by Amber Foxx
“He can’t hurt you, sugar. He’s—”
Shuddering, Jamie ran out the back door, and Mae followed him into the parking lot.
He opened the passenger side of his dusty, faded old van. When she looked inside she saw that some of the same contents that had cluttered it in August were going on his tour with him—the bicycle, the books, the desert dirt, the wrinkled maps, and the faded red toy kangaroo with one ear. Cuddling with the roo on the seat was an obese orange-and-white cat, its sides splayed out like a splat of spilled pudding. The cat didn’t seem to need checking on. He was fast asleep, but something needed attention—a bad odor.
“Jamie, your van stinks. You need to clean his litter box.”
“I cleaned it. It’s Gasser.” Jamie stroked the sleeping blob. “He farts a lot. Poor bloke, he can’t help it.”
Mae giggled. “You named him for it?”
“Nah. Lady at the shelter did. She said I was the only person who didn’t laugh at him. No one wanted him.” Jamie glanced down at his new companion, who looked up at him with a lazy green blink. Gasser’s chubby cheeks and double chin somehow gave his face the look of a smile. “But I think he’s perfect.” Jamie scratched under Gasser’s jaw. “He loves me already, y’know.”
“I’m sure he does, sugar. But is traveling good for him?”
“Yeah. Perfect travel cat. Passive, heavy, sleeps a lot.” Jamie lifted the cat and cradled him, displaying him for Mae to admire. “He’s great for anxiety, insomnia.”
He must not have been able to afford therapy. “You still have—”
“Nah. No worries. Pet him. He’s sweet.”
Mae stroked the animal’s head, and Gasser, dripping over Jamie’s arms, began purring. “Shouldn’t you leave him in your hotel? He needs some exercise. He could run around a little.”
“I know. Just got him at the shelter yesterday. Inspiration, y’know? We’re still getting the hang of this.” He sat and laid the cat in his lap, lightly stroking each of the tufted ears, then massaging Gasser’s broad back. “It’s my first stop. I sort of liked knowing he was out here, if I got nervous, y’know? But we’ll settle into it. El Paso, San Antonio, Austin—can’t believe I’m doing all that. Going all the way to your old home.”
“North Carolina?”
“And your other one. Norfolk, Virginia Beach.”
She’d moved to Norfolk for a job as a trainer after her separation, and worked as a psychic in Virginia Beach. He remembered all that about her, when he’d only known her those four days.
A sudden anxiety creased his brow. “They won’t have any hurricanes, will they?”
Only you. What a strange worry. “Not usually this late in the year. Season for ’em ends this month. They don’t come after the end of November but once every ten or twenty years, if that.”
“Dunno what to expect. Never been there, y’know? Southeast.”
Mae noticed pages of computer printout on the floor of the van in the passenger area, near Gasser’s food and water bowls. MapQuest directions, covered with fur and bits of cat kibble. That was a lot of paper, and she couldn’t picture him keeping it all straight.
“Is that how you're getting everywhere? You printed out directions?”
“Yeah. Hotels. Venues. Routes. I’m good. Got everything.”
“You don’t have a GPS thing? Or a smartphone with GPS?”
“Don’t need it.”
In other words, he couldn’t afford it. The portable sound system he had, a tall slender tower, looked new. She knew he hadn’t had that before. It must have set him back quite bit. “Look, you can’t read all that stuff while you drive. I don’t need my GPS, why don’t you borrow it? Or just take it?”
“Can’t do that.” He looked shocked at the idea. “Jeezus. You’d get lost.”
“I’m not going anywhere I’ve never been before. You are. I don’t need it.”
“Yeah you do.” Jamie stood, gently settling Gasser back onto his nest, a crumpled cat-hairy sweatshirt. “You wouldn’t have bought it if you didn’t need it. Don’t be giving me your stuff like I’m broke or something. I’m fine. I’m working.”
“Is your van okay?”
It was a 1986 Aerostar, and he used to drive it with the check engine light on. Jamie’s shoulders wriggled in a right-left shrug, the sure sign that he was evading a full answer.
Mae persisted. “Did you get the latch fixed? I hope you don’t still have the back gate tied shut with that wire.”
“Had some work done after you left.” He patted the van, looking at it as if some story played across its surface. “It’s all right.”
“I hope so. That van should have a serious checkup before driving two thousand miles. I don’t want you to break down or anything.”
“Fuck.” He started to slam the van’s door but stopped it before it hit and closed it gently—trying, Mae guessed, not to startle Gasser. The anger stayed in Jamie’s voice, though he hadn’t exploded. “Nothing’s breaking down, not me or the bloody van. All right?”
“All right.” Mae had almost forgotten how proud Jamie could be about not wanting help. She kept her voice soft and backed off from pushing him. “Reckon we’d better go in. I’ve left Stamos on his own a while.”
“Wait. Give me your phone number. I’ve ...” He gave her a shy smile, as bright now as he’d been dark and cloudy a moment ago. “I’ve got a new one.”
Out of work and broke, he hadn’t had a working phone last time she saw him. “That’s great, sugar.” They exchanged numbers, Jamie double-checking that he had entered hers into his contacts list correctly. She fixed it for him. He had half the numbers reversed. “I might not see you after the show. We may have to leave before you’re done. Don’t take it personally. Have a good rest of your show—and tour—”
“What? No—you can’t leave. I haven’t seen you for months. Jeezus.” He jammed his phone into his pocket and took both Mae’s hands. “Why are you leaving? Did I do something?”
“No.” A gentle lie would be better than the truth, that it might be an uncomfortable evening all round if Mae and Stamos stayed too long. “We hadn’t planned to be out late, that’s all.”
“Jesus. This is hard. It fucking rips it all open, y’know? I’m so glad you’re here, and you look so beautiful, and then I’ll go back to my hotel tonight and—fuck, you don’t need to hear that crap.” Jamie opened his arms to Mae, with sad eyes and a forced smile. “Give me a hug, love, pretend I didn’t make a scene.”
How could she refuse? She wrapped her arms around him, aware of how different he felt to hold now, not just a handful of bones and stringy muscles anymore, and he clasped her so hard she lost her breath. He radiated heat like something left in the sun too long. That hadn’t changed.
“Stay safe on your tour, sugar.” Mae pulled away. “Take good care of yourself.”
She hurried off before he could pull her in with those big black eyes or some silly joke that would undo the drama only to start it all over again.
Mae resumed her seat at the table with Stamos. “Thanks for being patient.”
He nudged her glass of wine toward her. “All is well with our fellow foreigner?”
She took a sip, sighed. “For now, I guess.”
“Are you all right? We can leave, if you want. I like his music well enough, but I don’t like how he acted with you.”
“He’s a little moody. Sorry you caught that side of him. He’s actually really sweet.”
“Is he willing to be just friends?”
“Probably not. But he’s heading out on a tour. I won’t run into him again.”
“Would it be bad if you did?” Stamos frowned, protective and concerned. “He’s not a stalker or anything like that, is he?”
“Goodness no, he’s the most harmless person in the world.” Except to himself.
Jamie came back onstage, and with his back to the audience, picked up a flute, seeming to take time to reflect on the next song. His energy had shifted, more i
nward, less exuberant. No jokes to open the set.
At the end of the flute solo, the applause rolled and faded. Jamie walked to the front and center of the stage, stood with a trained singer’s erect, open posture, and looked at Mae.
With no introduction, no accompaniment of drum, he sang a sweet, soaring ballad that showcased his extraordinary vocal and emotional range, his voice filling every corner of the room. The final lines said acceptance, but his eyes, never leaving hers, did not.
And though I know you can’t be mine
I’ll cherish this heartbeat of time.
Underneath the applause, Mae whispered to Stamos, “I don’t know what to do. If we leave he’ll be hurt, but if we stay he’ll be dragging himself through this all night. I don’t know what’s gonna mess up his show or upset him more.”
Stamos placed a warm, dry hand on hers and looked into her eyes. His voice was like dark brown velvet. “What about you? You’re thinking of him. That’s very kind, but he’ll be upset either way. What do you want?”
Jamie paused between songs. He seemed lost in some inner fog of indecision, scanning his array of instruments. What did she want? To see him suffer through unrequited love all night? In the first half he’d been showing off for her. Now that they’d spoken he was sad. Staying wouldn’t help. Stamos was right. It was hard to put herself first, but she needed to leave. Perhaps what was best for her might also be best for Jamie.
“Let’s go.”
On the walk back to the Coronet, Stamos remained quiet for several blocks, and Mae was grateful. He was calming to be around after Jamie, like the quiet after some noisy appliance cut off in the house. Stamos broke the silence as they approached the car. “Should we see if we can find some country music and cheer up?”
The idea surprised her, but it was the perfect antidote to worrying about Jamie. “I’d like that.”
Stamos took out his smart phone, searched, and considered his results. “Since you say you never go out, I suppose I’m the one who’ll know what band is best to dance to.” Mae agreed, and he changed to a map function in his phone, located their next destination, and smiled. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to the night life of Las Cruces.”
They danced until midnight. Mae felt freer and lighter than she had since her separation. Stamos was good for her. As they pulled out from the country bar in the Coronet, she thanked him.
“I thank you,” he replied, and took her hand. “We should do this again.”
His touch sent an unexpected charge of attraction through her. She’d been comfortable with him all night, scarcely aware of the sexual energy. Of course, it was natural—she liked him, and he was the best looking man she’d ever set eyes on—but she’d only had sex with three men in her whole life, her long-term high school boyfriend, and then her two husbands. All her life, she’d believed that you shouldn’t have sexual feelings for people you weren’t in love with. Stamos had that effect on her, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She didn’t know him well enough to act on the feelings. Not that he’d brought it up. Her body had. Good thing she’d left her car on campus, so they didn’t have any decisions to make about his coming in when dropping her off. She spoke slowly, “I’d like that.”
“I can show you around. Show you a very good time.”
Did he take after his Aunt Christina? Was he psychic? No, she’d read the sex into it, he hadn’t read her mind. It would have been a tacky way to suggest making love, and Stamos wasn’t tacky. Was he? So far he seemed downright elegant. She made a joke to cover her confusion. “Showing me around is great. What do you mean by show me a good time? Sounds like a phone number on a truck stop wall.”
With a low chuckle, he let go of her hand. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not ready. But ... if and when you are, I will be. You delight me.”
Chapter Three
Mae got in her dusty gray Focus and waved goodbye. Stamos gave her a wink and returned to the Coronet. Part of her was bubbling and happy, still warmed and elated by his kiss, but soon as she was alone, some other part of her felt the effect of seeing Jamie.
On the drive home to Truth or Consequences, almost an hour on I-25, Mae’s thoughts bounced back and forth between her attraction to Stamos and her worry about Jamie driving alone across the country. The little plastic disk on the dashboard where she could attach the suction foot of the GPS unit seemed to stare at her. The gadget spent most of the time in her glove compartment since school had started, and the drive on Christmas break—possibly with Stamos—would be Interstate 40 almost all the way. Jamie wasn’t on a straight and simple route, but he’d been too proud to take her GPS, too broke to buy one, and too anxious to travel without that big fat cat. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t told Wendy half of this. The sight of that decrepit van and the stack of MapQuest printouts bothered Mae so much she almost wished she hadn’t seen him. The best thing to come out of the encounter was seeing how graciously Stamos handled the interruption of their date.
Her phone rang as she pulled into the carport of her pea-green converted trailer house. Who would call this late? The screen read Jamie. This was new territory, having each other’s phone numbers. He had plunged right into it. Why?
She got out of the car, answering her phone as she climbed the steps under the big mesquite tree. Kicking a few of its fallen thorns off the front porch, she tried to aim her key into the lock in the dark. Since she hadn’t planned to go out, she hadn’t left an outdoor light on.
“Hey,” she said.
“Sorry.” He swallowed loudly. Was he eating or drinking, or was that some gulp of emotion? What was he apologizing for? “I mean—if ... Is this all right?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. If you’re still on your date, I can leave you alone.”
“No. We said goodnight. I’m home now.”
“I shouldn’t have done that song. Jeezus, when you left right after it I felt bad. Sorry. Really.”
The night had gotten cold. Mae unlocked the front door, with a glance at the full moon. The backyard hot spring would be nice, if she didn’t drop her phone in it. It would relax her while she listened to whatever Jamie needed to say. Sweet as he was, he didn’t make her feel peaceful. “It’s okay, sugar. It’s a pretty song. You couldn’t leave it out of your show.”
“Wendy says some pop star’ll probably cover it, swamp it with violins, and have a big hit.” He paused. “Dunno. Might happen. So what are you doing now?”
“I think I’m gonna soak in the hot spring.”
“You go to a spa in the middle of the night?”
“No, Niall and Daddy used to have this house as a tourist rental, and it has its own hot spring. I get to live here until I finish college. I love it.”
“Bet you do. That’ll feel nice. I’m in a motel.” He paused. Waiting for more, Mae went to her bedroom to undress and get into her bathing suit. She tossed her clothes into the laundry basket. Jamie said, “I’ve never slept in a motel before.”
“In your whole life?”
She pulled her suit up, grabbed a towel, and let herself out the back door.
“Never. Isn’t that weird? Never traveled alone before, either. We always had rental houses when Dad had his research gigs and all that visiting professor stuff. So I’ve lived all over half the world without ever being by myself in a motel. Kinda funny. Looks like a dorm.”
Mae walked down the flagstone path to the big metal tub in the center of the bare dirt backyard. The cold air made her shiver, but increased her anticipation of the hundred-and-ten-degree water. “I’ve never slept in a dorm.”
“Little fridge. TV. Desk. Bed. All in one room. People slamming doors, thumping around in the hall. Like a fucking dorm. Ow!”
“You okay?” She turned on the spigot that released the underground hot water into the tub, and put the drain cover in place. A few shreds of clouds scudded over the moon, and the dry leaves of the small mesquite tree near the spring rattled.
“Yeah, there’s this sharp thing in the edge of the carpet when I go into the bathroom, I keep stepping on it. Can’t see what in bloody hell it is. Staple or something.” Water ran, and cut off. “Feels strange. Not the sharp thing—well, yeah, that does—I mean, the whole thing. First night on my own on the road.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yeah.” She heard him brushing his teeth and spitting. “Sorry. Can’t put that off, y’know? Just ate.” More water and spitting. “Had a pint of soy ice cream and three cookies.”
“Before you go to bed?”
“Mm. Is that a bad idea? Ow! Jeezus. Stepped on that bloody thing again.”
“That much sugar might keep you awake.”
A creaking sound, like a recliner chair opening up. “Dunno. Sometimes food makes me sleepy. Gasser’s supposed to help me sleep, though. Hope so. Need to break this habit. Gained twenty pounds since I saw you. Nice to be able to afford to eat, but, Jeezus, I need to stop there.”
Mae wanted to affirm this decision without offending him, but wasn’t sure how to say it. He was at his right weight, but it sounded like he’d reached it with some unhealthy eating habits. Vegan junk food. Jamie rambled on. “Gasser weighs twenty pounds. He’s swag-bellied, like Falstaff. Practically drags on the ground when he waddles around. Doesn’t look like that much when it’s on me, guess it’s spread out, except for that inch—that looks like five pounds in one place, but you see twenty pounds all in one cat, it’s a lot of weight.”
Mae stepped into the hot spring and knelt in the first inches of water, enjoying the contrast between the cold on her upper body and the heat beginning to bathe her legs. She wondered what Jamie was getting at, if anything. Was he worried about his weight? He looked really good. Maybe he was worried about his cat’s weight. “It was sweet of you to adopt him. I bet you’ll take good care of him. Maybe get him in shape after a while.”
“Yeah.” Jamie’s voice grew tender. She heard a small grunt, a kind of ooff, and he spoke, apparently to the cat. “Yeah. There you go, mate. Better?” Then to Mae again, “Sorry. Had to pick him up. He can’t get up in my lap without help. His owner had him declawed, so he can’t climb, and the poor bloke’s too big to jump.”
