by Huss, JA
“But I might fall over.”
“I have you, I won’t let you fall over.”
“But—”
“And no talking.”
Her hands come behind her back and they are flashing signs at me. This fucking girl! I smack her ass, not hard, but the water makes it echo and the handprint appears immediately because of the heat. “How the hell did you know I understand sign language?”
She signs something else. May I speak? she asks sloppily with her hands.
“Speak.”
“I went through all your shit and found a crapload of sign language stuff. You even had a Boy Scout badge for it, you little over-achieving nerd. And for the record”—she tries to look over her shoulder at me but she can’t see much bending over like that—“you should not trust a girl alone in your bedroom. We’re nosy.” I smack her again, this time a little harder. She moans a little, like she enjoyed this one. “What was that for?”
“Fun, mostly. But also for snooping. I’ll get your sign language story later, but for now, what did you need to say that you had to break the rules and talk?”
“I’m not on the pill, just so you know.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you, so it won’t matter.” She almost stands up when I say this but I push hard on her back and force her down. “But I’ll take care of you if you’re good.” She says nothing to this but I can tell she’s unhappy. “What’s wrong now?”
She says nothing.
“You can talk, I won’t spank you.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
I smack her hard on the ass, but not as hard as I did last night. It still makes her gasp but she says nothing.
She’s learning fast.
“If I ask a question, Ashleigh, I want an answer, not a lie. You want me to fuck you? And you may speak.”
“Well, yeah. The whole point of me bending over and baring my ass to you is so I can get fucked, right? How is this rocket science?”
She is trying to drive me crazy with her silliness, I swear. “I can get you off without fucking you, so what’s the problem?”
“It’s just not…” She tries to look up at me again, but she can’t. “As much fun, that’s all. And I don’t see what you get out of it.”
“I like the game. Now you’ve wasted almost five minutes so far. We can keep it up or you can give in, be quiet, and trust me.”
I get a long sigh from her and I almost laugh. “Poor, poor Ashleigh.” My right hand glides over her hip and my fingers slip between her legs. She lets out a small moan. “Her empathy for me”—I slip one finger in and stroke her—“is almost overwhelming.” I pump her a few times and she responds, but not as well as she did the other night in the hallway. “Stand up.”
She obeys immediately this time but she doesn’t try and look at me, and that’s what I really like. Ashleigh is not submissive. I can tell. She gives in when she has to and she’s vulnerable right now because she’s in a tight spot with her car and money, but she’s not easily subdued. So getting her to obey is a big deal and brings me a lot of satisfaction.
Not like Rook, who would do things so willingly if I approached the request the right way. Rook needed very little prodding when I was asking her for compliance. She was extremely submissive and responded to firm and gentle guidance. Rook responds to kindness the way some subs respond to punishment. That stupid fuck Jon had no idea how precious she was. He abused her and that still pisses me the fuck off. I’d never smack Rook on the ass. I could never correct her physically. Ever. Not even if we were playing. But I liked that about her. I liked that she could be controlled with kind words instead of harsh actions.
She was the perfect girl for me. Totally willing, yet so gentle and innocent.
Ashleigh breaks my little daydream about Rook and peeks around her shoulder, like she’s waiting for me to do something. I grab a bottle of baby wash that she must’ve put in here. It smells like baby powder. I squeeze some on her back and begin washing her. Rook would like a gentle shower, I bet—
“OK, I quit.” Ashleigh flips the shower head back to its normal position and turns so she can wash the soap off her back.
“What the hell are you doing now?”
“Forget it. I don’t need a question answered that bad.” The water rolls down her face and she flicks the wet hair out of her eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure who you were just thinking about taking a shower with, but it wasn’t me. And you know what?” She points her finger up at my face. “Fuck you.” She throws open the curtain and steps out of the tub. “Just—fuck you.” She grabs a towel and wraps it around her and walks out. Leaving me standing there with a hard-on.
I chuckle a little at her defiance but I’m glad she can’t hear me. Because I get the feeling Ashleigh might punch me in the teeth if she heard me laughing at her right now.
Fucking girls. No, not fucking girls. This fucking girl. She’s trying to push me over the edge with her antics.
But I have all day in the truck to cool her off, and maybe if I drive straight through we can make it to Vegas and stop for a day of fun tomorrow. I’ll even get us a nice suite at The Four Seasons.
So I could care less that she’s off pouting—and changing a dirty diaper, I add with a smug smile. Because I have her undivided attention for two more days and I plan on making the most of them. Mrs. Pearson was right, I’m not one to let an opportunity go to waste.
Chapter Twenty
I pull into Jason’s parking lot a few hours later. He called me around nine and said he was done, but fucking Ashleigh had to get all her crap together, so right now it’s almost noon. She’s not talking to me either. In fact, she’s sitting in the back of the van with the baby so she’s not tempted.
I let her do her thing. She’ll crack after an hour in the Bronco with no radio.
“OK,” I tell her as I turn the van off. “You get all your shit together and put it in the Bronco, buckle the kid in, and I’ll be right back.”
I get no answer, but I don’t wait for one anyway. I push through the door of the garage and Jason is talking on the phone. He chats about the ski contest yesterday in Loveland, then something about family dinner and then pops off with an I love you. Must be his wife.
“OK, Ford, you’re all set,” he says after hanging up the phone. “Transmission’s good as new. I gave you a few new hoses, got the heater running, changed the oil, rotated the tires, and put on new wipers. I figured you deserved the red carpet treatment since I overcharged you by almost five thousand dollars.” He smiles broadly.
“You’re a dick.”
“I’m not gonna start the girl’s car until Thursday at the earliest, since you’re taking care of her. So tell her it’ll be about two weeks. Just call me with an address and I’ll set up the haul for you.” He slides the keys over the counter and grabs the printout of my services and holds it out. “Don’t be a stranger, Ford. Everyone is talking about you. You’re like the biggest news this fucking town has seen in months.”
“Everyone who?”
“All the poker buddies. We still have poker nights on Saturdays at the community center. Sandy Ralston was there, too. She’s the local reporter these days. Gonna do a big story on you and your criminal past and put it in the Vail Daily tomorrow.”
“What criminal past?”
We both look over at the door and Ashleigh is standing there with the baby in her arms.
“I told you to put the stuff in the truck.”
She rolls her eyes and walks up next to us. “Door’s locked, genius. Now what’s this about a criminal past?”
“Oh, Ford here is a colorful fellow—”
“I have no criminal record, Ashleigh. Jason, thanks for taking care of the Bronco and here’s the keys to the rental. Call them for me and tell them to pick it up.” I grab the receipt and turn Ashleigh around. “Let’s go.” I have to push her to get her started but once her feet are moving she skips a little to keep
up with my long strides across the parking lot.
“Ford?”
I ignore her, just unlock the Bronco and then go around to the van to grab the baby seat.
“Ford, wait.”
The seatbelt clicks as I release it and pull the seat out, push past her and stick the seat in the back of the Bronco. “I have seatbelts back here, I know I do. I just need to find them.” My hand sweeps under the back cushion searching and I find the webbed strap and pull it out, then go looking for the lock. “OK, I’m not sure how to buckle that seat in, so you do that and I’ll get the stroller and stuff.” I push her out of my way, not roughly, just move her aside, and go back to the van to get the rest of the stuff. When I look back she’s just standing there by the open door.
“What?”
She’s got that look on her face. The look pretty much everyone gets after they realize I’m either a genuine freak or a psychotic criminal.
“What?” I ask again, because she’s just staring at me.
“OK. I’ll wait you out on this one, but I’m not done.” And then the look is gone and she turns back to the baby seat and gets busy.
I grab the stroller first and put it in the cargo area of the Bronco, then go back for the bags. She’s using grocery bags again. This time she’s got a bunch of my clothes in the bags with her meager wardrobe.
“I packed for you since you never bothered.”
I look at her and she’s got her hands out, asking for me to load her up with bags. “It’s not a long drive to LA, I’ll buy what I need. And I figured you were stealing my t-shirts.”
“I am,” she says with a smile and I relax a little. She’s not gonna push it and I’m grateful. I’m feeling the need to get the fuck out of Vail all of a sudden. I hand her a couple bags and I grab the rest. “Can we stop and get some snacks and stuff?”
“Yeah, but not here. We’ll stop in Grand Junction.” I look over at her and smile as she packs the truck. “They have your favorite store there.” She flashes me a funny look over her shoulder. “Wal-Mart.”
She laughs. “Have you ever been in a Wal-Mart, Ford?”
“I have people shop for me.”
“We shopped yesterday.”
“I made an exception. I figured you needed stuff but you decided to be a cheap date.”
I close up the back of the Bronco and Ashleigh keeps the diaper bag with her and gets in the passenger side. Front seat this time, so I figure she’s over her tantrum from this morning.
“I’m still mad at you,” she says, slamming her door.
I close mine as well and start up the Bronco. She rumbles alive and I smile. “Fuck, I missed you, baby.” I look over at Ash because I know she’s waiting for me to say something. “What?” I play dumb.
“I’m done with your games. I’m not playing anymore. I can’t do it. You win. So let’s just be friendly until we get to LA and I swear, I’ll pay you back for all your help.”
I back out of the space, honk at Jason who’s waving from the door as he talks to some guy who just pulled up, and we are off. “I don’t want your money,” I reply to her statement once we’re on I-70 heading west. “I’m fucking rich. I have way more than I need.”
“Your loss, then.” And then she settles into her seat and stares out the window and stays silent.
We drive past the rest of the village and a few miles later I see the turn-off for Minturn. “That’s where my dad is buried,” I say as I nod my head to the road sign for Highway 24.
“Oh, really? I bet it’s beautiful. There are definitely worse places to be laid to rest.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been up there to see it.”
“What?” She looks over at me with an incredulous look. “You need to go now.”
“Yeah, right,” I laugh.
“You’re a few miles away, how often do you come up here?”
“Never anymore. I wouldn’t be here now if the fucking truck hadn’t broken down. Or if I’d stayed put in Denver on New Year’s Eve and flown out to LA the next day like I planned.” I blow past the exit for Minturn and Ashleigh physically turns around in her seat to watch it disappear.
“Go back.”
“No, I’m not going back. Just turn around.”
“Go back, Ford. I’m not kidding.”
“Why do you care, anyway?”
“Because it’s a cowardly move, that’s why. I’ve lost all respect for you.”
I grunt. “As if you had any.”
“Actually,” she says, glaring over at me, “I respect you quite a bit. You’re not a creep, you seem to be honest, and even though you might be some famous criminal in these parts, I trust you. And I’m telling you, if you don’t go see that grave and get over this thing with your dad, then you’re a coward. You’re running away from this too. Just add the cemetery to your list of things to avoid along with those friends of yours back in Denver.” I stay silent and she huffs out some air. “Coward,” she repeats, crossing her arms across her chest as she crosses her legs. A gesture that practically screams I’m done with you.
For some reason this graveyard bullshit might be her line. And I might’ve crossed it.
I sigh and take the next exit, get off the fucking freeway, get back on going east, and head back towards Minturn. I look over at her and she’s smug and smiling. “Happy?”
She swings the foot of her crossed leg and her hands are in her lap again. She’s absolutely triumphant.
I backtrack few miles, then get off the Interstate and take 24 towards Minturn.
“Do you know where the cemetery is?”
“It’s Minturn, Ashleigh. It’s like Vail. You can’t get lost. It’s a strip of places along a road. I’m pretty sure the cemetery won’t be hard to find.”
“You small-town people are sorta stuck-up. It’s Vail, Ashleigh,” she says in a mocking voice. “I’m from the city. We have loads of cemeteries and if you take a wrong turn, you might end up dead in one before your time. So excuse me for asking.”
I like smartass Ashleigh, she’s entertaining. So I let her stew in her anger and defiance until I see the cemetery sign. “OK, I’ve had enough of your mouth. Just be quiet.”
I’m nervous, I think. It’s not like my dad is really here, but it’s meaningful to me. And I didn’t have a chance to prepare for it, so it’s all sorta rushing up at me at once. I turn the truck into the lot and read the signs real fast to see if there are rules. There are—no one after dark and that kinda shit. But nothing I need to know since it’s midday. “I don’t even know where he is.” The words are already out of my mouth before I realize how bad that sounds. My own father, laid to rest two years ago, and I have no idea where he’s buried.
“I can help you look if you want. What’s his name?”
I look over at her to see how serious she is, but her mood has gone from smartass to somber in a few seconds. “Rutherford Aston.”
“You’re a Junior?” she asks smiling.
“No, he was the third, I’m the fourth.”
She stares at me and then nods her head. “It’s a great name. I bet if you have a boy you’ll name him Ford too, huh?”
Would I? I have no idea. I don’t answer, just open the door and get out. “You can help look if you want.”
She grabs the baby and we take off in different directions. I head to the headstones that look new, but Ashleigh goes off towards the old ones. I wander around aimlessly for about five minutes and then give up and call my mom.
“Ford?” she asks when she answers.
“You know it’s me, the caller ID says Ford. Why do you always ask?”
“It’s possible you just did a butt-dial, Ford. Your calls are so sporadic, how should I know.”
I laugh. My fucking mom is such a freak. “I only did that once, like six years ago. Anyway, I’m up at the cemetery in Minturn looking for Dad’s grave, and I don’t know where it is.”
Total silence on the other end.
“Mom?”
“Sorry,” she says softly. “I’m just a little stunned.”
“I’m standing next to a giant angel with a trumpet in the center. Where do I go from there?”
She gives me directions and I find the grave a few minutes later and hang up before she starts crying. My mom misses him too and I bet she’s sorry she’s not here with me.
His headstone is not huge like you might expect for a man who was the heir to a massive manufacturing empire. It’s a medium-sized upright slab of polished black granite that is gray on the inside, so the lettering has a high contrast to it. It says Husband, Friend, Advocate on the top line, then FATHER in much bigger letters on the second.
My heart swells a little at this. Because I’m an only child so the stone was lettered this way specifically for me. Why didn’t I come for the funeral?
“Dad,” I say softly. “God, I’m so sorry.” I look up and Ash is watching me from the other side of the cemetery. She gives me a little wave and then turns away and walks back to the truck. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I say it again. These are the only words I’ve ever said to him since the accident. I used to say it a lot, but it’s been a while so it feels necessary.
“What would you say back to me, Dad? If you were here?” I try and picture him, standing in front of me. What he’d think about how it all ended. What he’d think about me not coming to say goodbye. I try to read his mind from across the vast emptiness of death and I’m not doing too well.
“Do you blame me?” I’d ask him that question first if he was here. “Because I blame me.” I stand there as the cold wind picks up and then bend down to look closely at the various things people have left at the grave. There’s a red and green wreath leftover from Christmas that says I miss you. The card is plastic and written in waterproof marker. It’s in my mom’s handwriting. She comes all the time, from the looks of it. How sad to lose the one person in life you loved the most. How does she get through her days?
How can she even look at me knowing that I was the one who killed him?
I let out a long breath and turn away. There are no answers in this graveyard. Just me and my guilt and my sadness. I walk slowly back to the Bronco with my hands stuffed in my jeans and my head ducked into the wind. Ashleigh is in the backseat nursing. I smile at her as I get in, trying to push down the feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. “Someone’s hungry?”
