by Bill H Myers
I interrupted her with a question. “You have microphones on the beach?”
She shook her head. “No, not microphones. Wireless receivers. They work with the lapel mics each cast member wears. Before we do a beach scene, I have to make sure the receivers are working.
“They are hidden, so they don't show up on camera. The ones on the beach are behind the stairs, near the bottom. When Chance told me there was a problem, I went down to see what it was.
“At the bottom step, I bent over to check the battery in the first one. That’s when he walked up behind me and rubbed against my butt. He said, 'Baby, I'm ready. Let's do this.'
“I told him to leave me alone; I wasn't interested in anything he wanted to do.
“But that didn't stop him. He grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the water. He said getting wet would get me in the mood.
“I didn't want him feeling me up or dragging me to the water, so I started screaming. That didn't seem to bother him. He kept pulling me close, making a smacking sound with his lips, thinking that somehow that would make me want to kiss him. It didn't. It made me want to throw up.
“He kept saying, 'Just relax, you'll like it.' But he was wrong, I wasn't going to relax, and I wasn't going to like it.
“We were near the water's edge when he reached around and grabbed my boob. I screamed as loud as I could.
“I think that's when you showed up.”
She looked at my swollen eye and said, “You really need to put some ice on that. You have some inside?”
Before I could answer, she pushed by me and walked into the house. Without even asking me where it was, she went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a handful of ice. I watched as she wrapped it in a dish towel. It was like she'd done it many times before. She took my hand and led me into the living room. She pointed to the couch and said, “Sit!”
Like a well-trained dog, I sat.
She leaned over and said, “Put this on your eye. It'll keep the swelling down.”
I took the ice pack and carefully put it on the side of my face where I had been hit. It was cold, but I knew it would help.
She was still standing in front of me in the living room, looking around. Thinking about how quickly she had found the kitchen, I said, “I take it you've been here before.”
She nodded. “Yeah, a few months back, some of us on the crew were thinking about renting this place. We met the owner, and he gave us the tour.
“We liked what we saw, but the rent was way more than we could afford, so we passed on it.”
Her explanation sounded reasonable. If she was working next door, renting the place would make sense. But being right on the beach, it would be expensive, probably more than most people could afford.
Since I was bored, and it was nice to have someone to talk to, I pointed to the chair across from me and said, “Tell me more about this job you got fired from.”
She nodded and eased into the chair. She shook her head and said, “I do freelance audio work, setting up sound systems for live radio remotes, church services, and the occasional wedding. In a small town like this, there's not enough to keep me busy, so I'm always looking for more work. When the reality show came to town, I heard they were looking for audio people.
“I sent in my resume and got hired as an audio assistant. It wasn't the top job, but I knew that working on a TV show would look good on my resume. I took the job. But now that I've been fired, my resume is not going to be that impressive.”
She paused, so I asked a question. “This Chance guy got you fired because you wouldn't get naked in a hot tub with him? That can't be legal. You should get an attorney.”
She shook her head. “I can't. If word got around that I sued one of the stars in a TV show, I'd never get hired again. TV producers don't want people who sue.”
I understood what she was saying but didn't think it was right. She shouldn't have lost her job because the son of the money man couldn't have his way with her.
If I had been a little further along in my recovery, I might have visited Chance and given him a few reasons to reconsider. But I couldn't risk getting punched in the head again. Not yet. That'd have to wait.
But maybe I could think of a way I could help this woman and help me at the same time.
I asked, “How much did the job pay?”
“Not much. Two hundred dollars a day on the days we were shooting. Usually three days a week, sometimes less depending on the weather.”
“So you're out of work, right?”
“I already told you. I got fired. Chance said not to come back. He said he cleared it with the producer. So yes, I'm out of work, which means I'll be eating rice and beans and living in my car until I find another job.”
She got up, and it looked like she was getting ready to leave. I didn't want her to go, not yet. Not before I had a chance to make it right.
I got up from the couch and held out my hand. “We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Walker.”
She smiled. “That your first name or last?”
“It's just Walker.”
She smiled again and said, “I'm Taylor.”
I asked her the same thing she had asked me. “Is that your first name or last?”
“It’s just Taylor.”
I nodded. “So, we’re Taylor and Walker. Sounds like a law firm. Or a comedy team.”
She shook her head. “We’re not Taylor and Walker. That sounds like we're together and we're not. Let's just keep it simple. I'm Taylor. You're Walker.”
I liked the way she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. But I had a question.
“Taylor, do you have a car?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it if I don't find another job.”
I had another question. “Are you a good driver?”
She smiled. “I think so. It's been years since I last got a ticket. Why do you ask?”
“I'll tell you in a minute, but first, one more question. Do you watch videos on YouTube?”
She cocked her head and hesitated before she answered. Then she asked, “Why do you care whether I watch videos on YouTube or not? It's really none of your business.”
She was right. I really didn't care whether she watched YouTube videos or not. I only wanted to know if she'd seen just one.
“Did you see the one where the Corvette flew into the motorhome? It happened here in Englewood.”
Her eyes widened; then, in a shaky voice, she said, “Yes, I’ve seen it. Everyone has. Why?”
I pointed to my chest. “I was driving. The motorhome.”
She didn't say anything. She looked like maybe she didn't believe me. Or was about to throw up. I couldn't figure out why.
Finally, she said, “You were driving? And you didn't die? You expect me to believe that?”
I nodded. “It's true. That was my motorhome. I was driving, and I didn't die. But the impact knocked me out.
“They took me to the hospital, and I was in a coma for about a week. When I came to, they said I was lucky. No broken bones. No internal injuries. Just a concussion.
“But they told me it was serious business, especially if I didn't give my brain a chance to heal. They said to go home and follow post-concussion protocol. No TV, no internet, and no driving. They didn't say anything about not getting punched in the face, but that was probably on the list somewhere.
“The motorhome was my home. I lived in it full time. After the accident, I didn't have a home to go back to. It, and everything in it, was destroyed by the Corvette.
“A friend rented this place for me. She said it was peaceful and would help with my recovery. She was probably right, except for the noise from the TV show next door.”
I continued. “I wasn't alone in the motorhome. My cat was with me, and he hasn't been seen since. We've posted lost cat flyers and offered a big reward for his safe return. But so far, no luck. No one has found him.
“That means he's
out there in the wild, trying to make it on his own. Probably scared to death and wanting nothing more than for me to find him.
“I know it's silly to worry so much about a cat, but he's been with me through thick and thin. I’m not going to abandon him. I’m going to find him, no matter how long it takes.
“But I can't go look for him because the doctor said I can't drive. That means I can’t go anywhere on my own. I have to depend on someone else to take me around.
“The woman who rented this place was willing to do that while she was here. But she had to leave town for a few days. Until she gets back, I can't go anywhere.”
Taylor nodded like she understood but didn't say anything.
I continued. “Like I said, I can't go anywhere. Unless I hire a driver. Someone who can drive me around. Maybe three or four days this week.”
I paused to see if she understood what I was getting at. But she said nothing, so I kept talking.
“I need a driver, someone to help me look for my cat and drive me to places I need to go. Since you're out of work, it could be your new job. You have a car and plenty of time on your hands.
“I'll pay you the same you were getting on the show.”
I stopped talking and gave her a chance to think about my offer. I didn't know whether she'd take it or not. She didn't know me from Adam. As far as she knew, I could have been a serial killer.
She didn't answer right away. I expected that. Instead, she looked around the room then back at me. “Is this for real? Or some kind of joke?”
I smiled. “I need a driver. You need a job. I'll pay you to take me around.”
She thought about it then asked, “This is not a sex thing, is it? Because if it is, I'm not interested.”
I shook my head, “No, there's no sex involved or anything like that. I just need someone to drive me around. To take me to places I can't get to on my own.”
She asked another question. “Where would I need to take you?”
Her question gave me hope. Maybe she was considering taking the job. I needed a driver, and she seemed like the perfect candidate.
She was waiting for my answer, so I said, “The scene of the accident. Jacaranda Place. CVS. Verizon. Maybe Walmart. And a few other places. We won't be leaving Sarasota County, and we won't be getting on I-75.”
She nodded but said nothing. She was still considering my offer.
After waiting for what seemed too long, I said, “If you're not interested, I totally understand. I can get someone else.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Taylor had a few more questions about the job I was offering. The first was. “Do you smoke? Because I don't let anyone smoke in my car.”
I smiled. “No, I don't smoke.”
“Good. What about humming or singing? Will you be doing either while I'm driving?”
I shook my head. “No, I won't be humming or singing. I'll sit in the passenger seat and keep my mouth shut unless you ask me a question.”
She nodded again. “What about gas money? Does that come out of the three hundred a day you're going to pay me?”
I laughed. “I thought you said you were making two hundred on the show. Now it's three hundred to be my driver? That's a pretty big raise.”
She nodded. “It is, and if you want me to be your driver, it'll be three hundred dollars a day. There'll be no touching, no smoking, no humming or singing. And you're paying for gas.”
I was starting to like her. She had asked the right questions, set the ground rules and had given herself a raise.
But she still hadn't accepted the job. She was waiting for my answer.
“Okay, three hundred dollars a day and I pay for gas. But you need to be here every morning by nine and be available to drive me around until no later than nine in the evening. Most days will end earlier but not always.
“You can't bring anyone else along. No husbands, no boyfriends, or relatives. No one. It'll be just you and me. And you can't tell anyone that you're driving around the guy whose motorhome was hit by the Vette.”
She started to say something, but I kept talking. “I'll pay for our meals while we're out, and if you need to make personal stops during the day, you can, as long as they don't take too long. On the days you work, I'll pay in cash at the end of each day.
“If, after the first day, you decide to quit, I won't stop you.”
I paused then asked, “So do we have a deal? Will you be my driver?”
She smiled and stuck out her hand. “It's a deal. I'll be here at nine in the morning. I'll even wash my car before I pick you up.”
We exchanged phone numbers and agreed that if either of our plans changed, we'd call and let the other one know.
She left, and I refreshed the ice pack and headed to my bed for a nap. Like the doctor said, I'd tire easy and needed to give my brain a chance to recover.
I figured he wanted me to nap often. So that's what I was doing. Napping whenever I could.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next morning, I got up early, long before Taylor was supposed to show up with her car. I had a long list of places I wanted her to take me, including RV World up in Nokomis.
They were the largest RV dealer around and always had a good selection of used ones on their lot. They would be a good starting point in my search for a new home.
But before I went there or to any other RV dealer, I needed to check with my insurance company to find out how they were going to handle the wreck. The insurance payout could factor into my RV buying decisions. I had plenty of money in the bank but didn't want to spend it to recover from a wreck someone else caused.
I pulled the insurance card out of my wallet and called the number on the back. It was answered after three rings by a computerized voice that said, “If you are calling about obtaining insurance, please press one. If you are calling about making a payment, press two. If you've been in an accident, press three.”
I pressed three and, after a moment, a man answered. His first question was, “Were you in an accident?”
I answered, “Yes, I was.”
“When did it occur?”
“Ten days ago.”
“Were you injured? Do you need medical help?”
“Yes, I was injured. I was knocked out and spent ten days in the hospital. I'm okay now.”
The tone of his voice changed from concern to somewhat more cheerful. “I'm sorry to hear you were in an accident. I'm glad you are okay. Can you tell me who I'm speaking to and your policy number?”
I gave him my name and recited the string of numbers from the front of my insurance card. I could hear him typing the information into his computer as I spoke.
After a moment, he said, “Mr. Walker, I see that you have a Winnebago motorhome insured with us. Is that the vehicle involved in the accident?”
I told him it was and gave him the date of the accident and the location. Again, I could hear him entering information into his computer.
After a pause, he asked, “Do you have the accident report from the police, and if you do, can you tell me the incident number from the top of the first page?”
I had the report, but not in front of me, so I said, “I have it, but you'll have to hold while I go get it.”
The report was still in my bedroom, and I went there to retrieve it. With it in hand, I got back on the phone and recited the string of numbers from the top of the page.
Again, I could hear the agent typing the information into his computer. After a moment, he said, “It looks like your vehicle was totaled in the accident. Where is it now?”
I gave him the name and phone number of the impound lot and mentioned they were charging a hundred dollars a day storage fee.
He had one last question. “Mr. Walker, tell me about the accident. What happened?”
I wasn't sure why he was asking. The details were spelled out in the police report, and it sounded like he had already pulled it up on his computer. The report would tell him just about everyth
ing and included drawings showing the direction of travel of both vehicles and photos of the wreck.
But since he wanted to know more, I obliged by asking, “Do you have internet access?”
He answered, “Yes.”
“Good. Go to YouTube and search for 'Corvette flies into RV.' You'll find a video showing what happened.”
My answer brought an immediate reply. “Mr. Walker, I've seen the video. Everyone here has. But I didn't know it involved one of our customers. Are you sure you're okay? It looked like you took a pretty hard hit.”
Again, he used his concerned voice when asking about the accident. This time, it sounded sincere.
“Yeah, I'm okay. The doctors said I suffered a concussion and was lucky to get out alive.”
The agent agreed. “You were lucky. I'm glad you survived. From the video, it's clear your motorhome was totaled. I'm sure you'll want to resolve this as quickly as possible. Can I place you on hold while I transfer you to one of our adjusters?”
Again, the concerned voice. I told him it was okay, and after a few clicks, another man took the call. He said his name was Paul Jacobs and he would be handling my claim. His first question was, “Was that really you in the YouTube video?”
I assured him it was.
He then said, “I'm amazed you're still alive. Glad to hear it though. After seeing the video and the police report, I think we can take care of this quickly.
“Our records show your motorhome was fourteen years old. Is that correct?”
I told him it was.
“Good. According to NADA RV values, the average retail price of your motorhome would be about twenty-five thousand. Your policy will pay eighty percent of that, which comes out to twenty thousand.”
The statement took my breath away. Not because twenty grand was a lot of money. When it came to buying a motorhome, it wasn't. It wouldn't be nearly enough to cover the cost of a replacement.
Unfortunately, the agent didn't stop there. He had more bad news.
“Your policy has a five-thousand-dollar deductible, which brings the payout to fifteen thousand.
“We can cut you a check for that amount and send it next day air, if you agree.”