“That was really wild. But I caught on and that is why I told you to shoot one of them too. I knew you were far too levelheaded to actually shoot them,” said Solange
“You did? Well, okay, but next time something like that happens, just let me handle it without a cheering squad,” said Michael.
“You got it,” said both Amanda and Solange.
Solange looked at Michael, “Thanks for saving me again. You are a real good guy to have around when there is trouble.”
“I’m actually a pretty good guy to have around all the time,” replied Michael.
“Well… yes, you are,” replied Solange.
Peter was rolling his eyes, “Hey, it’s two o’clock in the morning and we did not get any sleep,”
“I’m tired too, but I don’t want to spend another second in this town,” replied Thibodeaux.
“You can sleep while we are driving. If I see a safe place, I will pull over and sleep for a while myself, but not until we are a couple hundred miles away from here,” said Michael.
Everyone got into the Travco, Michael stopped by the office where the manager insisted on refunding their money so Michael just returned the keys and got back into the motorhome and drove away with Solange sitting shotgun. Amanda, Peter, and Thibodeaux pulled the beds down in the back and went back to sleep.
When Amanda woke up about 7 a.m. and looked around. She had heard Michael and Solange talking all night—just murmurs—she could not really make out what they were saying, but it was either sleep or snoop so she slept. They were on Interstate 40 and Michael was pulling off the road to gas up at a truck stop. Michael pulled up to the gas pump to fill up, paid using one of his prepaid Visa cards, and walked inside to ask if it was okay to park in back.
Michael drove the RV to the back of the truck stop, out of sight of the highway. He then pulled the curtains shut around the driving area and walked back to talk to Amanda, who was awake, and Thibodeaux and Peter who were still dozing. “Solange and I need to sleep now. We are in New Mexico so we don’t need to worry about those Texas cops changing their minds and following us. I’m sorry but you need to stay inside while we sleep. Don’t go into the truck stop to buy anything. I think there are some DVD’s you can watch if you get bored and there is food in the fridge. We’ll be back on the road by noon and I will stop and we can get something hot to eat.”
Solange walked to the back of the motorhome and lay down on the back bed and Michael pulled down the bunk over the driver’s seat and climbed in. Michael and Solange went to sleep immediately; they looked exhausted after driving all night. Amanda watched them carefully. They had obviously been talking all night and when they walked back into the main part of the RV, somehow they seemed more comfortable with each other. Amanda had not heard much of their conversation, but she did remember bits and pieces of Michael telling Solange that Armand was not the right guy for her and she was too young to commit to anyone. Solange had disagreed but not anywhere near as strongly as Amanda thought she would have disagreed.
Thibodeaux and Peter woke up briefly, looked around the RV and decided that they would go back to sleep.
It was cool and dark in the motorhome. The air conditioners were running off the generator and they had a working toilet, but Amanda thought that actually having to live in one of these contraptions would be really hard.
Amanda sat up and pulled the blinds open so she could have some light. When she looked out the window, she could see that they were surrounded by a lot of large trucks. A cattle carrier parked a bit away was giving off a whiff of a very unpleasant odor. She was definitely not going to try to talk her mother into buying one of these RV’s when she was back home in Greenwich. Why would anyone want to camp in the back of a truck stop in the desert?
There was food in the RV and a stove, but Amanda knew if she tried to cook something, Solange would wake up and insist on helping her so Amanda put a box of cereal, some milk and three bowls on the dinette table. Thibodeaux got up, looked at the cereal and then walked over to the counter and made coffee in the stainless steel percolator. Amanda had never seen a percolator before—every coffee maker she had seen had a glass carafe or was a cappuccino machine.
But the coffee from the percolator was wonderful. Amanda poured herself a cup.
Thibodeaux looked at her and said, “Hey, we have coffee so we’ll be okay.”
But then it was back to catatonic reading for Amanda while Thibodeaux and Peter watched an old Western DVD that Cyrus had left in the RV.
At noon, Michael’s phone alarm went off and he got up and leaving Solange to sleep in the back, he pulled the RV over to the dump station, threw away all the trash inside the RV and emptied the RV’s waste. Amanda was peeping through the curtains and she looked in horror and amazement at Michael pulling a hose out of the side of the RV and sticking it into a hole in the ground. So that was what Cyrus meant when he talked about the ins and outs of the RV. Michael was emptying the sewage from the trailer. Gross!
Soon they were back on Interstate 40. Thibodeaux had moved up front to sit with Michael since Solange was still sleeping. Peter was trying to get a connection so he could search the web and Amanda read her book.
Amanda peered out the window. They were passing Tucumcari. Off in the distance she could see a small mountain, but the land was desolate. It looked like someone had taken a blow torch and burned off any vegetation, but when she looked carefully, she could see patches of green peaking through. It was March and even this desolate part of the planet was trying to have Spring.
They were planning to drive to Albuquerque and stop for the night on the other side of the city. Interstate 40 was certainly boring. Hardly any Starbucks signs but lots for McDonald’s and Taco Bell.
Peter was sporadically surfing the net when he could get a signal. As they drove through Albuquerque he announced, “Hey, I found a really tacky looking motel in Grants, New Mexico.”
“Great that is just what we need, another night in a roach motel,” replied Amanda.
“Hey, girl. You are going to have lots of stories to tell your Greenwich friends when this is all over,” said Thibodeaux as he walked into the back of the RV to talk to them.
“Like you’ve spent time at those kinds of places. I know about you and your school. It’s prep city and almost all the kids who go to your school get into the Ivy League, that is unless they want to go to Stanford” said Amanda.
“Right, we can go to the same college, how about that?” replied Thibodeaux.
“I would love to have my only problem be where I go to college and if any of my friends will be in the same school. I would really like to worry about that,” said Amanda.
“Well, you are both going to have a really good college essay,” said Solange who was awake now and walking into the main area of the RV from her bed in the back. “Your story is good enough to get you both into Harvard.”
“Well, I don’t want to go to Harvard. I need a place where I can work on my design and my rapping,” said Thibodeaux.
“You know, they might even like that,” said Amanda. “When I read the Harvard literature, it said the school wants diversity and a guy who cracked a group of terrorists but also raps and designs clothes is certainly diverse.”
“Remember what you said about being my model,” said Thibodeaux.
“Sure, when we get through this, I would love to model hip-hop clothes. That is just my style,” said Amanda.
“No it’s not, but that’s what will make the clothes stand out. People will look and see this pretty Connecticut girl wearing my designs, playing against type, and it will catch their eye,” said Thibodeaux.
“Hey boy, playing against type? You studying marketing?” asked Solange.
“I told you I am in the design business,” said Thibodeaux.
“Yep, you did, you did, and you are, you are,” said Solange as she poured herself a warm cup of coffee and put it in the small microwave to heat. “But right now, I need to talk to Michael
about stopping for food.”
Amanda thought to herself that ever since they were trapped in the basement in that theater after the bombing, her whole existence had revolved around when and where she was going to eat and sleep—things she always took for granted when she was home. Then the only time she thought about what she was going to eat is when she was arguing with her mother and brother about which restaurant they should go to that night. Plus, now she also had to spend a lot of time figuring out how to not get beat up or shot. These new problems were keeping her plenty busy.
Chapter IV
The rest of the day passed quietly. Around 5:30 p.m. Michael was finally too tired to drive anymore so they pulled into the motel in Grants, New Mexico that Peter had found surfing the internet. The motel looked a lot like the one in Vernon, Texas except the pool was smaller, but that did not matter. They certainly were not going to risk swimming again.
The rooms were a bit cleaner and a little newer than the night before. There was a small restaurant across the street and Michael walked over and bought food.
This motel may have been boring and plain, but it worked. Even the TV worked and this time there was no porn, so Amanda could relax and watch some of her shows.
The rest of the evening was uneventful and boring; everyone went to bed and had been asleep for a couple of hours when Solange woke up screaming. Michael, Thibodeaux, and Peter rushed into the room Solange shared with Amanda to see that the lights were on and Solange was standing by the side of the bed pointing at a squat little gray-brown lizard which was sitting on the foot of her bed.
“What’s that?” asked Michael.
“It’s a horny toad,” said Amanda who was very sleepy and just wanted this to be over with so with a “Do I have to do everything” sigh, she picked up the ugly horny toad, opened the door to the room and put him down on the walkway outside and closed and locked the door.
“Can we go back to sleep now?” asked Amanda as she walked to the sink, turned on the water and washed her hands. She quickly wiped them with a towel and climbed back in bed. “They’re not dangerous. There are a lot of them on my grandfather’s ranch. They eat ants, not people.”
Everyone just looked at her.
“Well, that’s nice to know,” said Thibodeaux.
Peter started to walk back to the other room saying, “Amanda touched it so it has to be harmless.”
“If you say so,” replied Thibodeaux.
Michael stopped, looked back in the room at Solange who was still standing by the side of her bed with a “I can’t believe what just happened” look on her face. Amanda, however, was back in bed with the sheet over her head.
“Whatever!” Michael turned, left the room leaving the door between the rooms open and everyone went back to sleep.
They were up early the next day. Everyone had finally had a chance to catch their breath after the events of their first night on the road and the second night’s horny toad scare. They were well on their way to Los Angeles.
By 11 a.m., they were driving past Holbrook, Arizona when the next disaster occurred. The Arizona Highway Patrol pulled them over.
Michael called back into the back. “Open all the curtains and look out like you are curious about what they are doing. This may be nothing. We shouldn’t assume they know who we are.”
Amanda quickly opened the curtains as Michael pulled the Travco to the side of the road. Two patrolmen approached the sides of the Travco and told Michael to get out and show his license and registration.
“Excuse me, officer. Did I do something wrong?” asked Michael as he got out of the motorhome.
“You were swerving. Have you been drinking?” the officer was peering into the RV. “Everyone out. I can smell the odor of marijuana and need to check the RV for illegal drugs.”
Amanda knew very well that the Michael had not been swerving and that no one was smoking marijuana and she was scared out of her mind. Were these guys really Highway Patrol? Would they find the guns? But Amanda, Thibodeaux, Solange, and Peter got out of the Travco and stood by the side of the road next to one of the officers who had pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at them as they exited the motorhome.
The officers looked surprised to see four kids wearing preppy clothes, but one of them entered the RV anyway. Amanda could hear him opening the bathroom door and looking into all the cabinets. Then he came out and said to Michael, “What’s your business in Arizona?”
His partner, the one with the gun pointed at them, looked a little worried, “Hey man. Why don’t we let these people go on their way.”
“But I’m not through investigating,” said the patrolman who had searched the Travco.
Amanda could hear the one with the gun whispering, “This could go bad really quickly. If we arrest them, and the press got wind of it…who knows who they are and who they know? Just look at them, the way they are dressed. This could be a setup. They could be filming us right now with a hidden camera.”
The first Patrolman took a long look at them, taking in their appearance, their flawless English and mainstream haircuts and said, “Okay. Okay. Go on your way but be careful to keep your vehicle under control from now on. ”
As they walked away, Amanda could hear the first Patrolman saying to his partner, “With all the bad press we are getting, we can’t do our job. Who knows what kind of illegal activity those people are into?”
The second Highway Patrolman looked at the group that was still standing on the side of the road and said, “Those kids? Come on, let’s go. We’ll arrest someone else, keep our numbers up for the sergeant.”
The two Highway Patrolmen got into their vehicle and drove off.
Amanda was in shock as she got back into the motorhome.
Michael climbed back in and started up the engine and said, “From now on we need to keep the curtains open and Amanda and Peter need to sit by the windows, so if any cops pass us, they will see white kids, not illegal aliens.”
“Is that what that was about?” asked Peter.
“What else could it be?” replied Michael. “I was not swerving or smoking dope, they just wanted an excuse to look inside the RV. They probably saw me and thought I was too young and the wrong color to be driving an RV and cooked up an excuse to stop us figuring we were either hauling illegal aliens or this was a rolling meth lab.”
“A meth lab?” asked Amanda.
“That’s one of those things you don’t ever need to know about,” said Michael.
“I hate those cops,” said Amanda making a mental note to Google meth lab. The best way to get her to learn about a subject had always been to tell her that she did not need to know about it.
Amanda and Peter opened the curtains on all the windows and Amanda put her hair up in two pony tails so she would look even younger and for the rest of the day, as long as they were in Arizona, Amanda and Peter waved every time the Highway Patrol drove past their RV.
By now, all anyone could think about is how quickly they could get out of Arizona with its Highway Patrol searching for their quota of illegal aliens and drugs, and make it into California where hopefully they would not be harassed.
So they drove all day, stopping only for gas and to pick up food until they crossed the border into California and stopped in Needles for the night.
Needles had one thing to recommend it; the Colorado River passed right through town. But as Amanda kept reminding herself, they were not tourists so the river did not matter.
The motel in Needles looked pretty much like the other two motels. They were staying in places where people without credit cards could check in without being hassled. This was a different America, one Amanda had never seen before—none of the cars were new and no one wore clothes that Amanda had ever seen in a store. But the other people staying in the motels were very nice to them. There wasn’t another incident of drunks trying to use fence posts to get into their rooms, or horny toads trying to sleep in their beds, but then, there was no more swimming
or any kind of fun. It was just travel, eat and sleep—travel, eat and sleep.
That night something good finally happened. Michael received an email from his father telling him that because the terrorists had tried to intimidate them when they were in New Jersey and again in New Orleans, the judge had severed the cases and charges against the terrorists that they were able to identify and that trial was moved forward to the last week of March. Now they only had to stay in hiding for ten more days and then Michael’s Dad, Mr. Trudeau, would tell the Federal Marshals where they were so they could come pick them up and bring them back to New York. Amanda was relieved. Ten more days and they would be in New York staying at a secure location and guarded by Federal Marshals until the trial was over. Nothing could happen to them while the Marshals were guarding them because then everyone would know. And when it was over, they could all go back home. Amanda would miss Solange when she returned to New Orleans, and she could tell that Michael would really miss her. But maybe when life returned to normal, Solange would visit her Auntie Tina in New York and maybe Solange and Armand would be admitted to Juilliard and be in New York next fall.
The next morning, Amanda woke up and looked out the window of the motel, but all she could see were parked cars—no drunks, no Highway Patrol, no demented horny toads. They were in California now. Michael had told her that they would not arrive at the house in Los Angeles until a little after noon. Amanda could not wait. She wanted more than anything to be normal—to be able to go into a restaurant, to go shopping. And from what Miss Gaby had told them, they would blend right into the University of Southern California neighborhood which was still a little rough but in the process of being gentrified.
The drive from Needles to Los Angeles was monotonous, but a good monotonous. Amanda kept the curtains to the windows open and she did look out but she wasn’t as worried so she did not feel like she had to make a fool of herself by waving at every cop car she saw.
The Big Apple Posse Page 34
