Boomer's Bucket List

by Sue Pethick

  The pain in her stomach intensified, and she heard a protracted growl. Jennifer looked at the time. No wonder, she thought. She should have eaten hours ago. She walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, wishing she’d bought a sandwich somewhere before checking in; there was no room service at the motel and she hated to leave Boomer on his own. Then again, she thought, glancing back at the bed, it didn’t look like he’d be getting up any time soon. There was probably time for her to go and get some dinner before he needed to be taken for a walk.

  Gathering up her purse and keys, she opened the door and glanced down the hall. There was a light on in Nathan’s room. Should she ask him to join her for dinner? No. He’d said he was going to eat in his room, which meant that he’d probably already gone out and gotten something. Chances were, he was hard at work on the next article for his editor. Preventing him from doing his work wouldn’t make whatever was bothering him go away.

  The Tee-Pee Restaurant and Lizard Lounge was only about a block away—walking distance, really—but she didn’t want to risk getting caught in a downpour on the way back. In spite of its odd name, the place had been given high marks by the motel manager, and Jennifer was too hungry to quibble. After all, wasn’t part of the point of taking Route 66 to find places with names like that? As she got out of the truck and headed toward the front door, she felt the first drops of rain on her face.

  Stepping inside the restaurant was a shock. She’d assumed it would be quiet at that time of night, but the place was almost full. The crowd was pretty noisy, too, split between a multigenerational birthday party that had taken up most of the tables and two groups of rowdy teens who’d commandeered the booths. She was about to go looking for a quieter place to eat, when the hostess appeared. Seeing the look on Jennifer’s face, she pointed toward the entrance to the lounge.

  “Anything on the menu, you can get in there. Probably quieter, too.”

  “Thanks,” Jennifer said. “I’ll do that.”

  She stepped into the darkened room and gave her order at the bar. There was a stage on the right that was not much bigger than her truck, but this being Monday, there was no live music, only Waylon Jennings coming through the PA system singing about Luckenbach, Texas, and “getting back to the basics of love.” As she waited for her Bud Light, Jennifer wondered if she and Nathan were ever going to get to “the basics.” It seemed as if they were always working at cross-purposes to each other. Whenever one of them made a move, the other one seemed to back off.

  The bartender slid her drink across the bar, and she handed him a ten, told him to keep the change, and started searching the room for a table. Her eyes had adjusted to the low light by then, and she hoped to find an empty spot near the back. She’d been in enough bars to know that the drunker a man got, the more likely he was to approach her—and she wasn’t in the mood to socialize. She’d just spotted a nice secluded table across the room, when a man sitting in the corner caught her eye.

  *

  Nathan couldn’t remember how many drinks he’d had since walking into the Tee-Pee Lizard Lounge. Enough that he’d felt compelled to tell the waitress that he wasn’t driving, but not enough yet to stop feeling guilty about agreeing to Julia’s proposal. Having his column restored was the answer to a prayer, but having it at the cost of losing Jennifer Westbrook had made it a devil’s bargain. He’d told himself it would serve her right to be humiliated, that Boomer’s Bucket List was nothing but a cheap ploy to gain market share, and that taking advantage of people, playing on their sympathy, and having them worry themselves sick over a dog’s fate just to prove how good her agency was at manipulating public opinion was disgusting. But what if… ?

  What if Julia was wrong? What if Boomer was really dying, and Nathan had called Jennifer’s private pain into question? He wasn’t infallible; he’d been wrong about things he’d written in his column before; he’d just never considered it a big deal. After all, that’s what retractions were for. So, why now? What was it about this situation that was making him drink himself into oblivion instead of finding the answer to a very simple question. Was Jennifer Westbrook a liar or not?

  He saw someone coming toward him and looked up, squinting at the blurred image of a tall, dark-haired woman with a drink in her hand. He looked down at his glass. Was it time for a refill? He didn’t think so. The last time he’d ordered one, the waitress had seemed pretty reluctant. His mind was so sluggish that the woman was standing next to the table before he realized it was Jennifer.

  Her mouth was pinched in an unattractive expression that had all but eliminated the outline of her full lips. Staring at it made Nathan feel sad. Jennifer had such soft, warm lips; it seemed a shame to bunch them up like that. Was she just going to keep standing there all night, looking at him like that? He curled his lip and blurted a favorite childhood taunt.

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you your face would stay that way if you didn’t stop?”

  The corner of her mouth quirked, but the expression didn’t change. Jennifer motioned toward the chair across from him.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Be my guest,” he said, waving his arm in an expansive gesture that came perilously close to toppling his drink.

  She sat down and set her glass on the table.

  “I thought you had work to do.”

  “I did. I do,” he said. He lifted his glass. “I’m taking a break.”

  Jennifer looked at the half-empty scotch in his hand.

  “I’ve got dinner coming. Mind if I eat it here?”

  “Not at all.” Nathan smiled magnanimously. “Maybe I’ll have something, too.”

  She looked at him sharply. “You haven’t eaten yet? How long have you been in here?”

  He frowned. How long had he been in there? He remembered he’d left the motel just after they checked in, and now it was … Nathan looked at his watch, and the dial swam, something that struck him as incredibly funny for some reason. He started to laugh.

  “You’re drunk,” she said.

  The edge in Jennifer’s voice spoiled the mood. Nathan scowled at her.

  “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Boomer couldn’t be left alone.”

  “He’s been sleeping ever since we got to our room,” she said. “I thought I could risk it.”

  His eyes narrowed. Maybe she’s telling the truth, Nathan thought. Or maybe she just didn’t think I’d be here to catch her.

  “That’s very convenient,” he said.

  Jennifer set her glass down hard enough to slosh beer onto the table.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Nathan’s heart was racing. This was it, he thought. The perfect opportunity. He was tired of dancing around the subject, looking for some way to catch her out, trying to come up with a scheme to get her to tell him the truth so he could give Julia the scoop she wanted and go back to the life he loved and was no longer sure he wanted. Why prevaricate?

  Go ahead. Ask her.

  A plate swooped down between them, and a cheeseburger and fries landed on the table.

  “Cheddar cheese, medium well, hold the mayo,” the waitress said as she set it down. “Ketchup’s at the bar.”

  Jennifer paid the check and cut the burger in half.

  “Here,” she said, shoving it toward him. “Eat this. You’ll feel better.”

  The adrenaline rush that had been fueling his courage vanished, leaving Nathan feeling weak and disoriented. Unable to remember what he was going to say and too addled to argue, he took a bite and started to chew. He’d had no idea he was so hungry. The cheeseburger was delicious.

  Jennifer gave him a wary smile.

  “You looked like you were going to say something.”

  He swallowed. “I was.”

  “I’m glad,” she said. “I think we need to talk.”

  Nathan nodded, reminding himself that he was a journalist, and attempted to regain the impersonal mien he’d used over the years when c
onducting interviews of both the famous and infamous. This wasn’t about his feelings for Jennifer Westbrook, he told himself. He had a job to do, one that he was good at. It wasn’t personal, it was just business. But as he opened his mouth, Jennifer held up a finger to stop him.

  “Hold on a sec.”

  She took the phone from her back pocket and blanched when she saw the number.

  “It’s my mother,” she said. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

  As she hurried away, Nathan felt an odd mixture of frustration and relief.

  CHAPTER 27

  Jennifer’s hands shook as she answered the phone. It had been two years since she’d moved her mother to a full-time care facility. Two years of worry and guilt, of temper tantrums and late-night calls from a woman whose mind had been twisted out of true by the twin demons of depression and dementia. Only in the last few months had the situation begun to improve, and then only because her mother rarely remembered she even had a daughter. Whatever the reason for this call, Jennifer thought, it could not be good.

  “Jenny, is that you?”

  Her mother sounded frightened, breathless, as if she’d been chased to the phone by her own demons.

  “Yes, Mom, it’s me. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Promise me you’re all right, dear. I’ve been so worried.”

  This was the curse of motherhood, Jennifer thought. Even when she couldn’t remember much else about her only child, Ida Westbrook knew she should be worried about her.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I promise.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord. I was afraid … so afraid for you.”

  This concern for her daughter’s welfare was new, and for a moment Jennifer allowed herself to think it might be a hopeful sign, that the medications were finally starting to work. Then she reminded herself that this had happened before with no noticeable improvement. Like an amputee feeling the pain of a phantom limb, her mother was simply responding to a need that no longer existed. “Jenny” had grown up and left home years ago.

  “Everything’s okay,” she said, doing her best to sound reassuring. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “But he’s trying to hurt you. I heard them talking; they all said so. Even Vera.”

  Jennifer frowned. Why would her mother’s private nurse be talking about her?

  “No one’s trying to hurt me, Mom. Boomer and I are on vacation, remember?”

  Before her mother could answer, Jennifer heard Vera’s voice in the background. Poor woman was probably wondering how her charge had gotten hold of the telephone. The sound of her mother’s feeble protests died away as the phone was taken from her, then the authoritative voice of Vera Brown boomed in Jennifer’s ear.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Westbrook. I stepped out for a pee break and when I come back, here she is, calling you on the phone.”

  “Is everything okay, Vera? Mom seems to think I’m in some sort of trouble.”

  “Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Your mother’s just got her knickers in a twist over that story in the newspaper.”

  Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief. As the dementia worsened, her mother was having difficulty separating what was going on in her own life with the things she read about in the news. Considering the state of the world, it wasn’t surprising the woman would feel alarmed about something.

  “Of course, I know you,” Vera continued. “But there’ve been a few tongues wagging around here since that story came out. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what set her off.”

  “I’m sorry, Vera. You lost me. What are we talking about?”

  “Oh, just that silly column in the Trib. Don’t you worry. Anybody who knows you knows it’s not true.”

  Jennifer looked at the phone, wondering if Vera, too, was becoming delusional.

  “’Course, we’ve all been following Boomer’s Bucket List,” the woman added, “so when that fella made it out like you were lying about your dog, well, it just set all our teeth on edge. No doubt, that’s what your mama was calling about.”

  Jennifer’s mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what she’d been told. Someone was trying to hurt her … there’d been a story … a column in the Trib … a reporter who said she was lying… . She shook her head. Why would the Trib be interested in Boomer? She didn’t even know anyone who worked there. Except …

  She took a step backward and peered into the darkened lounge. Nathan was hunkered over the table, munching on the burger she’d given him. Jennifer still had no idea what was going on, but she had a feeling she knew which reporter Vera was talking about, and unless she was mistaken, he knew exactly what was going on.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “Thanks, Vera. I’ll give you a call in the morning to check on Mom.”

  Nathan was polishing off the last of the French fries when Jennifer returned to the table. He looked up and gave her a wan smile.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

  He shook his head. “I can walk.”

  “No, you can’t. You’re drunk and it’s pouring outside. Let’s go.”

  Neither one said a word on the drive back to the motel. Rain pelted the windshield, and the steady beat of the wipers felt like the inexorable ticking of a time bomb. Jennifer kept a death grip on the wheel, trying to keep the rage that was growing inside her from bursting forth. She was still in the dark about most of what was going on, but in the end what it came down to was this: Nathan had lied to her and about her. Why he’d done it didn’t matter.

  She pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. Nathan was staring out the windshield, acting as if nothing was wrong. It made her heart ache to realize how much she cared about him, and how hard it was going to be to rebuild the wall she’d so carefully constructed as protection against this kind of hurt. Then she thought about how hurt Boomer was going to be when the man he adored left him, and Jennifer felt a rush of anger.

  Damn you, Nathan Koslow. How could you?

  “My mother was pretty upset,” she said. “Apparently, a columnist at the Trib accused me of lying. You know anything about that?”

  He hesitated only a second before turning toward her.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “For starters, why are you writing about me?”

  “I got a tip from my editor that Boomer’s story might make an interesting article.”

  Of course, she thought. Of course.

  “I’ll admit I’m surprised,” she said, “but maybe I shouldn’t be. After all, what are the chances we’d keep running into each other on the road? I must have been crazy to think it was just a coincidence.”

  His face reddened. “Okay, first of all, Boomer ran out to me at the speedway, and as I recall you were the one who approached me at the gas station, too, so don’t make it sound as if I made the first move. And when I ran into you at the bridge, you were the one who was all, ‘Boo-hoo, I can’t find anything to do with my dog.’ I was just trying to help you out.”

  “By using me.”

  “Me using you?” Nathan sputtered. “How about the other way around?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He shook his head. “God, you are so good at this. I should have known you’d stonewall once the cat was out of the bag.”

  She stared at him, still completely at sea. First her mother calls, saying she’s in danger, then Vera tells her someone’s been telling tales about her in the newspaper, and now Nathan was saying it was all part of a plan that Jennifer herself had hatched. She felt like she was in a house of mirrors. Had the entire world gone mad?

  “What cat? What bag?” she said. “You are making absolutely no sense right now.”

  Nathan leaned closer. Jennifer could smell the booze on his breath.

  “Why do you think Boomer was chosen as a judge at the dog show? Or that he was given a special tour of that toy factory? I mean, you didn’t reall
y think we could have gotten into that steak house if the owner hadn’t wanted to host the famous Boomer in his restaurant, did you?”

  Jennifer was at a loss for words. The famous Boomer?

  “You’ve lost me. I really don’t know what to say.”

  His look was pitying. “Please don’t pretend you don’t know that you and your dog are all over the Internet. Last time I checked, there were hundreds of pictures of you two on Boomer’s Bucket List. It’s got over a million followers.” He shook his head. “I’ll admit it seemed pretty crass, using your dog’s illness to generate business for Compton/Sellwood, but it looks like it’s worked out for me, too.”

  Suddenly, things that had seemed strange to Jennifer the last week began to make sense: the desk clerk wanting to take their picture at the motel; the boy at the fair; the people at the Round Barn asking if they could take Boomer’s photo. But how could strangers know anything about her and Boomer? How would they even know what she and Boomer looked like? No one knew where they were … unless …

  Stacy!

  Stacy, her biggest fan, the girl who just wanted a few pictures so she could track Jennifer and Boomer while they were on their trip. Had she built the Web site herself, or had Derek Compton just talked her into passing the pictures along to him? Probably the latter, she thought. As much as she liked her admin, the poor girl had neither the ambition nor the talent to create the kind of Web site that would attract hundreds of thousands of followers.

  She looked at Nathan. “So, instead of coming right out and asking me what was going on, you made a public accusation.”

  Nathan glanced down, his face coloring. At least he had the decency to look shamefaced, she thought.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”