Once Upon A Road Trip

by Angela N. Blount

Vince adjusted his rear view mirror, giving him a momentary glimpse into the back seat. “Oh, you mean the fire department stuff? That’s my call radio and a few things I’d need to work a scene. Everything else is at the station just up the road.”

  “Oh. Are you supposed to be on call this week?” Angie peered out her window at the brick-walled volunteer fire station as they approached, remembering it from the day before.

  “Not while you’re here,” he said. “I haven’t taken call much since I started college, but I did just about every night back in high school. I’m trying to stay in shape for it though, in case my class schedule eases up next semester.”

  Angie’s conscience took her back to earlier in the day, and she reluctantly second-guessed the irritation she’d awoken with toward her host. They’d slept until close to noon that morning, and Vince had gotten up ahead of her only to launch into an extensive routine of push-ups and sit-ups. Though he wasn’t noisy about it, he’d executed the workout on the floor just in front of the bunk bed. Presuming this display to be some attempt at showing off, Angie had feigned sleep to avoid acknowledging it at all. Now, she suspected she’d been too quick to dismiss its merit.

  “Have you seen a lot of fires?” she asked with growing interest.

  “If you mean structure fires, I’ve only been on a handful of those calls.” He spoke in an absent tone, his focus on the road. “Most of the time we just end up being the first on scene for car wrecks—usually drunk drivers or people who don’t know how to drive in the rain. We got to use the Jaws of Life once, but it doesn’t normally come to that.”

  “So what got you into it? Hero complex, or thirst for adrenaline?”

  “Wanting to be more like my dad, I guess.” Vince’s thoughtful candor gave her pause. “He was a fire chief when I was growing up, and we didn’t share a lot of interests. I think it disappointed him that I wanted to stay at home and be on the computer instead of fixing cars or going out hunting and fishing with him.” And then, as though he wasn’t at ease with remaining serious for long, another smirk played across his face. “That, and I’ve always had a thing for fire. Most of the guys I volunteer with are borderline pyromaniacs.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.” Angie laughed. “At least it’s a positive way to direct the fascination.”

  “Sometimes to stop a fire, we’d get to start one.” His voice gained a measure of liveliness. “The National Forest near here had problems with wildfires a couple of years ago, and we got to go out there and control-burn a perimeter to keep it from spreading.”

  “Firefighters who stop fires by starting fires. Ironic,” she said, amused. While they’d only managed a few minutes of genuine conversation, Angie was pleasantly surprised at how much more comfortable she’d become with Vince. For whatever reason, he seemed less contrived and more like the affable friend she’d enjoyed talking to over the phone and online. With any luck, her first impression of him as a standoffish jerk was nothing but a fluke.

  Something about the abundant vegetation rushing past them began to strike Angie as unusual, and she tapped a finger against her window to call Vince’s attention. “What are all of those vines covering everything?”

  She wasn’t exaggerating. The plants she referred to carpeted the ditches and crept upward to envelop tree trunks and telephone poles alike in a sheath of dense, rounded leaves. They adhered to rock formations and arched over abandoned farm equipment, reminding her of enormous hedge sculptures.

  Vince glanced out her window and back several times before the confused expression on his face was lifted. “Oh, that’s just Kudzu. It grows everywhere. I think it’s some kind of weed.”

  “So that’s what it looks like,” Angie said, sounding more enthralled than she’d intended. “I guess it depends on your definition of “weed.” It’s actually native to Japan. It was brought over here to help control soil erosion, but it got out of hand. I think it’s in the legume family.”

  “That’s…interesting,” Vince said in a less than convincing tone. “I didn’t know you had a thing for plants. We can swing by the botanical gardens later if you want,” he offered, though he didn’t expend any enthusiasm on the idea.

  She laughed, somewhat embarrassed at her spontaneous fact regurgitation. “I just read about it somewhere. Sorry. I’m not actually all about botany, I just tend to store useless trivia.” She had also read somewhere that Alabama alone produced half of the peanut crop for the United States. Though, she wasn’t about to earn herself any more geek points by throwing that in.

  They lapsed into an uneasy silence for a time, which Angie accepted as deserved on her part.

  So much for being more comfortable with each other.

  Vince soon turned onto highway 20 west toward Birmingham, leaving the sprawling countryside behind. At some point, he began to fiddle with the radio. Angie didn’t pay the background music much mind until a song came on that she knew. Even then, she was only half aware of it as she stared out her window. The rolling greenery of the Appalachian foothills held her fascination. Thick, shaded forest flanked the interstate, remaining unbroken for miles and giving the impression of massive gaps in civilization. She wasn’t at all cognizant that she’d been reciting song lyrics aloud until Vince’s voice drew her out of her haze.

  “You know this song?”

  Angie blinked, collecting her thoughts. She turned toward him, noting the astonishment in his face. “Um…yeah?”

  “A girl like you—you listen to rap?”

  Angie’s bewilderment was overcome by a resurgence of irritation. “What, do I not fit the goodie-goodie mold if I happen to know a few songs?”

  At that, he was silent. She took it as confirmation.

  Angie forced herself to finish out the song at a more brazen and audible level, though she had to stare out her window all the while to maintain her nerve. It wasn’t the first time her self-consciousness had been trumped by her determination to prove a point.

  “For the record, that was the only song of his that I like.” she said, evenly. “And that’s mostly because I found the music video hilarious.”

  “You’re full of surprises.” Vince chuckled, casting her a sidelong glance.

  “Only because you seem to be full of assumptions.” Angie immediately regretted her bluntness. She reviewed her choice of words in her head, and then reasoned that it was for the best. Keeping him at arm’s length was the goal, she reminded herself. She must have guaranteed her success by this point.

  Vince drummed the pads of his thumbs against the steering wheel for several seconds, as if keeping beat to some tune in his head. “Touché,” he said finally, with an air of respect. “Alright. No more assumptions.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  After meeting up with Grady and his cousin Steven in an expansive theater lobby, the group stood off from the ticket counter attempting to reach an agreement. Angie earned herself some measure of approval by expressing no interest in any of the romantic comedies. The others seemed to be leaning toward an action movie involving dragons.

  “You’d probably like that one—the computer graphics were great.” She singled out Vince with a nod. “But, I just saw it last week.”

  Grady held up a hand, offering Angie an amicable smile. “Hey, I’ll go with anything you feel like.” A former classmate of Vince’s, Grady displayed a laid-back demeanor that contrasted somewhat with his professional choice of attire. Like Vince he was average in height, but his build was broad-shouldered and solid. His dark hair was frosted at the tips and sculpted into pristine peaks. A rich complexion and warm brown eyes suggested a Mediterranean heritage.

  “Way to be decisive, G,” Vince jabbed.

  Steven spoke up for the first time, shoveling his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m cool with whatever.” Though he stood almost a head taller than Grady, he carried himself with a slight slouch that seemed to reflect a more timid personality. Pallid, lanky, and crowned with shaggy, golden-blonde hair, the only features
he shared with his cousin were his eyes.

  “There’s one I’d be more than happy to see again,” Angie said, pointing to the poster on the far wall advertising for Lilo & Stitch.

  “A cartoon?” Vince groaned. “Seriously?”

  “Trust me—it was funny,” she said, insistent. “Give it a chance.”

  “Yeah, that one looked alright.” Grady agreed more quickly than Angie had expected. He looked to Steven, who concurred with a quick nod. “And there you have it. We made a decision.” Grady spoke with a hint of satisfaction.

  At that, Vince’s protests were cut short. Motioning for the others to follow, he stepped up to the ticket counter. When Angie filed in to buy her own, he waved her off. “You’re still my guest,” he said, as though she were trying to usurp a sacred local custom.

  “Well where I come from, when the guy pays it makes it a date,” she said, allowing annoyance to her tone.

  “Here, it’s called good manners.” Vince countered. “Besides, what kind of crappy date would I be taking someone on if I brought Grady along for it?”

  “Hey!” Grady complained from behind them, overplaying a wounded expression. “I happen to think I’d make a first class…third wheel.”

  Angie stepped out of the line, waiting as the rest of the group bought their tickets and then migrated over to the arcade to kill time until their theater opened. Grady and Vince gravitated to a cooperative game involving a large screen and a set of plastic handguns. A handful of quarters later, the duo were engrossed in shooting at an endless parade of virtual assailants. Angie watched for a time before shuffling to one side where Steven stood by, monitoring the scores.

  “Have you ever played this before?”

  Steven shook his head.

  “Me neither,” she confided. “If there’s time left after they’re done, I’ll play you.”

  “Sure.” Steven looked slightly amazed at the suggestion. “You a gamer?”

  Angie shrugged. “Nintendo mostly. I’m not a huge fan of first-person shooters, but I’ve played a few. I prefer games with a storyline.”

  “This game has a story!” Grady made the declaration without taking his eyes off the screen. His replica gun emitted a clicking sound every time he pulled the trigger.

  Angie laughed. “I mean an actual plot—beyond shooting every bad guy that pops up from behind a shipping crate.”

  “Picky, picky.” Grady cracked a grin and then grunted as his avatar took too much damage and his side of the screen began a countdown. He fed the device quarters until it allowed him back into the action.

  Vince, in the mean time, had never seemed to break or even divide his concentration from the game. He’d gained a substantial point lead, which continued to grow as they completed the level objectives. By the time they’d reached a stopping point, it was clear he’d won.

  “You really get into it, don’t you?” Angie said, as Vince turned the plastic weapon over to her.

  Vince smirked but Grady chimed in before he could answer.

  “He’s a machine. Back in high school, he used to play through a new game in two days.” Grady’s tone was one of reverence, giving the impression he found this feat to be somehow legendary. “He could go the whole weekend without eating or sleeping.”

  Angie was vaguely horrified. “That -can’t- be healthy.”

  Vince appeared more embarrassed than proud of himself. “It’s an ADHD thing. Once I get fixated on something I’m doing, I don’t really notice time passing.”

  “Your Mom didn’t check on you or remind you to take a break?”

  Vince rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “If she did, I didn’t notice.”

  Angie decided not to probe any further, as Steven had already begun adding quarters to start a new game. She focused on her side of the screen and hoped she’d be able to keep up.

  The game lasted five minutes before she conceded defeat. She was satisfied to have held her own for a while, at least. By then their theater had opened, and the group filed in. Angie found a seat between Grady and Vince.

  “Hey, do you want some popcorn or something?” Grady asked her as Steven arrived, arms loaded down with drinks he then handed to each of them.

  “Oh yeah, I brought food,” Vince said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  He had stopped at a gas station on their way in and picked up snacks, which he’d smuggled into the theater via the many pockets of his cargo pants. As he retrieved the items, Angie collected the inventory into her lap, beginning to wonder at her host’s nutritional status. Two packages of gummy worms, a pouch of Doritos, three bags of miniature cookies, and a chocolate bar for each of them. The candy bars, however, had been forgotten in his pocket long enough to have liquefied within their sealed wrapping.

  Angie held up one of the chocolate bars and demonstrated its condition by squeezing the packaging.

  “Okay, so that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had,” Vince said.

  Grady gave the candy bar a pained expression as he selected one of the bags of cookies. “What a waste.”

  “It’s not wasted. It’s just…more challenging,” Angie said. To support her argument, she gingerly pulled open one end of the candy bar and borrowed the straw from her soda to spear into the middle of the gooey mess.

  “That would be awesome if it actually worked,” Grady said with a low chuckle.

  Angie put the straw to her lips to test her theory. The dark liquid was thick, but not to the point of collapsing the straw. To her surprise, it climbed up the tube with relative ease until she tasted chocolate.

  “Wow.” Steven’s voice came from the other side of Grady, where he’d leaned forward to watch.

  “That is probably the single coolest thing I’ve seen in like a month.” Grady sounded genuinely impressed.

  “And what does that say about your life, G?” Vince heckled from the other side of her. Despite the satire, he seemed just as entertained as the other two.

  As silly as it was, Angie couldn’t help but smile in triumph.

  The movie was a complete success as far as Angie was concerned. She ceased monitoring the reactions of her three companions halfway through, satisfied they were all enjoying it as much as she was. As they left the theater, the boys encouraged her to choose their next location. A bookstore nearby caught her attention, and she was relieved when her suggestion was met without skepticism.

  In a short period of time the group had settled into a natural cohesiveness, the likes of which she’d rarely experienced even among friends she’d known for years. Grady had a dynamic, sociable way about him that kept a light banter going between them all, while seeming to act as a catalyst for Vince’s sharp wit. Steven contributed a pleasant, calming presence, flavored by infrequent but thoughtful commentary. Despite being the only source of estrogen among them, Angie found herself at ease.

  Inside the bookstore, she browsed the bestseller rack before combing through the magazine aisles. It took her several minutes to realize her three cohorts were following behind her like lost ducklings. Amused, she shooed them off, suggesting they meet up again once they’d all found something to read.

  It was dark by this time and the store wasn’t busy. Still, Angie decided they ought to stay out of the way of the more legitimate customers. They regrouped near the back of the store, where Angie claimed a set of cushy chairs. Grady dropped into the chair beside her, toting a computer hardware guide. Vince followed close behind with a game design manual and perched himself on the chair arms between them.

  “Not exactly light reading, guys,” Angie teased, cracking open a local Birmingham magazine that boasted of the city’s renowned restaurants, fine arts, and vibrant night life. Considering most of the Alabama-related images in her mental Rolodex were in black and white and revolved around the civil rights movement, she hoped to update her outlook on the city.

  “Hey, I have certifications to study for if I’m ever going to get decent pay,” Grady said.

  “I’m pretty sure t
here’s some kind of law against reading for fun while you’re in college,” Vince added, plaintively.

  Steven headed their way with a thick graphic novel in hand. Angie recognized the book at a distance. “I just read that one when I was in New York,” she said as he neared. “It was good, especially if you like that character. It answers a lot of background questions.” Steven’s pale brows lofted, and he turned the book over to scan it before settling cross-legged onto the floor near his cousin.

  Grady marveled aside to Vince in a dramatic stage whisper, “Dude, where did you find this girl? She’s smart, she games, she reads comics, and she gets our sense of humor. I don’t think she’s real.”

  “I ordered her off the internet,” Vince whispered back, deadpan.

  Angie felt herself shrink at their approval. Unsure how to take the public compliment, she lifted the magazine to hide her face. With her concerns over her awkward first day fading into obscurity, she was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

  Chapter 22

  After giving his cousin a ride home, Grady had made his way back to Vince’s house to meet up with the other two. It was nearing midnight by the time they all arrived, and the lengthy night drive had made Angie drowsy. Her host and his friend seemed to think the night was still young, and so she rallied a second wind.

  Grady went through Vince’s media shelves and pulled out several amateur films they’d both participated in. The first was a James Bond spoof. The second short movie was a modern reenactment of the assassination of Julius Caesar. In it, Grady played Caesar and Vince assumed the role of Brutus. The film ended with Grady delivering a long-winded speech as Caesar while standing at the end of a dock. After which, he was hurled into the lake by a mob led by Vince.

  Angie glanced over her shoulder at Vince, recalling several villainous characters he’d created for the story-writing community. “Why am I not surprised you played the bad guy?”

  Vince grinned. “I like to stick with what I’m good at.”

  “It was supposed to be for a history project,” Grady said.“But somehow, we didn’t get points deducted for being historically inaccurate on pretty much everything.”