The soot and grime clinging to his skin answered the question, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“In that case, my suggestion would be to omit that unsavory piece of information from your flyer.”
“Ya think?”
Suddenly I was feeling pretty good about the burgeoning connection I was making with my survival buddy.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I ask you a favor?”
A favor? Like I’d say no. Pretty much, at this point, he could ask me to wade through the LA county sewer system after Thanksgiving and I’d say ‘pretty please.’
“Of course. Anything.”
“Can you drive for me?”
It wasn’t what I’d been expecting, but certainly driving him around was preferable to a sewer stomp. Still, I was slightly bummed I couldn’t be of more service. “Sure, you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just not feeling real good.”
Bodhi walked around to the passenger side while I took my place in the driver’s seat, settling into the leather interior. Wow, my butt was instantly pampered in the plushness of my upgraded ride. Perhaps I’d been too busy escaping certain doom to have noticed the luxury before but now I was making up for lost time. I finally understood the hoopla surrounding this car. It was like a gigantic slice of billowy angel food cake cushioning my backside. Had Bodhi not been beside me, I probably would have groaned in pleasure like the vehicularly-deprived hillbilly I was. But thankfully I’d been given just enough upbringing to fake my way through upscale situations.
Reaching for the key, I quickly realized there wasn’t one, just a ‘start’ button on the dashboard. Well, slap me cross-eyed! What the hell was this, black magic? First the ‘fairy godmother’ enchanted trunk and now this. Wide-eyed, I brushed my fingers over the button, marveling at the science fiction of it all.
Sidetracked by my new alien spacecraft, I hadn’t noticed Bodhi staring at me questioningly from the passenger side seat. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced of my ability to pilot the thing. I flashed him my most trustworthy smile letting Bodhi know that, yes, I could be counted on to deliver him safely to his desired destination. But much like a rescue pup exploring her new forever home, I just needed a few uninterrupted moments to acclimate myself to my new surroundings.
Skeptical but patient, Bodhi allowed me the benefit of the doubt and smiled encouragingly before covertly checking his seatbelt to confirm it was securely in place. If he was expecting fireworks, I didn’t disappoint.
Reaching for the button, I confidently pressed it with my index finger as I stepped on the gas pedal. The engine revved with intensity, filling the cab with a high-pitched grinding noise. Cringing, I glanced over at my passenger hoping he hadn’t noticed my blunder, but the smile on his face told me he had.
“It was already on,” he stated, and there was no escaping the amusement in his tone.
“Yeah.” I grinned through my embarrassment. “I got that.”
“And, uh, foot on the brake when you hit the button. Not on the gas.”
I flashed him a thumbs up as I put the car in gear and, without further incident, pulled back onto the road. Although I was looking straight ahead, I could see from the corner of my eye that Bodhi was still watching me with that entertained look on his face. I’m not going to lie, I soaked up the attention. I mean this was an epic moment in my otherwise uneventful existence. Popstar Bodhi Beckett and I had an inside joke. How weirdly awesome was that?
After all was said and done, maybe we’d become friends after all. I pictured Bodhi calling me up whenever he was in town and arranging for us to meet somewhere for lunch. We’d laugh about the chloroform joke and the hilarious moment when I revved the car engine in the middle of a firestorm. Okay, so maybe I was attaching too much meaning to our very brief conversation, but I really did want to know the guy, if only to satisfy my own out-of-control curiosity. How often did a girl like me get the chance to converse with a guy like him?
Still, forging a connection would be an uphill battle. What did I have to barter in return for inside information on his glamorous life—a really good shampoo and head massage?
Chancing another glance in his direction, I was disappointed to see the amusement had faded from his face and now Bodhi was staring intensely out the window. His sudden change in demeanor put an end to my make believe lunch date. Okay, so maybe I needed to be less ambitious. Lunch was a lot to ask for. I’d be totally cool with a backstage pass and a shout out from the stage. Sure I was a country music fan at heart, but I could be swayed over to the dark side for the right bare-chested hero.
Sirens in the distance brought me back to the present. I needed to focus on the task at hand, which was to put some distance between us and the end of the frickin’ world.
Cruising quietly down the main road, we were no longer the only lost and displaced souls fleeing the blaze. As more upended people from the lower elevations joined our exodus, we found ourselves in a traffic jam rivaling even the most crowded of Los Angeles freeways.
Silence settled between Bodhi and me and the longer it went on, the more my optimism of a connection between us faded. At this point, I’d just be lucky to get a mention during one of the countless interviews he was sure to give about his harrowing near death experience.
“Pull over!”
Startled at his sudden outburst, the desperation in Bodhi’s voice triggered an immediate reaction, and I swerved to the side of the road. He was out of the car before I’d come to a complete stop, stumbling to the bushes where he proceeded to retch.
Did I offer assistance? Let him be? What was the protocol for barfing celebrities?
“Are you okay?” I called out the window.
Please be okay.
“Do you need help?”
Please don’t need my help.
Certainly, I wasn’t insensitive to Bodhi’s plight. On the contrary, I wanted desperately to assist him, but keeping my distance was somewhat necessary given my notoriously weak stomach. As a child, my mother had coined the phrase ‘Sympathy Puker’ and that summarized me perfectly. Even the sound of a hairball forcefully expelling from a pint-sized kitten was enough to send me to the toilet yaking.
“Can I take you to the hospital?” I offered, swallowing back an unflattering belch. I was already dangerously close to spewing despite not even being in his gag radius.
Bodhi lifted his head in an apparent bid to answer my question. Too weak and overwhelmed by nausea to respond, he bent back over the bushes and continued to vomit. My stomach churned, knowing what needed to be done. I owed him more than a shout through the window. If Bodhi needed my help I’d suck it up. Literally. He’d driven through a wall of flames for me, so the least I could do was hold onto my dinner long enough to help the poor guy back to the vehicle.
I gingerly walked around the car, already beginning to feel faint. Bodhi’s audible soundtrack was getting louder and more intense the closer I inched. Once his convulsing frame was in sight, the queasiness attacked from all angles. And even though I tried to hold it back, my stomach proved to be a cowardly bastard.
In a most unladylike fashion, I let loose a series of loud retching burps. So obnoxious were the gagging sounds exploding from my esophagus, Bodhi had to interrupt his own puke party to interact with me.
“Go,” he said, frantically waving me off. Apparently he didn’t require any of my generous assistance. I choked and heaved my way back to the driver’s seat. The second I was out of his earshot, the gagging subsided, my heated skin cooled, and embarrassment set in.
A couple minutes passed before the passenger door opened. Weak from his ordeal, Bodhi leaned in, one brow raised in my direction. What could I say to put a fun-loving spin on my escapades?
“I have no excuse,” I blurted.
I often found full disclosure to be the best way to combat gaping disbelief.
Bodhi grinned. “Well, okay then.”
I sighed. “The sights and sounds of vomiting trigger a gag reflex in me. It’s kind
of, you know, like a medical condition.”
“Huh, wow, a medical condition even. That’s wild, Breeze.”
That face. He was mocking me. We exchanged amused glances. Dang, he was a cutie.
“You must be fun at parties,” he said.
I laughed. “Surprisingly, I’m rarely invited to parties. I can never figure out why.”
“It’s a goddamn mystery.”
Despite the fact that he was being adorably interactive, Bodhi still sported a sickly pale shade and I watched him wobble like a newborn colt taking his first steps.
“Dude, you need to sit down. I’m pretty sure you puked out last week’s breakfast.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I can probably drive now.”
“Um, no.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? This is my car… sort of.”
“What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”
“Well, I might have sort of stolen the car.” He was so matter-of-fact in his statement that I almost applauded his cool.
“So, here’s the deal, Bodhi. There’s no gray area when it comes to stolen vehicles. Either you have permission to drive them or you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t.” Grimacing, I retracted my hands from the steering wheel like it was a hot potato. “Wonderful. I hope the owner has insurance.”
“It’s the nanny’s. But I’m sure there’s insurance. And anyway, without me, the nanny’s Range Rover would be very dead.”
“Wait, you have a nanny?” I asked. “That’s…unexpected.”
“Not my nanny. Jesus. How old do you think I am—ten?”
Pressing my lips together, I bit back a smile. “I was more insinuating you had kids of your own, not that you were the kid yourself.”
“Oh.” He laughed. “Sorry. Okay. Totally misinterpreted that. I’m used to people thinking I’m a teenager so I just… never mind. Okay, that was embarrassing. Anyway, no kids. The nanny’s car belonged to the house I was staying at. I stole it to stay alive.”
“Well then, I think you’ll be forgiven.”
It was clear Bodhi had been closer to the flames than me and, although I was more than curious what happened to him higher up on the hill, I instinctively understood he wasn’t ready to talk about his trials with me, or anyone, just yet.
Misunderstanding my silence, Bodhi took it as ambivalence.
“Look, if you don’t feel comfortable driving this car, I’ll take over.”
“Nah. What’ll they do, sue me? I don’t have anything to take anyway.”
“That’s the spirit.”
We laughed together as he lowered himself back into the passenger seat. “It’s just as well that you drive because, not only is this not my car, but I was driving without a license too.”
“Of course you were.”
“Again, not really by choice. My driver’s license and my phone are both currently burnt to a crisp.”
I eyed him with interest. “You’ve had quite the night.”
“You have no idea.”
The amusement faded at his solemn admission. I sought him out in the ambient lighting and, when our eyes met, an understanding passed between us. Choices had to be made tonight that neither one of us wanted to make but we’d survived and were stronger for it. Maybe I didn’t know the extent of his ordeal, but I had an inkling of the terror. I touched the knot on my forehead. Yes, I could sympathize.
Bodhi set aside his own raw memories to attend to mine. “That looks painful. How’d you get it?”
“I collided with a retaining wall. Totaled my car.”
“Shit.”
“That’s why I was running down the street in the first place. Lucky you.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. “It was lucky for me.”
“How do you figure? I nearly got you killed.”
“I almost died, with or without your help. It felt like the apocalypse up there… like I was the last human alive in a wasteland. When I saw you, I can’t begin to describe the relief I felt just knowing I wasn’t the only one left standing.”
In the strangest way, I understood his reasoning. I’d never felt so alone as I made my way down that deserted street. Nothing about what we’d survived was within the norms of reality.
“And,” I perked up, appreciating his viewpoint. “You wouldn’t have had my valuable assistance while you were puking.”
“Yes.” Bodhi chuckled. “The worst help I’ve ever received.”
I pulled out into the pile up of cars, and as we crept down the hill an easy camaraderie formed. Now that I understood he didn’t blame me for putting him in harm’s way, I was able to relax.
Bodhi pointed to the Gatorade bottle sitting in the center console. “Do you mind if I have a drink? My throat feels like I swallowed sawdust.”
I winced, not wanting to reveal the truth about the silent passenger traveling in the adjustable cup holder. “It’s not Gatorade.”
“It’s not?”
I shook my head. “It’s Winston.”
“What?” His forehead creased as he examined the bottle.
“Winston is a goldfish.”
“A goldfish?” His voice was tinged in disbelief. “We saved a goldfish?”
I shrugged. There was nothing I could say to defend myself.
“I mean, I accepted the rats… and the bag with claws. Hell, I even get why you saved the yappy little shit in the backseat, but a goldfish?”
I held out my hands and shrugged again.
Bodhi didn’t appear the least bit bothered by my admission. In fact, he seemed mildly amused if the lazy smile were any indication. Maybe he’d already learned to accept my peculiarities. I found it was easier that way, just dump all my weirdness on the floor and get it out of the way.
I watched as Bodhi opened compartments.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Something to drink that doesn’t have a fish swimming in it. You don’t by chance have a water bottle in the cat bag, do you?”
“No, just the cat.”
“See, earlier today if someone were to say that to me I’d think it was weird but now, animals in bottles and bags seem entirely reasonable.” Bodhi eased back in his seat, giving up the quest for liquid. “So, is your name really Breeze?”
“Breeze Marigold Cassidy.”
“Jesus.”
“Yep,” I nodded my agreement. “Hippie parents. It could have been worse; their second choice was Lotus Windsong Cassidy. My mother thinks unique names make unique people.”
“Well, she might be onto something because I’ve never met anyone like you.”
There was no mistaking the inflection in his voice. He’d meant that as a compliment and my skin flushed accordingly. He had a mesmerizing effect on me. I felt like a schoolgirl sitting next to her crush.
“Nah,” I waved off the compliment for some self-deprecating fun. “I would’ve been just as weird if they’d named me Lauren.”
“I didn’t say weird, I said unique. There’s a difference.”
“A very slight one but, yes, thank you for that.”
He smiled, eyes twinkling in the dimming light. “Believe what you will but I like your name. It suits you.”
More heat crawled up my neck. “Thank you.”
Get it together, Breeze.
“Is Bodhi your real name?”
He seemed genuinely rattled by my question. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” I hesitated, sparing him a glance. “I thought maybe it was a stage name or something.”
After a moment of silence, he replied, “No, it’s just… sorry. Bodhi’s my real name, yeah.”
Whoa, what the hell was that? His adverse reaction to such a seemingly innocent question intrigued me. What was up with this guy and why couldn’t I shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye?
Trying to stay as cool and unaffected as possible, I asked, “So, where to?”
He shrugged. “I’m currently homeless with no phone, no wallet, and no clothes.”
I nodded before delivering what I hoped was a witty zinger. “So, I should drop you off at the pier then?”
9
Bodhi: Taste of Freedom
Breeze Marigold Cassidy pulled up to a plain-looking one-story home and parked on the street. But instead of getting out of the car and heading inside, I watched her case the place with the efficiency of a burglar.
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. What the hell was she doing? What the hell was I doing? I should have known better than to trust a total stranger. I knew nothing about her and still I’d accepted her offer to stay at her place for the night. Chances were she’d tipped off the media and in a matter of seconds I’d have a barrage of cameras flashing in my face. How much would she make by selling me out? Dammit. Even after everything I’d been through tonight, sleeping under the pier sounded preferable to this crap.
Lips pressed in a tight line, I shook my head and contemplated the best way to get out of this mess. I wasn’t pissed at her as much as I was irritated at myself. I knew better than to let my guard down. How many times did I have to pay the price before I finally got it through my dense skull that putting blind faith in strangers never turned out well? If Breeze’s behavior was any indication, I had at least one more lesson to learn.
When she’d brought up the idea of bringing me home, I’d been in no position to decline. Actually, no, that wasn’t true. I easily could have refused her offer. One call, and I’d have my choice of any five-star luxury hotel. But being alone in some sterile, impersonal space was the last thing I’d wanted. Even if my father arrived to keep me company, he’d never be able to fully appreciate the sheer horror of what I’d survived. But Breeze would.
I was in this situation now because I didn’t want just any company—I wanted her company— the woman I’d survived hell with. Breeze got it. She’d lived the nightmare right alongside me. Years from now, when I retold the events of tonight, she would always be part of the narrative.
Suddenly I felt bad for my lack of faith in her. It’s not like she’d had time to network and sell me out. And if I thought about this logically and not with my typical blustery arrogance, I’d realize there was nothing staged about our meeting. Nothing planned or predicted. Everything that had happened to us tonight had been the result of pure happenstance.
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