“Yeah, probably.” Vince flit his gaze toward her when the road allowed. “I think we both meant it.” He seemed to struggle with his words before his expression shifted to one of concern. “…Are you feeling okay?”
“Not really,” Angie answered, fumbling to open the window on her side. Sucking in a deep breath of cool night air, she found a sliver of relief. She felt Vince’s hand on her shoulder.
“Was it dinner? Bad donuts?” He sounded alarmed.
Angie closed her eyes and fought the ripple of nausea that crept its way up her torso and into her throat. “Motion sickness,” she replied, bracing her arms and hanging her head out into the wind. Somewhere amid her misery she sensed the car slow and felt Vince’s hand on her back. She knew he was talking to her, but for several minutes she couldn’t afford to divide her concentration. The steady hand between her shoulder blades was nearly as comforting as the fresh air. After a time, the balance tipped in her favor and the donuts stayed down.
Vince didn’t remove his hand until he’d pulled into his driveway and parked. Before Angie could collect herself, he’d walked around to her door and helped her out. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated, as she dimly recalled him doing numerous times.
Thankful to be on solid ground, Angie leaned against the car to steady herself. “It’s okay—it’s not so bad anymore.” She formed a weak smile.
“I won’t take those roads again,” Vince said, guiding her by the arm once she’d pushed off from the car. He walked her into the middle of the half-acre front lawn and urged her to sit. Their presence did nothing to interrupt the constant, pitching drone of Cicadas in the nearby trees. The high vibrato of crickets and lower, distant bellow of frogs completed the nighttime cacophony.
Angie eased down and then flopped onto her back. The cushioning grass cooled her skin, while the stars overhead greeted her with unusual brilliance. “Wow,” she breathed, pleased to have such a worthy distraction from her waning discomfort. “Not much light pollution out here, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the few perks.” Vince chuckled, stretching out beside her. “My dad bought me a telescope when I was a kid. I wish I could remember more about it than just how to find the planets.”
Contemplating, Angie stretched out a hand in front of her and pointed up at the first constellation she could easily identify. “That ‘W’ shape is Queen Cassiopeia.” She traced the lines from point to point with her fingertip. “It’s supposed to be her on her throne, but it leaves a lot to the imagination.”
“The vain queen.” Vince nodded when she glanced his way. “I remember something about that from Greek mythology.”
“That’s right.” Angie nodded. With a degree of satisfaction, she motioned toward a kite-shaped constellation. “There, that one’s yours. Draco.” She followed along its winding tail with a sweeping finger.
“The Dragon.” A smile came through in his voice. “So, where’s the north star?”
“See Ursa Major…the Big Dipper?” Angie pointed to the star grouping, skimming upward as she drew along the handle.
“Yeah?”
“That’s the easiest marker,” she said. “Look to the cup part at the top corner, and then off in a straight line—you’ll run into the handle of The Little Dipper. Its layout is reversed from the Big Dipper. See it?” She turned her head aside to follow his gaze as he tracked with her instructions.
Vince shifted closer until their shoulders touched, bringing his angle of sight in better alignment with hers. “Yeah, I see it,” he said, lips quirking upward in recognition.
“It’s right there,” Angie said as she outlined the invisible connections. “The last one at the end of the handle.”
Vince looked upward intently, nodding once before turning his face toward her. “So that’s the one I follow, if I want to find you again?”
Angie gave a dismissive smirk to conceal her sudden trepidation. “I believe buying a plane ticket would be the easiest way.” He couldn’t like me that much. Not after I almost got sick all over his car. “But don’t feel obligated. There isn’t that much to see in Minnesota.”
Vince made a thoughtful sound, but said nothing more.
Angie stared up at the glimmering starscape overhead until her thoughts settled and her eyes drifted closed. She didn’t know how long she’d been dozing on the lawn before she felt a light, pleasant sensation moving along her skin. She opened her eyes to find Vince propped up on one elbow, smoothing his fingertips along her arm.
He smiled, lingering concern in his expression. “Feeling better?”
“Much.” Angie fused her answer with a reassuring smile. She considered retracting her arm from his reach, but found herself curious over the soothing effect his touch was having on her. Instead, she pretended not to notice. “I might sleep out here tonight.” She closed her eyes again.
“I suppose you can.” Vince chuckled, his fingers brushed the inside of her elbow. “But I don’t think our luck is going to keep holding out against the mosquitoes.”
“I guess you’re right.” Angie sighed, though she was in no hurry to retreat to the house.
If he were gutsy enough, this wouldn’t be a bad time to kiss me.
Where did that thought come from? She had little time to examine it before she sensed Vince shift his weight.
Warm breath grazed Angie’s cheek just before she felt the tentative touch of lips to her own. Despite her passing thought, she hadn’t expected this. Instead of her mind switching off in surprise, she was acutely aware of Vince. His kiss was gentle and timorous — almost novice. Though she knew sharing it could hurt him, in that moment, she feared she might cause him worse pain by rejecting the show of affection. Tentative, she returned the kiss.
Her acceptance ignited a mutual intensity she wasn’t prepared for. Vince pressed closer, with a doting responsiveness that enveloped her in an inexplicable warmth. What she had meant to end quickly became a searching, drawn-out exchange of emotion. Vince surprised her again by being the one to break their connection.
Angie opened her eyes to find him staring down at her with a tense look of worry.
“Are you alright?” he whispered.
“I…think so.” She forced herself to focus, unsure of what had startled him.
Without warning, Vince lowered his head and laid his ear against her chest. “Your heart—”
Only then did Angie realize her heart rate was so rapid, it felt as though the muscle was rebounding against her ribcage. Baffled by her own physical reaction, she sat up abruptly. “I’m fine. It just does that sometimes,” she told him, neglecting to mention that the last time she could remember her heart beating this fast involved a double espresso and a strenuous Aikido practice.
What does that mean? Five minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought of him as anything but a friend.
“Did I...scare you?” Vince eased himself back, brow creased with concern.
“No.” Angie shook her head, mind buzzing with apprehension. She couldn’t be sure if he’d gotten caught up in the stargazing, or if he’d truly begun to care about her. If anything scared her, it was the idea that she now had the power to hurt him.
Vince studied her face for a long moment, though she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Has anyone ever kissed you like that before?” he asked, point blank.
“Yes,” Angie answered without thinking. “Scott. The guy I stayed with in New York.” She didn’t expect the spark of disappointment she saw in his eyes as she spoke.
Vince eased back a little further from her. “Do you…love him?”
Angie looked down at her hands, weighing the question. “In a way.” She glanced up in time to see Vince drop his chin and look away. “It depends on your definition. I love all of my friends.” As she began to elaborate, she realized how evasive she sounded. “I’m not in-love with him, if that’s what you mean.”
Vince looked back at her again, his face more unreadable than it had been all day.
“I didn’t
go on this trip looking for a boyfriend,” she added. “Look, I like you. There’s a lot to like—” she said, hoping it wasn’t too late to spare his feelings. “—but that can’t happen again. I don’t want to screw up our friendship. Besides, we live on opposite sides of the country.”
“Yeah, I know it wouldn’t make sense,” Vince admitted with a hint of frustration. He regarded her for a long moment before his mouth softened into a rueful smile. “Why couldn’t you have been the girl next door?”
It occurred to Angie that she’d been staring at him. She looked down, emitting a small laugh. “That would have been too easy.” Satisfied they had come to an understanding, she took a steadying breath and got to her feet. “You know, you still owe me that radio play.”
Vince picked himself up. “I guess I do.”
When she turned and made her way back to the house, he followed without another word.
Chapter 24
Angie gripped the edge of the passenger seat, resisting the urge to comment on Vince’s driving technique. In any other city she’d been in, the term “rush hour” was an oxymoron. Yet, the last time she’d glanced at his speedometer, it was sitting near 90 mph.
To Vince’s credit, he was an adept driver and only seemed to be keeping up with the rest of the early morning traffic as they entered the outskirts of Birmingham. He was faithful in using his turn signal, and courteous in making room for anyone merging. That put him in the minority.
“Do people always drive like this?” she asked, after someone on a motorcycle took to the center line and raced past her window.
“Pretty much.” Vince’s answer was nonchalant, though he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “It’s nice for getting in on time, but when there’s a wreck, it’s really bad. I’ve sat at a dead stop for hours some days.”
Angie forced herself to look more relaxed than she felt. She was confident he knew what he was doing, but she didn’t have any reason to trust the rest of the commuters, who all seemed under the delusion that they were driving for NASCAR.
She stole a quick glance at Vince’s intent profile again, remembering their kiss the night before. Thus far, he was acting like it hadn’t happened. While he hadn’t reverted back to complete aloofness, they’d hardly spoken since his alarm went off that morning. Part of her was relieved, but another part of her that thought perhaps she should bring it up. But talking about it could be interpreted as encouraging — and she couldn’t risk doing that to him.
If he was keeping to himself, then he likely acknowledged that the whole thing had been a mistake. And while there was something dimly painful about that, she knew it was for the best. She just hoped that the remainder of her stay wouldn’t be awkward for either of them.
Angie minded her surroundings as the car’s transmission began to protest a steep mountain incline. Eighteen-wheelers fell into a sluggish line in the far right lane, unable to keep up under the strain. The climb lasted for well over a mile before they reached the crest and began a coasting descent.
The view into the valley was breathtaking in the morning light. Thick patches of forest spread out for miles in all directions, intermingled with the urban sprawl. Rather than merely carving out space for itself, the city appeared to have grown up conforming to the lay of the land. Beside the highway, Angie made out rock formations and sheets of earth that had sloughed downward in miniature mudslides. The bold, rust-red coloration of the stones and soil stood out — she was in the heart of the Alabama iron belt.
Vince glanced over and caught her stifling a yawn. “I can fix that.”
“You can fix the fact that I had to get up at five-thirty in the morning?” Angie smirked. She’d never been an early riser, and Vince’s lifestyle of minimal food and sleep was starting to take a toll on her.
“Absolutely,” he said, veering the car down an exit ramp. “The culinary branch of my school has an awesome bakery, and I get a discount. It’s just a few blocks from my office.”
Angie sat up eagerly once they’d pulled into the parking lot of the Cullinard Bakery. The rich scent of coffee, cinnamon, and fresh bread invaded the car before they’d even opened the doors. Her stomach burbled in approval. She heard Vince laugh and looked over to find him watching her, eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.
“I’m going to start feeding you better, I swear.” He got out and walked around the car. By the time she’d unbuckled and fished her handbag off of the floorboard, he’d opened her door for her. She thanked him this time, while reminding herself not to become too partial to the custom.
Ten minutes later, Angie followed Vince into an office tower with a double mocha in one hand, her other arm loaded down with three enormous muffins. She’d polished off a blueberry scone in the car. Vince had insisted on buying her every pastry she’d shown the slightest interest in — apparently in an effort to make up for his sporadic eating patterns. As far as she was concerned, it was working.
The Alabama State government building was an unassuming, four-story concrete structure, poised at the top of one of the steepest foothills overlooking the valley. Angie hung back as she followed Vince inside, unsure of what to expect from his place of employment.
“Are you sure it’s alright for me to be here?” she asked as they approached a small lobby where empty chairs lined the walls.
“Sure,” Vince said, casting her a smile over his shoulder. “I cleared it with my bosses weeks ago. Besides, they have interns come in to observe all the time.” He crossed the lobby to a Plexiglass-enclosed help desk. Behind it sat a squat, ungainly man who appeared to be in his late thirties. His thinning black hair was cut short and professional, well coordinated with a pale blue dress shirt and brown-and-blue striped tie. But Angie barely noticed the ensemble, thanks to the coke bottle glasses that stood out as his most prominent accessory.
“Hey, Owl.” Vince greeted the man. “How was business this weekend?”
Owl gave a slow smile as he looked up from the switchboard. “Oh, not too bad. Got a nice tip from the wedding I told you about. I had a little trouble running things through my laptop, though. You think you could take a look at it for me later?” His articulation was precise, but his deep voice came out monotone. “Oh, hello there.” He nodded once to Angie when he noticed her.
“I’ll see what I can do. Bring it by on break,” Vince said, motioning to Angie then in introduction. “Owl, this is Angeli—the friend from Minnesota I told you about. You mind letting her come and go if she needs to?”
“That’s no problem.” Owl nodded again to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.” Angie smiled, giving the man a small wave. As Vince cut to the right, she followed him through a gray steel door into a maze of hallways and cubicles. Once the door had closed behind them she whispered, “His name is Owl?”
Vince chuckled. “No, it’s Jerry. He’s just capitalizing on his DJ persona. I guess it was his nickname back in the day, and he made the best of it. He’s always had pretty bad vision.” He motioned to his own glasses.
“Ah,” she said, pausing at a hallway intersection to let a woman in a wheelchair go by.
As they rounded the corner, Angie noted a middle-aged man coming down the hall toward them. Tall and dark-skinned, the man approached while sweeping a thin white cane back and forth in front of his feet. His chin lifted as though he were looking upward, though his rounded sunglasses made it impossible to gauge their actual direction of focus. Wearing a faint, perpetual smile, he projected an uncanny confidence. The tip of his cane hovered just off of the floor, giving the walls an occasional tap as he walked.
“Good morning, Mr. Gill,” Vince called out to announce their approach, coming to a halt just ahead of the man’s cane.
“Well, good morning to you!” Gill exclaimed with vigor, stopping to angle himself in Vince’s general direction. “And thank you again for your assistance last week. I was about ready to chunk that printer out the window! That’s assuming the windows here open. Do they o
pen? You know, I’ve never tried—” He rattled on in an easy, conversational tone. His jovial voice carried an edge of Alabama drawl to it, muddled with something that Angie guessed to be East Coast in origin.
“You’re more than welcome.” Vince laughed. “I brought a friend along to shadow me for the day. Mr. Gill, this is Angeli.” He looked to Angie as he spoke, guiding the man’s attention in her direction. He then explained for her benefit, “Mr. Gill is one of our guidance counselors.”
“Angeli. Now there’s a lovely name.” Gill switched his cane to his left hand and extended his right out in offering. “Vincent mentioned you before, I believe. So glad you made it here safe and sound. Has this young man been treating you well?”
Angie handed her coffee off to Vince and grasped Gill’s hand. “Thank you. Yes, sir,” she answered, trying to keep up with his steady stream of chit-chat. The man’s thick fingers flexed around her hand in a prolonged, assessing manner.
“Voice of an angel, and she’s even willing to lie for you. How’d you ever get so lucky?” Gill took on a broad, teasing grin as he turned his face back in Vince’s direction. He released Angie’s hand and stacked it with the other around the handle of his cane.
Vince glanced at Angie before clearing his throat and changing the subject. “How was your birthday, Mr. Gill?”
“Oh, it was fine,” Gill said. “A few of my friends took me to a gentleman’s club.”
Vince’s copper-colored brows lofted in surprise. “…they took a blind man to a gentleman’s club?”
“Yes, that bunch find themselves awfully hilarious at times,” Gill replied. “I got the last laugh, though. I got us thrown out.”
“And…how’d you manage that?”
“I asked the waitress if I could Braille her.” Gill held up a hand and splayed his fingers, grinning wryly. “Her boss was fit to be tied. Evidently, they don’t make exceptions on their ‘no touching’ policy. He came over and I got to arguing with him about how his establishment wasn’t properly accommodating the differently-abled. The next thing I knew, some large fellah had me by the back of my belt and they hauled all of us out the door. I don’t think they quite believed that I’m blind. Ha!” His voice jumped an octave at the last syllable and he rocked forward into an unbridled belly laugh.
Once Upon A Road Trip Page 32
