by Taryn Quinn
“Yes.” My voice was a squeak.
“This is amazing!”
“No, it’s really not. I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”
“Of course you can. You’re a kickass goddess who can do freaking anything. Let me come over, and we’ll talk about this. We can throw some cards and drink lots of wine. I’ll be a buffer between you and Rainbow.”
“Thanks. I think I just need to get out of here. Go think about it. Maybe go through my drawings and fix them up.”
“Okay, I get that. But is there something else going on? What did PMS do? I’ll kill him.”
I huffed out a laugh. My bestie would slay any dragon for me, that was for sure. “He didn’t do anything. I mean, we did a lot of stuff, but none of it was bad. Exactly.”
I touched the burn on the side of my lip, and then I got up and went to my little shelf of balms and oils Luna had made for me. I swiped it over my lip as if I could erase everything that happened last night.
Sure.
My laptop dinged once, then twice. I crossed back to my kitchen and closed it without reading the email I knew was waiting for me—or would be soon, if it wasn’t already. I didn’t know how to answer Preston right now.
“Ry? My spidey sense is vibrating like my rabbit, girl. What’s going on?”
“I need to figure some stuff out. Then I promise I’ll talk about it.”
“Seriously, do I need to get my shovel?”
“No. But I think we both need to have a little discussion.”
Luna didn’t answer, which of course was all I needed to know.
“Looks like we both have some tea to spill,” Luna said finally.
“With all of the wine. I don’t think tea will cover it.”
“Are you sure you can do this trip with Hurricane Rainbow alone?”
“No.” I laughed. “But I think I need to. I need to ground myself. I’m a freaking mess about everything.”
“I hate this. You should let me come over.”
“Rainbow is gassing up the Rainbow Mobile and we’re heading out.” It probably wouldn’t be that quick, but if I saw Luna right now, I’d just turn into a blubbering mess.
“Make sure you at least text me while you’re on the road, so I can make sure you’re all right.”
“Yeah. I will.” My eyes were stinging, but I didn’t cry.
There was nothing really to cry about. I just had to get a handle on the chaos inside me.
All of it.
“Take care of you,” Luna said, her voice wavering.
“Take care of you,” I replied.
I set my hand on top of the laptop, pushing PMS out of my head. I needed a little space from him. From him and I together especially. It felt like too much too soon. I’d known him for days. Not even weeks. Literally days and I was so damn twisted up about him.
This wasn’t me. Not at all. I wasn’t the girl to swing full on into…
Nope.
No.
Definitely not the L-word.
No way.
That was my mother. Not me. Never me.
I picked up my laptop and plugged it in to charge. I had things to do before my mother got back.
Twenty-Four
Rainbow’s version of car tunes included a tape deck from 1987, and I was pretty sure most of the tapes were from about the same timeframe. Didn’t CDs trump cassette tapes by then?
Not in the Rainbow Mobile evidently. I now had listened to a random mix of Bon Jovi, Whitesnake, and a detour into the 70s with some Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac.
It had been a long damn trip out of the city.
Drawing on the Airstream was…interesting. I’d given up about two hours into the first leg of our trip. No amount of noise-cancelling headphones could combat Rainbow’s singing. At least this was one of my favorite songs from Zep.
I set my notebook on the shelf behind the large couch that made up the back half of the space. Rainbow had ripped out most of the interior and turned it more into a little house on wheels. It was surprisingly comfortable compared to the vans I’d traveled in with her during my childhood.
At least this part of my mother had evolved.
Things were still mismatched in her flea market style. Macrame wall hangings warmed up the cold steel surfaces. She’d covered the walls in tapestries and reclaimed wood from various beaches she’d been to over the years. I kept track of her whereabouts through her social media.
She’d cashed in on the van-life aesthetic that had populated TikTok and Instagram. It kept her mostly on the road and in gas money. She could ship out her crafts and yarn from nearly any town in her travels.
But the fiber arts community converged on Bear Mountain every year just before the influx of autumnal traffic. This part of of New York was beyond gorgeous, and the hiking trails were made for late summer and fall.
The Rainbow Mobile shook and the bungee cords my mother had strapped across her bookcase held back the rattling books and trinkets from falling over. I held onto the sides of the Airstream as I made my way up to the front.
I dropped into the seat next to her, and the yowling cat sing-a-long came to an end.
“Hey, baby. I thought you were working.”
“I’ll work when we stop. A little too bumpy.”
“Yeah, there was a few summer storms. Some of the roads are covered in debris from flooding.” She tucked her foot up against her butt, resting her knee against the door as she navigated the turning lane to get across the bridge.
“You know if you ever got in an accident, you’d be paralyzed, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax.” She bounced in her seat that definitely hadn’t been original to the Airstream. It was like a freaking 70s recliner and a trucker seat had a baby. “You’re way too tense, sweetheart. Look at all of this. Trees and tiny little houses jammed into the mountain as far as the eye can see.”
“Those tiny houses are probably a million dollars minimum.”
She shrugged. “The suits come up from the city to experience all this. Most of them don’t appreciate it. Those kinds of places should be for people who would love the view.”
“Not all of them ignore the view.”
“I’ve been with tons of these suits. It’s just status to have a waterfront house. They don’t enjoy them.”
“But you did.”
“Damn right. They may have been stopgaps instead of the love of my life kinda guys and that’s okay. Each of them gave me a little something.”
Usually money.
Or tears.
Sometimes both, but mostly tears.
I glanced out my window as we approached the bridge. The mountains loomed with the late summer green dotted with the first hints of fall. The Hudson River widened under us snaking its way into the valley. “You always got your heart broken.”
“It’s better to offer your heart than to keep it locked away, baby.”
I folded my arms over my middle and turned toward her. “Didn’t work out for you so well.”
“I’m happy with my lot in life. I have my freedom and I’ve had amazing men in my life. A few women too.”
My eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”
She shrugged and gave me a wide smile. “Women know what women like. And then sometimes all you need is yourself.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That’s true.”
“Besides, you know all about that.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I covered my face. “We will never speak of that again, thanks.” Having my mother find my glass dildo was about as horrific as it could get.
Another thing I could thank PMS for. He’d tossed my moon-topped sex toy on the sofa, where Rainbow had found it spearing up between the cushions like a glass simulated penis.
Which had led to a fun convo about chasing your pleasure wherever and however you could, and did I need the link to her favorite lube, the one that offered both pleasant warming sensations and lots of rainbows and tingles?
I’
d declined. Sparks literally shot off already from my connection with PMS. Any more tingles and a beloved body part might end up maimed.
“But I get the impression you have a man in your life.”
I looked back out the window. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it? Is he married?”
“What? No. Definitely not. I don’t go there at all.”
“I didn’t either. I usually found out too late when it happened. But a wedding ring isn’t necessary to make a man unavailable.”
“Oh, that’s definitely not our problem.”
I hadn’t meant to elaborate. And in reality, there really shouldn’t be an us. We didn’t fit together in any logical sense. It was just chemistry. It had to be.
Despite what he said, I suspected PMS was looking for the perfect woman to step in and fill his house with two-point-five kids and host dinner parties. He might not even realize how well he was built for exactly that.
That wasn’t me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted children. I hadn’t ever really considered it. But PMS had future stamped on his very patrician forehead. Didn’t he understand we were probably just a phase?
Even if it was getting harder to convince myself of that.
Having a witch for a girlfriend was novel at first. Sex was all well and good—and mercy, we were really good at that part—but it didn’t make for a lasting relationship. And if I did let him all the way in, I wasn’t sure I could actually let him go.
It was better not to get used to him.
“Ahh, so it’s just sex?”
“Yes—no. I don’t know. We’re intense, and the only reason he’s into me is because we were thrown together for a week. He’s April’s boss. I filled in for her this week when she went on vacation.”
“Why do you sell yourself short?” My mother curled her fingers tighter on the wheel. “He sees how beautiful and capable you are. Bonus points that you have a good sexual side.”
“Yes, but it’s too fast.”
“Sometimes it happens fast.”
“Yeah, and then it burns out.”
“It might.”
I jerked my gaze toward her.
She flipped her honey-colored hair over her shoulder. A few thin braids with wooden beads clacked together as she huffed out a sigh. “It might just be a fling. Is there a reason to cut things off? Is he moving out of state?”
“No.”
“Is he dying?”
“What? No.” Just the thought of him not being on this earth made my chest ache.
“Then what’s the issue? Take it slow if you want. That’s how relationships work, kiddo. It’s not an instantaneous thing.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I pulled my phone out and found an email notification waiting for me. Part of me wanted to open it, but the rest of me swiped ignore and went to my social media apps. More shares of my little comic. A surprising number of people wanted me to post more.
I knew how things went in the land of the internet. People had short attention spans. So, why hadn’t they moved on yet?
I clicked the phone’s display off and tossed it on the dash. “Wake me when we get there.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
I wasn’t sure how long I hid in the oblivion of sleep. I woke to the loud slap of metal against metal. The hard whack of metal being pounded into the ground was one I was well-acquainted with. I grabbed my phone and shoved it in my back pocket before I hopped out to help her make camp.
She already had the overhang set up—which pretty much was just four posts and a piece of canvas strung between them. I was almost sure it was the same one we’d always used for cover during the rainy seasons.
I’d been the one to waterproof it with three layers of poly because I’d been tired of either getting wet outside or living in a steam bath inside our various vehicles during the summer months.
From vans to RVs, we’d had just about all of them in my life. We’d even lived out of a car for a while when I was really young. I only remembered because it was a hideous green that looked like pea soup. It even had the ham chunks, only they were rust spots.
“What do you need help with?”
“I got it. Why don’t you take a walk? There’s a stream over that way. Stretch those long legs of yours.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded as she hauled a Coleman cooler out of the back storage panel. “By the time you get back, I’ll have burgers ready.”
“Real burgers or are you a vegetarian again?”
“I’m back to eating meat. I was always hungry.”
I grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Wait.” She held up a finger and disappeared into the Airstream. She came back out with my crossbody bag, which held all my on-the-go art supplies and my notebook. “Take these. Maybe you’ll be inspired.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Come on. You used to love to sketch on the rocks all the time. I’d find you sunning on any available boulder with any scrap of paper you could find.”
I took the bag from my mother and gave her an impulsive hug. “I could use a little of that.”
She quickly gripped my shoulders and held on tighter. “I really missed you, baby.”
My eyes stung, but I pulled back. “Yeah. Me too.” Today was just a little too much from every angle. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Just come back before dark.” I couldn’t count how many times she’d said the same thing when I went off to explore as a kid.
I wasn’t exactly dressed for exploring, but I’d been smart enough to drag out my hiking boots before Rainbow had gotten back to my apartment with supplies.
I followed the signs for the creek as the sun streamed through the trees. I heard the rush of water before I saw it. The scent of it lured me into quickening my stride.
The incline had me skipping down the path, grabbing onto a few of the trees to slow my descent. Finally, the dirt path turned into large slabs of shale and smooth water-worn rocks. The stream was running fast thanks to the storms my mother had mentioned.
But there was enough of a path for me to climb up away from the water to get a good view of the endless trees and the mountains in the distance. Of all the places we’d lived, New York had always been my favorite.
Probably why I’d finally landed in the middle of the state. I’d never quite been a city girl, but I definitely wasn’t made for rural life. Kensington Square was the best of both worlds. Close enough to a major city, but far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about crime.
This was a helluva view though. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, then immediately opened my texts to send it to…
I stared at the contact name I’d instinctively gone for.
Not Luna.
PMS.
Luckily, I didn’t have enough bars to send to anyone because I wasn’t sure which one would win.
I took a few more photos because it was gorgeous and my phone was out anyway, and then I shoved it back in my pocket and found a flat rock to settle on.
Maybe Sylvia and Roz would enjoy some outdoor activity. Would Roz get Sylvia a cat pouch like Preston had for Smoky? Assuming he ever used it.
Hmm, could I bribe him through sensual means to wear the Pussy Papa pouch?
Not relevant now, Moon.
Moving on. Sylvia was a fox, but maybe she’d enjoy an adventure.
Maybe Smoky would too.
Ugh. Stop thinking about him. You have drawings you need to revise for Penn.
I flipped to a fresh page and began sketching out the usual windowsill that Sylvia sat at and surveyed her kingdom. Roz lived in an apartment building overlooking a street much like the bustling business district of Kensington Square. The fox often lusted after the baked goods of The Honey Pot. Of course if my comic ever did go out there in the world, I’d have to rename the bakery.
As I did quick little studies of Sylvia to get the poses down, I found myself sketching the gray cat again. The nebulous
idea that kept knocking at my subconscious this last week suddenly had three legs.
I slammed my sketch book closed.
That wasn’t in the plan. The comic was about Roz and Sylvia. I shoved my pencils into my bag and got up.
My rumbling stomach saved me from any more introspection. Instead, I headed back to the campsite, the scent of hamburgers pushing thoughts of Preston and Smoky to the back of my mind.
Music was playing. It was always playing when it came to my mother. She was singing along to CCR in her off-key way as she flipped corn, still in the skins, on the mini portable grill.
“Oh, there you are. Just in time. Go wash up, and we’ll have some food and chat. You can help me with some of the skeins I need to make up for tomorrow.”
I didn’t really want to chat, but it was the price of food. Well, I’d paid for the food too, but that was neither here nor there when it came to Rainbow.
“Oh, grab your cards too,” she called out. “I met this guy online. We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow at the festival.”
“Of course you are,” I muttered to myself.
But at least doing a reading for my mother would help get a certain lawyer off the topic of conversation.
I stepped up into the Airstream. My mother had transformed the couch into a bed and set out my PJs for later like I was still eight years old. The sweetness of it got me—enough that I had to sit down for a second. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something for me. Even before I’d broken off from my mom, I’d had to learn how to be self-sufficient because she hadn’t been around much when she was involved with one of her guys.
I pulled my phone out to put on the makeshift charger station she had on a small shelf. Just as I was about to plug it in, it rang in my hand. There were barely two bars, and I didn’t recognize the number. But something told me to pick up.
At least the cell service at the camping area was better than by the water.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ryan Moon?”
“Yes…” He sounded familiar.
“I’m the vet over at Kitten Around. Grant Thorne?”
The more he spoke, the more his Irish accent flowed over the line. I could feel the tension in his voice.
