The feeling of euphoria doesn’t last. Billy gives me space, remaining quiet while I inhale syrup-laden pancakes, two strips of bacon and coffee. When I finish, all I want to do is go back to my room and sob into a pillow. But, what really scares me is the fact I have to call my mother and tell her the news. She’ll contact Dani’s father and, shortly after, figure out I’ve been lying to her since I arrived in 3 Peaks.
Finally, Billy breaks the silence. “So, do you plan to stay in 3 Peaks?”
Good question. I mull over the alternative. San Bernardino. Sandra micromanaging my life. No job. No future. And, what about Stan Abbot? By now, he might have heard about my little escapade at the hospital. Would he then place me on further probation? I feel safer with nine hundred miles between us.
I glance briefly into Billy’s piercing gaze. I have no desire to see my own tear-streaked face again. “I’m staying here.”
“Working at Nick’s? Kind of a rough crowd.”
“What do you care?” I huff. “I can handle it. Besides, I want to find out what happened to Dani.”
He leans across the table and studies my face. “And what, exactly, do you plan to do about it?”
I scroll through my brain for an intelligent answer and come up blank. “Well, for starters, I want to talk to her asshole husband, Eddie. Yesterday, Dani woke up. She tried to talk to me. And now she’s dead? It makes no sense.”
“Yeah, I bet Eddie will be real glad to chat you up.” He winks to take the sting out of his words.
Billy’s right. I’d be as welcome as a case of virulent clap in Eddie’s world. I think about my options and blurt, “I need to see Dani. Tell her goodbye.”
“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. The body will be taken to the funeral home today.”
The pancakes curdle in my belly. Dani, my dearest friend, is now the body. Suddenly, I’m so angry I want to howl and scream, make everybody in the restaurant share in my agony. I pinch my lips together and grip the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white.
The waitress drops off the bill and says, “Thanks, you two.”
I reach for it but Billy snags it in a lightning fast move. “My idea. I pay.”
I come down from my rage-fueled high and take a shaky breath. “Thanks. I owe you one. Actually, I owe you two after last night’s beer spill.”
“No way,” he says.
“Way.”
He shakes his head in disgust. “God damn it, woman. Why are you so stubborn?”
“I don’t like to owe people.”
He rises. “Consider the debt paid. Let’s go.”
No way was the debt paid, but rather than carrying on the verbal sparring match, I file it away under: Things to deal with later.
Two blocks away from Nick’s, I tap Billy on the shoulder. “You can drop me here. I have to pick up a couple of things at the store.”
He pulls into the super market parking lot and stops the bike. “I’ll wait.”
“Not necessary. I really need to be alone right now.”
“You sure?”
The thrift shop across the street is my main objective, but I don’t need Billy hanging around while I shop for second hand clothes.
I climb off the bike and hand him the helmet. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for breakfast. Guess I’ll see you around.”
I start to turn away when I hear, “Wait.”
Billy gets off the bike, removes his helmet and puts his hands on my shoulders. He leans close, his breath warm on my face. “Minnie Mouse. Why are you afraid to look in my eyes?”
I squirm under his touch and fix my gaze on his lips, which, by the way, are extremely sexy.
“Not afraid,” I mumble and go for a diversion. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Shut up and kiss me.”
His lips curve into a smile. “No problem.”
He moves his hands to my waist and pulls me tight against his body. I gasp with pleasure at the sensation of his muscular body pressed against mine. He lifts a hand and slides it across my cheek, threading his fingers through my hair until his palm rests against the back of my head. He tilts my head back. I feel his lips brush against my ear and shiver with anticipation.
His cheek scrapes across mine, his mouth just inches from my lips. “Look at me, Minnie,” he whispers. “Tell me what you see.”
I lift my gaze and stare into his eyes, fully expecting to see my own face, possibly streaked with bits of sticky syrup and framed with flattened helmet hair. Nothing scary. Just something I’d rather not experience right now. But someone changed the channel.
My breath hitches in my chest. “Fire,” I say. “I see a smoldering fire.”
Billy’s mouth grazes my cheek. “Smoldering, huh? Let’s make it burn hotter.”
His lips touch mine, tentative at first, until I wrap my arms around his neck and try to climb inside his skin. He deepens the kiss, his silky tongue slipping into my mouth. I’m transported to another place. My world consists of all things tactile. The sound of our breathing. The smell of his leather jacket. The warmth of his body against mine. The softness of his lips. The heat spiraling through my body like wildfire. More. I want more.
I’m brought back to earth by the sound of a honking horn and a raucous shout, “Hey, you two, get a room!”
Embarrassed, I push away from Billy and stare at the ground, trying to get my breathing under control. Billy grabs my hand and kisses the back of it like an errant knight wooing a fair maiden. This strikes me as hilarious and I snort laugh. Also embarrassing.
Billy releases my hand and tilts my chin back. “I’m not leaving until you look at me one more time. I promise you, it’s safe.”
I look and see my own flushed face, the ghost of a smile touching my lips.
He bumps my forehead with his. “See you later. Walk safe.”
He climbs on the bike and tools away. I will my legs to stop trembling as I walk to the thrift store.
Chapter Nine
I’m standing in line at the checkout station, feeling righteous about the bounty in my shopping cart. Because I’m an unusual size (munchkin) I’m able to score some cool cast-off clothes. Two pair of designer jeans, plus a silk blouse and fitted blazer suitable for attending a funeral service, even though it hurts my heart to think about it. According to my calculations, the four garments will cost me less than fifty dollars.
The young woman in line ahead of me clutches a pair of stretchy pants and an oversized T-shirt. As she turns to place them on the conveyer belt, I see she is pregnant. Her belly pokes out in the space between her too-small shirt and jeans that gap at the waistband to accommodate the bulge. Her white-blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail fastened with a brown elastic band. A silver charm bracelet jingles as she fumbles for her money. She gives me a quick glance and a tentative smile.
I’m almost rendered speechless by the woman’s natural beauty. Her particular shade of blond hair does not come in a bottle. Her eyes are deep aquamarine. In the fleeting look we share, I’m not able to peer deeply into her soul. But I don’t need to see into her soul to tell she’s anxious and afraid. Her shoulders are hunched, her breathing rapid. Her gaze darts to and fro as if she’s looking for an escape route. I wonder what her story is. What circumstances bring her to a thrift store to find cheap clothes for her expanding body? Maybe she’s like me. Not the pregnant part; the broke part.
The cashier rings up woman’s clothes. Six dollars and seventy-five cents. She clutches a five-dollar bill in her hand and offers it to the cashier who mutters, “Not enough.”
The woman looks panicky. Her fingers grip the clothes as if the devil himself is trying to take them from her. In heavily accented English, she says, “It is all I have.”
I step forward and thrust two one-dollar bills at the cashier.
The cashier grunts and digs in the cash drawer for change. The blond woman places a hand on my arm. Her brilliant eyes sparkle with tears. “You so very kind. Thank you.”
M
y emotions are still shaky due to the news about Dani. I swallow a golf ball sized lump in my throat before I answer. “No problem.”
“I am called Aida,” the woman says.
“I’m Mel. When is your baby due?”
She flushes. Her gaze flicks away and back. “Soon,” she says and moves from the check stand.
Impulsively, I call, “Aida, wait. I’ll walk out with you.”
She casts a nervous glance toward the parking lot. “You hurry. I must go.”
I pay for my new duds (forty-eight dollars and twenty-two cents) and join her. Something about this woman who, after a closer look, is likely a teenager, gets to me. I know not why. I scribble my cell phone number on the back of the receipt and hand it to her. “If you need somebody to talk to, call me.”
Her hand is shaking as it closes around the paper. “Thank you, girl called Mel.”
I grin at her. “You’re welcome, girl called Aida.”
I follow her out of the store and watch her half-trot to a silver Toyota Land Cruiser and climb in the back seat. I peer through the tinted windows. Is there a baby car seat next to Aida? As the giant SUV pulls by, I see the driver is an angry-looking, sharp-nosed brunette, who is glancing over her shoulder and yelling at Aida. What the hell?
Aida is on my mind as I walk back to Nick’s. She’s obviously foreign. Obviously broke. The accent sounded Russian. Maybe a live-in nanny? If the woman driving the Land Cruiser is her boss, Aida has my utmost sympathy. If you drive a $70,000 SUV, surely you can afford to treat the help a little better.
Connie, Captain of the Motel Maids, is waiting for me when I return to Number Twelve, my home away from home. She pops out of the room next to mine. “One more for you,” she says with an evil grin. “Numero Dos.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, wondering which of the nine shades of hell I’ll be experiencing in numero dos.
I put my new used clothes in the closet, grab the cleaning cart and head for Room Two. The door is locked and Connie is the sole proprietor of the master key. I hear movement inside. The drapes part and a bristly face topped with wildly frizzy gray hair peers out at me. Now what?
“Check-out time is over,” Connie screeches. “You tell him, get out!”
Thanks a lot, Connie. I tap on the door. “Maid service, sir. Do you plan to stay another night?”
The door flies open and the space is filled by a large, hairy man wearing no clothes. He places his hands on flabby hips, and snarls, “You woke me up.”
The shock has turned me to stone. I desperately want to close my eyes, turn away, do something, anything to block out the naked, disturbing image standing before me. All I can do is stare and stammer, “Um, sir, uh, I…”
“Jesus Christ, Harvey, put some clothes on and get the hell out of here.” Nick yells, striding across the courtyard. “You want to stay another night, show me the money.”
Harvey, looking sullen, steps behind the door—thank you, God—and mutters, “Bernice kicked me out again. I might be back tonight.”
Nick gives me a friendly pat on the fanny. “Quite a sight, huh?”
I’m too stunned to respond.
“Harvey’s one of my regulars,” Nick says. “He and his wife have a contentious relationship so, more often than not, one of them shows up here for the night. Sometimes they stay here together for what they call ‘honeymoon night.’”
I rub my eyes to clear the image. “Clothing optional?”
Nick laughs and turns to leave. “Such is the life of a motel maid. See you later. Be sure to take a dinner break. Don’t want you passing out on me.”
Turns out Harvey’s room is a piece of cake. Once I haul out the empties (Pabst Blue Ribbon), all that remains is a moderately messy bathroom and hairy bed sheets. He leaves me a $10 tip and note of apology for the doorway flashing. Take that, Captain Connie.
When I finish up, I have time to do my own laundry and take a nap. When I wake, I’ll call home and risk the Wrath of Sandra.
****
“Let me get this straight.” Sandra’s voice is ominously calm. “Not only is Dani dead, but she’s been in the hospital since you arrived in 3 Peaks. In other words, everything you told me earlier was a lie.”
Before I placed the call, I decided the best policy was to do the right thing. Spill my guts. Come clean. Walk the straight and narrow path of righteousness.
“I didn’t want you to worry.” And nag me about coming home.
A huge, put-upon sigh bounces off the cell towers and hisses into my ear. “I’ll tell you what worries me,” Sandra says, “The fact you don’t trust your mother enough to tell the truth.”
“Sorry.” It’s all I can think of to say.
A long silence follows while Sandra decides whether to stay mad or pump me for details. If I had to put money on it, I’d go for the second option. I stretch out on the bed and wait her out.
“Damn it, Mel, this sucks. I’m real sorry about Dani, but first, I need to know if you’re okay. Where are you staying? Please tell me it’s not a homeless shelter. Those places have bedbugs. Are you out of money? Shall I wire some to you?”
Option two.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it whooshes from my lungs in a gust of relief. I tell her about my job and living arrangements, possibly exaggerating a teensy bit. She’s totally baffled I landed a job as a waitress.
“How can that be? You’ve never waited tables. Nobody called me for a reference. And, you’re living in a motel? Is it safe?”
“Yep, got a dead bolt on the door. Besides, you know I can take care of myself.”
Sandra says, “Maybe you should come home.”
I’d been waiting for that comment and had my answer all prepped. No way I’m leaving 3 Peaks. But now is not the time to butt heads with my mother. “Maybe,” I agree and count to ten. “Might stick around here for a while, though. See how it goes.”
“I can be up there tomorrow if you need me.”
I bite back a shriek of horror and convince her to stay put, ending with, “Trust me, I’m fine.”
Our conversation winds down. I ask her to call Dani’s dad and finish with, “I love you, bye.” My finger is hovering over the end button when I hear, “Wait.”
I lift the phone to my ear.
“Almost forgot,” she says. “A letter came for you yesterday. From Dani. Want me to open it?”
The hair stands up on my arms and I’m slammed by waves of dizziness. I feel a strong sense of Dani’s presence. Even though I feel ridiculous, I sit up and look around the room. My gaze is drawn to a shaft of sunlight streaming through the window and then I see it. Caught in the prism of light, Dani’s soul shimmers like a butterfly beating its fragile wings against a windowpane, searching for escape. I gasp in surprise. Is Dani reaching out to me? A passing cloud blots out the sun and the image vanishes.
“Mel? Are you there?”
Though I’m desperate to know what’s in the letter, I can’t bear to hear it second hand. I find my voice and say, “Just forward it to me.”
“I’ll do better,” Sandra says. “Cutie Pie Brett has a run up there tomorrow. I’ll send it with him.”
I thank her even though I know C.P. Brett will be in spy mode. His orders will be to check out the following: Mel’s physical appearance. Does she look tired? Hungry? What about her living arrangements? Bedbugs? Is her workplace safe? Any new dings or bruises? Oral report due upon return to San Berdoo.
Can’t win ’em all.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, the missing in action motel maid, Rosa, shows up, which gives me a much-needed break. My second night on the job is as challenging as the first, minus major beer spillage. At half past seven, Helen bumps me with a hip. “Darrell’s back. He’s asking for you.”
“Darrell?”
“You know Darrell, the guy whose balls you wanted to kick through the top of his head.”
“Oh, him.” I mutter a few choice words under my breath. Helen s
ays, “Right on,” and sashays away.
I turn in a food order and look for Darrell, determined to be pleasant. He’s not with his buddies from the night before, but sitting in a booth across from another man whose back is to me. I approach cautiously, stopping well outside Darrell’s reach.
He stares at me through hooded eyes and speaks to the guy across from him like I can’t hear him. “Here she is. The chick I was telling you about. Cute but clumsy. Spilled about ten gallons of beer last night.”
Forgetting my vow of pleasantness, I bristle and glare at his chin. I have no desire to look in his eyes because I already know Darrell’s a damn bully. There’s only one way to deal with a damn bully. Offense, not defense.
“What’s your point? Do you want to order or not?”
Darrell winks at his friend. “Told ya she was sassy.”
The guy turns his head to check me out. It’s Eddie. His eyes widen with surprise. “You work here?”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I needed a job.”
Darrell is clearly confused. His gaze darts back and forth between Eddie and me. “You two know each other?”
“His wife is…” My throat closes and chokes off the words. I gulp back tears. “I mean she was my best friend.”
“Then I guess you know Dani died,” Clueless Darrell informs me.
I nod.
He reaches across the table and punches Eddie in the shoulder. “That’s why I brought this guy here tonight. To cheer him up, ya know?”
I nod again. What better way to mourn your wife’s death than to drink yourself into a stupor?
I take a step closer to Eddie. “I’d like to see Dani. Tell her goodbye. Maybe tomorrow morning?”
Eddie won’t look at me. “The graveside service is the day after tomorrow. You can come if you want.”
Affliction Page 5
