Rock and a Hard Place

by Angie Stanton

  “What name did she use?” Peter raised his water bottle for a drink.

  “Jill Munroe.”

  Peter froze, the bottle inches from his mouth. “What did you say?” He lowered the bottle and turned to the computer screen.

  “Jill Munroe, why? Does that mean something?”

  Peter stared at the name on the screen. “Yeah, it does. She told me once that her mom loved Charlie’s Angels back in the seventies, and almost named her Jill after the character, Jill Munroe, but her dad refused.” He grinned at Garrett and smacked him on the back. “You found her man, that’s her.” Peter turned to leave the hotel suite.

  “Where you going?” Garrett asked.

  “Pebble Creek, Georgia. Where else?”

  “Hold up, Romeo. You forgot something.”

  “What?” Peter scanned the room, as he patted down his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and phone.

  “A concert. Tonight. At Soldier Field.”

  “Aw crap.”

  “You have about a hundred fans at the meet and greet. All those Libby wanna bees.” Garrett smirked, but Peter could see Garrett’s relief that they found her.

  The concert felt pointless now. He knew deep in his soul the girl, Jill Munroe, from Pebble Creek could only be Libby. There was no doubt in his mind. “Fine.” He stood, hands on his hips, unsure what to do now that he had to wait until tomorrow.

  “You might want to ask Roger to get you a flight out of here,” Garrett prompted.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “And you might want to call ahead.”

  “What for? I want to surprise her.”

  “Just in case, man. What if it isn’t her.”

  “It’s her.” With that Peter left to find Roger, but couldn’t resist a whoop and a punch of his fist in the air.

  Chapter 23

  The next day, after flying into Atlanta, Peter and Roger drove to the tiny town of Pebble Creek. He wanted to take the trip alone, but his mother wouldn’t allow it. He’d made a lot of head way in winning more freedom from his family, but this time Mom wouldn’t budge. ‘You are not traipsing across the country by yourself. Either take Roger, or wait to see her at Red Rocks.’

  So Roger it was.

  He decided to call ahead after all, but couldn’t find a listing for Jill Munroe or Libby Sawyer. Even so, he would not be deterred. They drove down the quiet streets of the small town. Libby was here, he felt it.

  “Are you going to keep driving up and down the main drag or are we going to stop and ask some one?” Roger asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought this would be easier, and that I’d just bump into her.”

  “We could call the local radio station and tell them Peter Jamieson’s here. That should bring her out, but I don’t think this town even has a radio station. How about the police station? They ought to know everyone in town.”

  “No, Libby ran away. She doesn’t need the police in her business.” Peter pushed a hand through his hair and thought about how to find her. Knock door to door?

  “In most small towns you go to the barbershop or the local coffee shop if you want to know something,” Roger said.

  “I hardly think she’s a regular at the barbershop. Let’s try for a coffee shop.” He drove slowly and searched for a restaurant. A couple blocks farther, where the road split, sat a quaint little restaurant, Fork in the Road. He and Roger shared a grin. This felt right.

  Peter pulled into a parking spot. “Do you mind waiting here? I’d like to do this myself.”

  “No problem, go ahead.” Roger leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, tired from their early morning flight.

  Peter stepped out of the car and approached the front door of the restaurant. He combed his fingers through his hair to tidy it and smoothed down his t-shirt. What if she was inside having lunch? She could be. A large wooden fork served as the handle for the front door. He took a deep breath, exhaled and entered.

  Inside, the café looked like a throw back to the fifties. A long counter and stools faced the kitchen. Booths with faded red seats occupied each wall. Curtains decorated with tiny cherries covered the windows.

  The place was busy for such a small town. A heavy set older woman bustled by, her arms loaded down with plates. “Grab a seat anywhere you want.”

  Peter wandered to the counter and sat on a stool. In front of him nested a napkin dispenser, ketchup and mustard bottles and several menus in plastic sleeves. He gazed around the room, unsure where to begin. Should he start asking strangers if they knew Libby? Or Jill Munroe?

  The waitress returned. “Do you know what you want, hon?” Her name tag read Penny.

  “Uh, no.” He stuttered. “Actually I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “I’ll be right with you.” Penny grabbed five plates from the kitchen counter and stacked them up her arm. With the other hand she grabbed a coffee pot and disappeared.

  Peter spun on his stool and watched her deliver the food to a family on the other side of the restaurant and then top off coffees. At the opposite end of the counter, he noticed an older gentleman reading a newspaper. Penny rushed past.

  “Hold on one more sec,” she said. “Jerrold, you ready for a refill?” The man with the newspaper held up his cup.

  “You’re running around like a chicken with her head cut off today,” the man commented.

  “Short handed for the next few days.” Penny returned the pot to the burner and approached Peter. “Alright, what’ll you have?”

  His hands began to sweat. Peter couldn’t believe how nervous he was. Talking to strangers never rattled him, but the thought of seeing Libby again made him jumpy. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. I think she lives here, but I don’t know where.”

  The woman tidied the counter as he spoke.

  “Her name is Jill Munroe.” He held his breath.

  The woman stopped and looked at him. “You’re looking for Jill?” Her eyes changed. Was she annoyed he wasn’t placing an order? Penny exchanged looks with the man at the end of the counter. He arched an eyebrow.

  “Do you know her?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

  “Sure, I know Jill,” she hesitated. “But she’s off today.”

  “Yes!” Peter slapped his hands on the counter. He struck gold. She worked here.

  Penny watched him, wide eyed. “How do you know Jill?”

  “I met her in Wisconsin, almost a year ago. We used to date.”

  Penny nodded slowly, and glanced again at the man with the newspaper.

  “Can you tell me where she lives?” Peter looked from one to the other and back again. The man nodded his head at Penny.

  “Sure thing. She lives at the Twilight Motel on the west edge of town. Works in the office most afternoons . . .”

  “Thank you so much!” He popped off his stool and headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go see her. I can’t thank you enough.” He waved at Penny as he left, ran to the car and hopped in.

  “Roger she’s here. I mean not here like at the restaurant, but she works here. Except she’s off today. She lives at the motel and works there too.” Peter started the car and sped off.

  He drove west to the Twilight Motel, a cheap roadside dive not fit for fleas. Roger gave him a cockeyed glance as Peter pulled into the gravel drive and parked in front of a blinking office sign. He couldn’t imagine Libby actually lived here.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Roger asked.

  “Are you kidding me?” Peter left the rental car and entered the run down office. The trill of a bell sounded as the door opened. Fortified with determination, Peter crossed the cracked linoleum to the front counter.

  “Afternoon. Y’all looking for a room?” A middle aged brassy blond asked. Her sickeningly sweet perfume overpowered him.

  Peter almost took a step back when he saw her Tammy Faye Baker face complete with crusty mascara, and overdrawn lips coated in pink gloss.

  “No, thank you. Actual
ly I’m looking for someone.”

  “Are you now? I’ve been looking for someone too.” She leaned forward and revealed her ample bosom squeezed into a tiny tank top more appropriate for a teenager than a fifty-year-old woman.

  Peter nearly laughed. He might need Roger’s help after all. Heck, Roger might enjoy her. He offered his best mannered smile. “Actually, it’s a friend of mine, who I believe lives here. Her name is Jill.”

  “Oh.” The desk clerk stood up. “She stays in number six, since the phone doesn’t work. Says she has no one to call, but if I had a young man as sweet as you on my tail, I’d sit by the phone all day waiting.” She batted her oversized lashes; he wanted to run.

  He eyed the door, his heart longing to be in Room Six, but the flirty old woman prattled on.

  “DarLynn. That’s my daughter-in-law, lets Jill stay here. She babysits the boys and watches the office while DarLynn’s at night school. She’s gonna be a hair stylist. Don’t know why she needs to do that when she’s got the Twilight to run. This is my son Jimmy’s place,” she whispered as if it were a big secret. “If it’s good enough for him it should be good enough for her. Of course, Jimmy ain’t happy about her schoolin’, but he’s still got two more months to serve at county.”

  Peter didn’t know how to stop her incessant talking.

  “Ya know, it wasn’t really his fault. If Gus Hatley wouldn’t have been hittin’ on DarLynn at the tractor pull last year, Jimmy wouldn’t have borrowed his new truck and drove it into Mud Lake. Now that sure was a mess; big misunderstanding all around.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Peter interrupted for fear the woman would never stop. “I think I’ll go down to number six and say hello.”

  “Of course. Look at me jabberin’ away while you’re eager to see your friend. Oh and she’s a pretty one too.”

  Peter moved towards the door. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Libby’s face when she saw him.

  “Oh, she ain’t there.”

  “She’s not?” He nearly croaked in disbelief.

  “Nope. She and DarLynn left in Jimmy’s old Chevy early this morning; somethin’ about a prize in Colorado. I think she won the lottery, but I don’t know why she had to go way cross the country to turn in her ticket.”

  What was she talking about now? “Is she going to Red Rocks by chance?”

  “That’s right, now how’d you know that with her not having a phone?”

  “Just a good guess.”

  “Well, I’ve got a secret about her that I bet you’ll never guess.” She leaned forward again. Peter focused on a velvet painting of kittens on the wall, instead of her showy cleavage, but he needed to hear what she had to say.

  “Her name isn’t really Jill,” she whispered, then paused for effect.

  “No way?” Peter said, matching her quiet tone.

  “It’s Livvy.” She’s been hiding out, but now with the lottery thing, she has to use her real name again.”

  He fought back a smile. “I never would have guessed that.” He needed to prevent her from starting another long diatribe. At this rate Roger would come looking for him. “Well, I should be heading out.” He walked to the door.

  “Wanna see her room?”

  Peter slowly turned back to her, a huge smile on his face. “I’d like that very much.” He would see where she lived, see her stuff and smell her presence.

  She snatched up a key and led him outside. “By the way, my name’s Beatrice, but my friends call me Bea.” She stood a little too close for Peter’s comfort.

  He held his breath to avoid inhaling her odious perfume. He gave a pained look at Roger and waved him over. The large man hesitated, but joined them.

  “Bea, I’d like you to meet a very good friend of mine. This is Roger.”

  “Why what a pleasure, two good lookin’ men in one day. You must be the older brother.” She held out her hand for Roger to kiss. He nearly choked, but shook her hand with claw length painted finger nails.

  “Bea is going to show us Jill’s room. Jill’s not here right now. She’s on her way to Colorado,” Peter recited to Roger.

  His friend nodded, understanding lit his eyes.

  “She goin to turn in her lottery ticket,” Bea chimed in.

  Roger turned a confused look on Peter.

  “That’s right.” Peter grinned.

  They followed Bea past a handful of rooms and paused at room six where she inserted the key. Bea turned to them. “You won’t tattle on me will you?” Her eyes focused on Roger. “I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with DarLynn. She’d never let me watch the place again and I love meeting new people.”

  “Not a word,” Roger promised. “It’ll be our little secret.” He placed one hand on the door frame and leaned close to Bea. Peter’s pulse quickened as he pushed the door open and stepped into Libby’s room.

  So this is where she’s been. He walked through the small room. He ran his fingers over the faded bedspread. On the dresser sat a stack of books. School books. Calculus, World History, Psychology. Pride filled his heart. Libby stayed in school. He knew she was smart, but to live in this crummy motel, waitress and still go to school amazed him.

  Roger blocked the doorway while Bea performed her best moves. Also on the dresser lay a sweat shirt. He picked it up and her familiar scent hit him. He held the sweat shirt close and wondered if she’d miss it. He opened the top drawer and found her underwear along with some envelopes that appeared to be legal documents. He didn’t feel comfortable touching them, so he closed the drawer and sat on the bed.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  A framed picture on the nightstand faced the bed. He recognized a young, carefree Libby her arms draped over a younger girl who could only be her little sister, Sarah. Her parents stood on each side of them. They were a beautiful family. The weight of all Libby had been through struck him full force. God, he wished she was here right now, but they’d be together again soon.

  Reluctantly he put the photo back in place. He opened the top drawer and found pens, highlighters and pencils on top of a drawing pad. He eased it out of the drawer and opened the cover and found a pencil drawing of a little boy. He turned the pages to discover dozens of drawings of everything from wildlife, the Twilight Motel and little boys. But what gave him pause the most were the drawings of himself. There were only a couple and they were at the front of the pad. Had she moved on? Didn’t she think about him anymore? That was stupid thinking. She was coming to Red Rocks and the drawings didn’t reveal what her feelings were. He slid it back into place.

  Peter closed the drawer and saw Bea pressed up against Roger. “So then I went to Nashville to sing for this big record producer. He said he liked my style, said I had real panache, whatever that is.” Bea fluttered her peacock lashes again.

  He didn’t have the heart to watch Roger suffer any longer. An assault from Bea had to be worse than Roger’s tour of duty in Desert Storm.

  “Roger,” Peter interrupted. “I just realized we’re going to miss our flight if we don’t head out.” He efficiently pushed the two apart. “Bea, it’s been a pleasure and I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

  He bee-lined to the car and started the engine. Roger literally leapt over the hood, slid in and slammed his door. Bea flitted after Roger, her words still flying. Peter backed up, sped away and pretended not to notice.

  Roger glared at Peter. “You owe me big time for that.”

  Peter howled in laughter and honked the horn as he cruised out of town, one step closer to Libby.

  Chapter 24

  Two days later, ominous clouds thundered over the Red Rocks Amphitheater. “We are not canceling this concert,” Peter said. “I don’t care if there are torrential rains, earthquakes or tsunamis; this show is happening.” He glared at the Red Rocks stage manager, his posse of security, and the management team. Peter’s family stood in formation behind him, a silent army of supporters.

  “As I said before, it’s not safe.�
�� The stage manager held his ground. “With an outdoor amphitheater there are added dangers when inclement weather strikes.

  “And I’ll say it again, we are not canceling.” Peter said, hands on his hips, a formidable opponent.

  The stage manager looked to Peter’s parents for help, but received none. “You don’t understand. We have guidelines, policies and insurance issues at stake here. Do you want to take responsibility for that?”

  “You bet I do. What do you need?” Peter didn’t flinch. “Where do I sign? Do you want a check?” Too much rested on this concert. Libby was coming and he would not let her be sent away.

  “That’s not how it works and I’m sure your father can attest to that. We’re talking about the safety of ten thousand people in and around the amphitheater.”

  His father interrupted. “Let’s take a look at the radar once more.” He gestured toward the computer screen nearby. “At this point, most of the fans are already in the stands or on the grounds. Canceling the concert isn’t going to help. There must be some sort of emergency procedure when unexpected storms occur during a concert.”

  “Yes, of course there is. However, the goal is not to need them. Moving this many people can result in panic and injury. Plus there is an added threat with a storm system of this magnitude.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late to send everyone home,” his mother said. “In fact, it would be irresponsible. According to radar this is a fast moving system. Let’s get the fans to safety here on the grounds, we will wait the storm out, and then all enjoy a the concert. No one goes home disappointed.”

  “Well, I don’t know. The stage will be soaked, and the seats in the stands will be wet. There will be no dry place to sit,” the stage manager argued.

  “The stage is simple, we can squeegee it off in minutes,” Garrett said.

  “Our fans never sit during a concert anyway,” Adam added. “In fact, if you went out there and asked them if they want the concert canceled, or to take cover and come out when the storm passes, I guarantee they’ll stay.”