

“Abbs.” Dad sighs while smiling. I can tell he thinks this will make me feel guilty, but it’s only mostly effective. “You have to forgive her at some point.”

“I should get dressed.” I glance at Mom and then at the woman standing next to her who’s holding a much fancier-looking camera than Maggie gave Jordi yesterday. My pajamas might be cute—a pink tank top with cupcake-printed shorts—but I’m still wearing pajamas in front of a stranger.

And you don’t have to forgive anyone you don’t want to.

It didn’t feel like this when Rachel was still here. It was easier for Mom to forget how disappointed every facet of me made her when the perfect daughter she would have picked out from a catalog was standing right beside me. The Ives aren’t supposed to be a three-person unit; we only function correctly at four.

After I take a shower and put together a couple of outfit options, I grab my phone. Jax has texted a third time, which astounds me. Aren’t fratty types unable to wake before noon due to residual post-partying effects?

can u meet me or not??

At least his texting style meets his stereotype’s expectations.

I decide to wear my shorts printed with lemons and flowers with a bright white sleeveless shirt Maliah gave to me for my birthday this year that I’ve somehow managed to keep in spotless condition. Sometime between hanging up my towel and adding a bright pink enamel necklace to my outfit, I must have decided that even giving in to Jax’s text demands is a better use of my time than sticking around here.

Plus this is clearly a going-out look.

Normally, I understand my own motivations a little more. Everything seems a little fuzzy since yesterday’s daydreaming and distractions in Lemonberry, though. Am I bored? (Possibly.) Do I miss Rachel? (Absolutely.) Am I jealous that Maliah has another person to spend her time with this summer? (Obviously, even if that makes me a baby.)

And so Jax and I meet outside of the overpriced juice place on Glendale. He’s wearing a Westglen T-shirt with baggy basketball shorts and worn-out flip flops. He looks like he put less effort into getting ready than I even realized was possible, but even a lesbian can admit that it all still sort of works because he’s tall and in really good shape and clearly goes to a barber who knows exactly what to do with his sun-bleached light brown hair.

“Man, I am hooked on these things,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Who the hell knew beets could be good to drink.”

I groan without even meaning to. “You sound like my mom.”

“That’s flattering.” He orders some fruit/vegetable combo that would make Norah’s heart sing. “What’d you want? It’s on me.”

“I’m good,” I say. I think it should be illegal to pay double digits for freaking juice. “I’ll get a coffee next door.”

“I bet you’re curious,” he says while we’re exiting The Juice and walking into Kaldi. “What is Jax up to? Burgers sound intriguing!”

“That doesn’t sound like my inner monologue at all,” I say before ordering a blended mocha from the barista who seems like he’s trying too hard to look like Che Guevara. “Oh wait! I like coffee now. Regular coffee.”

“So … just a coffee?” the barista asks.

“You heard the lady,” Jax says. “Get her a coffee!”

He does, and then I spend a few minutes getting the coffee to the same consistency as yesterday. I think of Jordi when I taste it, and I know that I should probably hate the competition, but I smile anyway.

“Cool fruity shorts,” Jax says.

“Is that sarcastic?” I ask as we sit down at a little table with our beverages.

“Do I seem sarcastic?” He grins, and I have to admit that I’m not sure Jax is even capable of sarcasm. “So have you heard of the Best Blank?”

“I have not.”

“It’s my dad’s thing,” he says. “It’s an app. Kind of like Yelp but instead of reviewing places, it’s all about finding the best stuff. So if you’re in New York and you want the best lobster, it’ll tell you where to find it.”

“Okay,” I say. “Could it tell me the best overpriced juice in Atwater Village?”

“Yup,” he says. “It will, at least. Dad’s still working out all the kinks, getting investors, all that. So he needs some people testing it this summer, and I volunteered for burgers.”

“Why am I involved in this?” I ask.

“Uh, because you’re cool and we’ll have fun eating a shitload of burgers and ranking them?” He shrugs. “Also, I need girl advice and you’re my best possible source.”