Alaskan Nights

by Nadia Scrieva

  “You can take care of things until I find someone else,” Andrew explained.

  “Like hell I will,” Rhonda said in disgust. “If you fire that young lady, I’ll quit.”

  Andrew held up his hands defensively. “Look, Rhonda. I really think this will be for the best. It’s obvious that Brynne doesn’t really want to be here…”

  “I need this job,” Brynne said, reaching out to grasp Andrew’s arm. “I want to be with you. Those things you said last night, didn’t you mean them?”

  Andrew pulled away. “I’m sorry, Brynne. I think you should grab your things and leave.”

  She stared in dumbfounded shock, feeling tears pricking the back of her eyes. Where will I go? she wondered. Where will I stay? Her despairing train of thought was interrupted by the sound of squealing tires outside the café, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal smashing into metal. Brynne turned and used her fingers to part the venetian blinds to survey the damage. She was startled to see a red Ferrari parked outside the café—its front end had crashed into a silver Mercedes.

  “My car!” Andrew shouted in anger as he bolted from the café. “I’m going to kill that asshole!”

  “That’s what I call instant kar-ma,” Rhonda whispered to Brynne.

  The younger woman attempted to smile through her tears. She watched through the blinds as Andrew ran out onto the road, screaming and cursing at the driver of the Ferrari. Brynne could not help feeling a small degree of satisfaction. However, when she saw the driver step out of the small red car, grinning and shrugging sheepishly, she froze. She recognized his face—what little of it was not covered by giant sunglasses. Callder. Picking herself out of the booth, she suddenly remembered the phone call she had received the night before. “Rhonda, I know him,” she whispered.

  “You know that hunk? The one driving the car that costs more than my house?”

  Brynne nodded, allowing her eyes to roam over Callder’s torso, and travel down his tailored pants to the tips of his polished shoes. “What the heck?” she mused. “He doesn’t look anything like he used to. He’s so… fancy.”

  “Who cares, darling!” Rhonda rushed behind the counter to grab Brynne’s purse and tossed it at her. “Go now. Get in that shiny car and make a grand exit with your handsome man. Andrew will eat his heart out. He won’t be able to sleep at night.”

  Brynne stared down at the purse which she had automatically lifted her hands to catch. A smile began to creep over her face. “Thanks, Rhon. How do I look?”

  “Like a complete mess,” Rhonda said with fond frankness. “Get out of here, girlie.”

  With a laugh, Brynne moved forward to hug the small woman and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Take care of yourself, Rhon.”

  “I’ll miss you, dear. Go have a crazy adventure!”

  Brynne moved to the exit and pushed the door open, exposing herself to the stream of profanities unleashed by Andrew. She barely noticed. The sun was bright for this early in the morning, and it warmed her skin. She stared at her old friend, and waited for him to notice her.

  “Honestly, buddy, there’s hardly a scratch!” Callder was saying defensively. He scratched his head as he examined the damage. “I’m really sorry. I’m just tired—I’ve been driving all night. I’ve had a few drinks too, I won’t lie. Everything was just blurring together in my vision. I must have mistaken your car for a trash can.”

  “A trash can!” Andrew shouted. “You motherfucking wanker!”

  “Wanker? Me?” Callder asked, almost hurt. “You’re double-parked, so that makes you a double… dickface.”

  Brynne laughed, drawing the attention of both men.

  Callder did a double take, reaching up to slide his sunglasses up onto his head. His eyes were red and bloodshot, but still smiling. “Hey, if it isn’t the lady I’ve been lookin’ for!” Callder said cheerfully. “Brynne—what the hell happened to your hair? You’re blonde!”

  “You don’t like it?” Brynne said self-consciously, lifting a hand to touch her highlighted sandy-brown hair. “Andrew said that my old color was too drab.”

  “Drab?” Callder repeated. “Who the heck is Andrew and why is he insulting your hair?”

  Brynne poked her finger in the direction of her ex-boss.

  Callder began to roll up his sleeves as he walked around the car. “I see. This jerk thinks he can go around making women change their hair color? For shame, you bully!” He swung his fist back in order to punch Andrew in the face. The restaurant owner cowered, but Callder’s fist stopped a few inches away from the man’s face. “You flinched!” Callder said with a chuckle, patting the man on the back in a friendly way. “Did you think I was actually going to hit you? No way, bro! I’m not a violent person. I don’t go around hitting people. Just their cars—by accident. Total accident. I only scraped a bit of paint off, really.”

  “You better pay to fix this!” Andrew shouted.

  “Sure! Sure thing, man,” Callder said with a wink. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to say ‘hello’ to the pretty blonde girl. You were right, by the way—that color looks dynamite on her.” With an appreciative nod, Callder moved over to Brynne and swept her up into his arms, placing a generous, sloppy smooch on her mouth. He French-kissed her with great enthusiasm for several seconds, earning a low wolf whistle from Rhonda, who looked on approvingly from the doorway. Finally, Callder released Brynne, and turned to the onlookers with a smug smirk. “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he said, reaching up to place his pretentious sunglasses back on his nose. He raised two of his fingers in a recognizable gesture. “Peace out.”

  Andrew scowled as he stared at the scene unfolding before him. “What the fuck, Brynne?” he said in a furious voice. “You know this guy?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “It is my business! Get your hands off her,” Andrew told Callder viciously.

  “Whoa, buddy,” Callder said in surprise. “Brynne can decide for herself whether she wants my hands on her or not. If I were a betting man—which I am—I would bet that she likes my hands exactly where they are. Don’t you, B?”

  “Can we get out of here?” Brynne asked Callder quietly. “Please.”

  Callder observed her sad eyes curiously. “Sure, kid. Let’s go home.”

  Brynne nodded gratefully.

  “Road trip or flying?” Callder asked.

  “With this car?” Brynne exclaimed. “Driving. Obviously.”

  Callder nodded in agreement. “Thought you’d say that. Got your passport?”

  “Always on me,” she said, patting her purse.

  “You can’t take her away,” Andrew protested. “She’s my girl. Brynne, look. I’m so sorry about earlier. I was just upset. Don’t go with this freak. I don’t trust him. I just needed some time to cool down…”

  “You’ll have a lifetime to cool down,” Brynne told him. She moved over to the Ferrari, and Callder rushed to her side to open the door for her. She stooped low to the ground to enter the vehicle, and waved at Rhonda through the glass when Callder shut the door.

  Walking around the car, Callder seemed very amused by the situation. “Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to crash your car and steal your girlfriend… but I guess I did. That’s just how I roll.”

  When they pulled away, Andrew was left fuming and sputtering in rage, while Rhonda chuckled softly. Brynne stared into the rearview mirror with delight until the café was no longer visible. When they had driven far enough away from the building that she began to feel better, she turned to Callder with a bright smile.

  “Hi,” she told him softly.

  “Hey, dahlin’,” he said with a cheeky grin. A huge yawn escaped his mouth as he pulled over to the side of the road. “Do you mind taking the wheel for a few hours while I nap? I have been driving for like twelve hours.”

  “Twelve hours? Where did you come from?” she asked him, unbuckling her seatbelt.

  “Las Vegas, of course!”
<
br />   Brynne frowned as she exited the vehicle. “Isn’t that a bit farther than twelve hours away?”

  “Sure. Why do you think I got the Ferrari?” he asked as he moved around the car. “I pretty much cut the trip in half with these wheels.”

  Brynne began to laugh. “Are you insane?”

  “Kind of,” he admitted, “and, I mean, also: this is your favorite car, right?”

  Brynne smiled as she settled into the driver’s seat, sliding her hands around the steering wheel. “Kind of.”

  “I remember you had that poster of the Ferrari up in the shop back home,” he explained.

  “This is a slightly newer model,” she said softly, flattered that he would remember such a small detail about her. She slammed her foot into the gas pedal. “But trust me, honey, I’m not complaining.”

  Chapter 3: The Easy Road

  A loud snore distracted Brynne from the road. She turned to her side to see Callder sprawled out in the passenger seat, his head tilted back and his mouth wide open. She was sure that she could even discern a giant droplet of drool threatening to plummet from his chin. The sight brought a smile to her face. She focused back on the road, for after almost two hours of driving, she was approaching the border crossing into Canada. She was pleased to see that the lineup of cars to pass through customs was not overlong. As they waited in the stop-and-go traffic, she fiddled with the controls on the vehicle, trying to figure out how to turn up the air conditioning. She was beginning to wish that she had stopped at home for a change of clothes and a shower, but she had been seized too strongly by the urge to escape from the city she had grown to hate.

  Besides, she thought to herself as she pulled up to the customs booth, I don’t have too many possessions that I’m going to miss.

  “Passports, please.”

  Putting the car in park, Brynne reached down to fish her passport out of her purse. She handed her document to the Canadian customs officer.

  “What about him?” the agent asked. She was a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, wearing a very a stern expression.

  Brynne hit her traveling companion in the shoulder. “Hey, Callder. Wake up.” The man did not stir. She hit him again, and again, to no effect. She turned to the border crossing agent apologetically. “I’m sorry. He drove all night to come and pick me up, so I guess he’s pooped.”

  “I can’t let you through unless I see his passport, ma’am.”

  “Maybe I can find it,” Brynne said, opening glove compartments and searching for the document. She reached across the car to check his pockets, and found a large wallet sitting in the left side of his trousers. “I think it’s here,” Brynne told the agent, carefully prying the wallet from Callder’s pants. She was startled when a hand clamped around her wrist.

  “If you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do was ask,” Callder told her with a yawn. “Are we in Canada yet?”

  “We will be if you hand over your passport,” Brynne told him with a blush.

  “Oh, it’s over here,” he said, reaching up to flip down the visor on the driver’s side of the car. The passport fell down into Brynne’s lap, and she quickly picked it up and handed it to the customs officer.

  “Citizenship?” the officer snapped.

  “We’re both Americans,” Brynne told the woman.

  “Where are you going today?” the woman asked harshly.

  “Tone down the attitude, hot mama!” Callder told her, removing his sunglasses. “We’re heading to sunny Alaska, where we’re both from.”

  The agent glowered at him, unimpressed. “Does this vehicle belong to you, ma’am?”

  “No,” Brynne said, touching the steering wheel fondly. “I wish it did. It’s his car.”

  The officer nodded, glaring at Callder. “What is the purpose of your trip, young man?”

  “That’s a really cute uniform,” Callder told her, leaning across Brynne to get a better look. “I really like a woman in a uniform—we should have a little costume party.” He gestured down to Brynne’s waitressing outfit.

  “The purpose of your trip?” the agent asked again.

  “My dad is really sick,” Brynne told the woman. “He’s in the hospital. We’re heading there to take care of him.”

  “I see,” the woman said, scanning their passports and looking at her computer. “And is this man you’re traveling with is your boyfriend?”

  “No,” Brynne said, while Callder simultaneously answered, “Yes.”

  Brynne stared at her rescuer in embarrassment. Callder leaned forward and winked at the border agent in a conspiratorial way. “Give her a few days to come around, and she’ll be begging for the honor.”

  The serious woman looked at them both suspiciously before handing their passports back. “Good luck with that. Have a safe trip—also, nice car.”

  Brynne groaned as she began to drive away, shoving Callder’s passport back at him. “Really? Begging?”

  “You don’t think I can make you beg?” Callder asked innocently, relaxing back into the car seat.

  “It’s impossible,” she told him defiantly.

  “I love a challenge,” he said, replacing his sunglasses onto his nose. “So why did you lie about your dad being in the hospital? I’m sure that lying to a customs officer is like, some sort of crime.”

  Brynne was quiet for a moment as she stared at the road. “I’m too ashamed to say that he’s in prison. Besides, she would have asked so many more questions.”

  “Little Brynne finally learned to lie,” Callder said with approval. “The most important skill in life.”

  “We have some catching up to do,” she told him, with a raised eyebrow. “You have to tell me how you became rich enough to afford a Ferrari in only four years.”

  “Later,” he said, waving his hand. “Can we stop somewhere to get a bite to eat? Maybe a bottle of water? I’m super dehydrated.”

  “Too much booze will do that,” Brynne said with a smile. She gestured to the GPS. “It looks like we’re coming up to a city called Abbotsford soon, so maybe we can grab some breakfast there…”

  She was interrupted by a very loud snore. Callder had already fallen asleep again.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is going to be a really romantic trip. I can see myself begging—begging for you to stop snoring, that is.”

  * * *

  Massive, snow-capped mountains were magically popping up on either side of the road, along with picturesque silver lakes and forests. Brynne wanted to roll down the windows to feel the fresh Canadian mountain breeze in her hair, but she was worried that the noise would wake Callder and disturb his slumber. His snoring had mostly quieted down, allowing her to enjoy the serenity of the scenery.

  She had noticed that they were running low on gas, and began looking for a place to pull over and fill up. When she saw a sign for entering a city called “Hope” she smiled at the pleasant name, and decided that it must be a nice enough spot for a break. She had been driving for several hours, and the traffic and hot noonday sun were making her feel tired and sticky. Brynne hoped to find a clothing store where she could buy a simple cotton dress for the sake of keeping cool. Following the signs for a gas station, she pulled into a small plaza. She was happy to see a diner as well, for her stomach had begun to growl. As soon as she positioned the car beside the pump and turned off the engine, Callder seemed to wake up with a jolt.

  “What’s happening?” he asked sleepily.

  Brynne reached out to rub the dashboard of the car lovingly. “Time to get filled up.”

  “That’s what she said,” Callder said as he popped out of the vehicle.

  Turning to look after him in puzzlement, Brynne wondered how he could seem like a fully grown man, dressed in adult man-clothes, and still appear to be a teenager every time he opened his mouth. Contrary to appearances, he did not seem to have aged a day. It was nice. It was easy to be around Callder—the atmosphere surrounding him was light a
nd airy. Brynne felt an unparalleled sense of freedom; a feeling she had long forgotten. It was a fresh change of pace from the heavy and suffocating presence of Andrew.

  Brynne’s phone rang, and she was surprised to find that it was still in her apron. Her first thought was that it must be Andrew, calling to apologize and ask her to come back home. She frowned, wondering if she would consider doing so. She looked in her side mirror to observe Callder filling the car up with gas. Picking the phone out of her apron, she saw that it was actually her mother calling.

  Taking a deep breath, Brynne answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Brynne Ambrose, where are you? Your grandmother is freaking out!”

  “I’m on my way home, Mom.”

  “How long until you get here? Please, Brynne, everything is such a mess. I need my little girl. You were always my rock in the hard times.”

  Brynne gulped. “Callder picked me up… we’re driving home now. Depending on how many stops we make, it could take us anywhere from two to four days to get there.”

  “Callder? Callder Murphy? That man is bad news… what are you doing with him?”

  “I know that he was kind of wild in his youth, but he seems to have cleaned up, Mom. He has a nice car, and expensive clothes—he must have a good job.”

  “Brynne, things are not always what they seem. He’s a scoundrel—he’s just like your father. He doesn’t work for his money, he squanders everything on booze and women, and he will always take the easy road, even if it means stepping on others or doing something illegal.”

  Frowning, Brynne turned her head to observe the man in question. “I really don’t think he’s that bad, Mom.”

  “You’ll learn soon enough.” Mrs. Ambrose sighed on the other end of the phone. “Brynne, sweetie—we went to the jailhouse to get your dad out, and they asked us for $10,000. We don’t have that kind of money, but I know you’ve been doing really well in the big city—can you help us out?”

  “Ten thousand dollars?” Brynne asked in shock. “You expect me to…”