by Meg Benjamin
Chapter Six
Monica sat on a boulder at the side of the road and contemplated ways of dealing with the disaster looming before her. The rental agency had told her to call the automobile club. The dispatcher at the automobile club had said they’d send a tow truck from Salt Box, which was apparently nearby. She vaguely remembered Paul mentioning the place. Now she had to call Glenn Donovan, which would probably not be the highlight of an already lowlight kind of day.
Maybe Glenn could send another car for them. She had no idea how close they were to Elkhorn Run, but surely there was somebody available to ferry them the rest of the way. Of course she might not be included in that them. It would be just like Glenn to leave her in Salt Box to take care of the car repairs and deal with the rental agency.
On the other hand, given that she’d be free of Ronnie, she wouldn’t be too crestfallen if she ended up spending a few days by herself in Salt Box, Colorado. Assuming they had a hotel with hot water and no bedbugs, of course.
She punched in Glenn’s number and shifted on her rock, trying to keep her butt from falling asleep.
“McKellar,” he snapped. “Where the hell are you?”
She pushed her bangs back from her eyes. “We had an accident on the highway, went off the road and ended up halfway into a culvert at the side. Everybody’s okay, but the car isn’t drivable. I’ve contacted the rental place and the automobile club, but you’ll probably need to send another car to get Ronnie the rest of the way to the resort.”
There was a long pause on Glenn’s end. “Wait. What?”
Sighing, she repeated herself. “Apparently, we’re near a town called Salt Box. That’s where they’re taking the car anyway. I can’t find it on the rental car map, but you can have somebody check Google or a GPS. Can you send someone soon?”
“No, I can’t send someone soon,” Glenn snapped. “I can’t send anybody at all, at least not for a while. The equipment van is in the shop. The only other vehicle I’ve got is the car Sid rented for me. And he’s using it to ferry the crew around. How long before your car’s fixed?”
Monica fought down a brief flare of panic. “I don’t know, Glenn. The tow truck hasn’t even gotten here yet. There are two flat tires and a banged up fender that I can see. No telling what else might be wrong.”
“What about the rental agency? Could they send you something else?”
Monica sighed. “I didn’t ask. I thought I’d better call you first.”
“See if they can send a car. I can’t do anything from here.”
Monica forced herself to unclench her fist. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But you still may need to send a car. I mean you’ll need Ronnie and the three bachelors to get the show started.”
“Not really. In fact, it might be easier not to have her around right now. We’re still setting up the stunts and figuring out what to shoot at the resort. Nothing for her to do here yet.”
Nothing for her to do here either. Clearly, Glenn didn’t want Ronnie getting in the way at the resort. Park her in Salt Box where Monica could babysit her until the crew was ready. Monica gritted her teeth. “So basically, you want me to stay put in Salt Box, Colorado, until either the car’s repaired, the rental agency sends a replacement, or you get around to sending a car to pick us up?”
“Yeah, that’s about it.”
He didn’t sound as angry as she’d expected him to sound. He must have thought it was a good idea not to have Ronnie around until absolutely necessary. Not that she blamed him.
“I want to hear from you once you get there,” Glenn went on. “Oh, and tell Faisal to shoot some candids. We can always use this as part of the opening. Did he get any shots of the wreck?”
Monica’s jaws began to ache from teeth gritting. “No, Glenn, we were too busy trying not to end up in a ditch to do any filming.”
“Too bad. Tell him to get some shots of the car in the culvert or maybe in the garage. Maybe both. Do some interviews with Ronnie and the guys about what they were thinking when you crashed. Their life flashing before their eyes, that kind of thing.”
She closed her eyes, counting to ten. “It wasn’t that kind of crash, Glenn. We just slid across the road.”
He sighed. “Well, do the best you can. Try to make it sound good. Darryl can probably do something with it.”
“I’ll call you,” Monica snapped as Glenn hung up. She blew out a frustrated breath, staring at the phone in her hand.
Faisal appeared at her side, dragging his equipment bag. “Is he sending somebody to pick us up?”
She shook her head. “He says he’s got no cars he can spare. We’re supposed to wait until this one gets fixed or until the rental agency can send us another one.”
“So we spend the night in Salt Lick?”
“Yeah, apparently. And it’s Salt Box.”
“Whatever. Did you tell him the camera’s broken?”
Monica blinked. “Broken? No. I mean, I didn’t know that. Can you fix it?”
Faisal narrowed his eyes. “Sure, if I had tools and replacement parts. I’m guessing Salt Lick isn’t going to have a camera shop available.”
“Probably not.” Monica sighed again. “There go the candids.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll be crushed.” He nodded toward Ronnie and two of her three suitors standing on the other side of the road. Billy Joe kept cranking his neck while Brendan rubbed his arm. Neither was looking at Ronnie, whose lower lip was trembling ominously.
“Well, shit,” Monica muttered. “I’ll talk to them.”
She checked the highway before jogging across. There had been a few passing cars. A couple of drivers had even stopped to ask if they could help. She wondered briefly how many people would have done that in L.A.
“Okay,” she called as she approached them, “I just talked to Glenn. We’ll go into Salt Box with the car and see how bad the damage is. We may need to stay overnight.”
Billy Joe’s lip curled. “Overnight in a town called Salt Box? Jesus. We’ll probably end up on somebody’s couch.”
“I don’t know where we’ll stay. We can check it out when we get there. With any luck we’ll be on our way tomorrow.” She gave them all a smile that was probably much too bright for the situation.
“Donovan isn’t sending another car?”
She hadn’t seen Paul until he spoke. He leaned against a large pine tree slightly uphill from them. She shook her head. “No. Glenn said to just take it easy for a while. I’ll give the car rental agency a call once we get to Salt Box. Maybe they can send us a replacement.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Salt Box is only a few miles from Elkhorn Run. It’s where the overflow from the resort ends up.”
“So they should have hotel rooms?”
He nodded again. “Assuming they’re not filled up. This is the high season for summer tourists right now.”
“There’s the tow truck,” Brendan said as a large yellow truck rolled to a stop beside the SUV. Monica headed back across the highway.
The driver was already out of the truck, shaking his head at the crumpled front fender. He pulled off his cap, unleashing a shock of stiff blond hair as he rubbed a hand across his nose. He nodded at Monica. “You the driver?”
“Yes, but I don’t own the car. It’s a rental. My name is Monica McKellar. The rental agency told me to phone the auto club, and they called you.”
The driver nodded. “So what happened here? Somebody run you off the road?”
She shrugged. “There was a deer.”
He walked slowly around the back end of the SUV, pursing his lips. “Can’t tell much about the damage ’til I get it back to the shop. Looks like the axle’s okay, though.”
“It’s your garage?” She managed to keep the surprise out of her voice, but just barely. The driver didn’t look old enough to own a garage.
“Yes ma’am, it is. Al Monteith, at your service.” He gave her hand a desultory shake, then settled his cap back on hi
s head. “You got any other car around to take you to town?”
“No sir. It’s just us.” Monica glanced at the darkening woods. Not having a car hadn’t seemed like much of a problem up until now.
He shrugged. “I’ll call somebody to pick you up, then. There’s not enough room in the truck for all six of you.” He pulled his cell from his pocket, punching in a number.
“How far are we from Salt Box?” Monica had a sudden vision of the six of them packed in the back of somebody’s rusted-out pickup.
“Couple of miles.” Monteith turned away, plastering a hand to his ear as he spoke into his cell. “Clark? I’ve got some people here who need a ride into town. Their car’s been in a wreck.” He nodded, listening to something on the other end. “Right. I don’t know, I’ll ask.” He turned back to Monica. “You going to need a place to stay?”
She nodded, trying not to chew her lip.
“Yeah. There’s six of them. You got anything? Okay, they can work it out when they get to town.” He flipped his cell closed. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. Praeger House only has a couple empty rooms, but they may be able to find you some more someplace else if you need them. It’s the summer high season right now.”
Behind her, she heard Billy Joe snort impatiently. Once again, she gritted her teeth. “Thanks. That’s very kind of you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Praeger House. After you see the bill. ’Scuse me. I need to get this thing pulled out of the ditch before I can take it into town.” Monteith headed back for his truck.
“What’s up?” Paul stepped beside her, elevating a dark eyebrow.
“We’re being picked up by somebody named Clark who will take us somewhere called the Praeger House that may or may not have enough rooms to hold us.” She grimaced. “How much do you know about the town of Salt Box?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s the town below the ski resort. They’ve got hotels and restaurants that handle the resort overflow. Plus, like I said, it’s also a normal town.”
“What do you mean?”
“Resorts cater to visitors. Normal towns cater to the people who live in the area, just like any other town. Towns like Salt Box make a lot of money off the resort, but when push comes to shove, they’ve got other things going on.”
“Such as?”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “Whatever usually goes on in a town. Around here, there’s a lot of cattle ranching, some sheep and goats. Hay fields. Some mining and oil, although we’re a little far north for that. Salt Box has grocery stores, feed stores, tack stores, and insurance agencies. They should be able to accommodate six people with credit cards.”
“Knock on wood.” Monica glanced around the road, but there was no wood within knocking distance unless you counted the sprawling pine forest on the mountainside.
“He’s not going to take our suitcases, is he? I need my suitcase. It’s got all my stuff.” Ronnie stood at Monica’s elbow, her eyes wide with distress as she watched Monteith maneuver his tow truck.
Once again, Monica gritted her teeth. She’d been off Ronnie duty for all of ten minutes. It had been like a two-week vacation. “We’re all going to the same place, Ronnie. We can get our suitcases from the garage when we get to Salt Box.”
“But where will we stay? I don’t want to sleep on a couch. I hate sleeping on couches. They hurt my back.” Ronnie’s lower lip trembled again, while her eyes went baby seal.
“We won’t sleep on a couch,” Monica soothed, trying not to cross her fingers behind her back as she did. “We’re going to a hotel in Salt Box. They have a couple of rooms, and Mr. Monteith said they’d help us get more.”
“But what if there’s not enough?”
Monica closed her eyes for a moment. “There will be. One way or another, you will sleep in a bed tonight, Ronnie, I promise.” Just please don’t let it be with me.
Ronnie looked unconvinced, but at least her lip wasn’t trembling anymore.
Beside her, Billy Joe folded his arms across his chest, his lips sliding into an automatic sneer. “So what about us? You giving us any guarantees?”
“I will do my best to get rooms for everyone,” Monica ground out. “I don’t know what’s available in Salt Box. I don’t know how big the town is. We’ll have to wait until we get there to find out.”
Al Monteith made one last maneuver with his truck. Slowly the SUV emerged from the culvert, partially suspended from the tow truck’s cable. He leaned out his open window. “Okay. I’m gonna take this back into town. Clark should be here in a couple more minutes.”
“What about our luggage?” Monica called.
“You can get it from the garage. Or Praeger House can send somebody to pick it up. They’ll know where it is.” He gunned the motor and took off back down the highway.
She watched him disappear around a bend in the road.
“What if he’s not really a mechanic,” Ronnie whispered. “What if he stole the car? It’s got all my stuff in it.”
Monica counted to ten, slowly. “He had a tow truck,” she said in a level voice. “It had the name of the garage on the side. The automobile club called him to come and get us.”
“But what if he lied?” Ronnie asked plaintively.
Monica felt as if something snapped in her chest, probably her patience, given the hot jolt of irritation that washed over her. “He didn’t lie. Why would he? The car’s been in a wreck, it’s not something he can sell down the road. Jesus, he’s a mechanic. He’s taking the SUV into town to fix it. That’s all there is to it!”
Ronnie stared at her wide-eyed, one hand pressed against her lips. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she caught her breath in a sob. “I’m s-s-s-sorry,” she wailed.
Brendan put his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. “There, there, you just cry it out, honey. It’s all gonna be okay.” Above Ronnie’s head, his eyes were like laser beams turning Monica to ash.
Monica felt as if she’d just kicked Lassie.
“Car’s coming.” Paul came to stand beside her, nodding toward the highway.
“Probably our ride to Salt Box.” She slipped her purse strap over her arm and headed toward the roadside, ready to flag down whoever it was. Even if it wasn’t their ride, she was ready to beg anybody passing by to take them into town. Or maybe to take Ronnie to town and leave her here by the side of the road to contemplate her sins in private.
The car that came around the curve toward them wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. She would have assumed it was a stress-induced mirage, except that she could hear the engine sound. It approached them with a well-polished, powerful hum, long, black and sleek. If they hadn’t been standing by the side of the road in northwestern Colorado, she might have thought it was the Batmobile.
Paul whistled softly. “Holy shit.”
“What is it?”
“Lincoln Town Car. The limousine version. Not the newest, but sweet.”
As it drifted nearer, Monica made out the letters painted in gold on the side: “Praeger House, Salt Box, Colorado.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of them. The man who opened the driver’s side door looked like he belonged in a different movie. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt, along with thick-soled hiking boots. His brown hair was almost as long as Paul’s, and his dark beard stubble looked like what Billy Joe was trying to achieve and failing. Grizzly Adams with a limo.
“You the folks who need a ride?” he asked, his voice a rumbling basso profundo.
“Yes, sir,” Monica squeaked. She seemed to be having a “yes, sir” kind of day. She stepped forward quickly. “I’m Monica McKellar, with Fairstein Productions. We’re supposed to be at Elkhorn Run, but we had a problem with a deer.”
The mountain man nodded once, his face expressionless. “Clark Denham. I’m here to get you into town. Supposed to be a couple of rooms at the hotel, but it’s the busy season—lots of hikers and fishermen around. If the hotel can’t handle all of you, you can head over to t
he Black Rose B&B.”
“Great.” Monica licked her lips. Clark Denham clearly wasn’t part of customer relations. Probably the maintenance man who got roped into chauffeur duty. She turned back to the others. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll sort everything out when we get to town.”
Billy Joe narrowed his eyes. “Is Fairstein paying?”
She blew out a quick breath. “Yes, of course. Come on. We need to get checked in so that I can call the car rental agency and let Glenn know where we are.”
Ronnie gave her a mutinous look, her lower lip jutting outward in a pout. “What about my stuff?”
“It’s at the garage. We’ll pick it up when we get there.”
“How do we know where his garage is?” She dropped her voice slightly. “How do we know there even is a garage?”
Monica’s hands balled into fists. It occurred to her that she’d never screamed at one of the contestants before. Now she could scream at four of them in one fell swoop.
“You could ask,” Brendan said, reproachfully. “It wouldn’t hurt anything.” His hand rested on Ronnie’s shoulder, probably the only thing that was preventing Ronnie from stalking off down the road.
Well, that and the fact that apparently she really did want her stuff.
You owe them. It’s your job. Monica took a deep cleansing breath and turned back to the driver. “Is Mr. Monteith’s garage anywhere nearby? We do need to pick up our suitcases from the car.”
Denham shrugged. “Pretty much everything in Salt Box is nearby. Al’s garage is three or four blocks from Praeger House.”
“Okay, thanks.” Monica moved to open the car door, but Denham beat her to it, sweeping the door open and bowing slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure whether he was mocking her, but she wasn’t inclined to argue. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked up at Ronnie. “Miss?”
For a moment, Monica was afraid Ronnie might bolt. Her eyes widened as she stared at Denham. Then she apparently decided he wasn’t a serial killer after all. “It’s Ronnie,” she said, giving him one of her angel grins. “Ronnie Valero, actually.”
