Home Sweet Gnome

by Jennifer Zane

  Fortunately, in the ladies’ haste they left the keys in the ignition. Pulling up to the street, JT waited for traffic, then turned right.

  “Um, JT, I think you need to take it—”

  The roving pickle scraped alongside a yellow pylon that protected a fire hydrant situated poorly just off the street. The pylon slid down the length of the RV, scraping against the side. Once the RV cleared it, the sound of metal on metal stopped. So did we. JT slammed on the brakes and I jerked against the seat belt.

  “Shit,” JT muttered, undid his seat belt and jumped out of the RV.

  I went out my door. Since the damage was on my side, I saw it first. It was like the Titanic hitting the iceberg, metal torn away in parts. Other spots were only dented in, and the entire right side of the RV had a new yellow stripe down it. It was a good thing Goldie wasn’t here to see this.

  “It’s a good thing I’ll be long gone when Goldie sees this,” JT said, his voice grim, repeating my thoughts.

  “You are such an asshat!” I shook my head and got back in the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt with more force than necessary. The condition of the RV was completely irrelevant at this point. Goldie had dented the front quite nicely, I’d added the shape of a motorcycle to the back bumper, and now we were driving the Titanic on wheels. Something else was going to go wrong. It had to. I was just three hundred miles from getting rid of the man and I needed to remain sane until then.

  While I waited for JT to climb back in, I checked my email on my phone. I clicked on my editor’s name in the inbox. He had a job for me in Brazil, studying the impacts of cows on the rainforest. I had to be there in a week. I felt relieved knowing I had something lined up, but the idea of heading off to the wilds of Brazil didn’t have me all excited. In fact, it made me even more tired.

  JT climbed back in and I put my phone away. He put the car in gear and began driving.

  “Coffee,” I muttered, ignoring everything else. “If you forget the coffee, I will kill you and leave you in the back bedroom to rot.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Crossing into Wyoming, I took over at a rest stop. The caffeine had kicked in and I felt functional once again, the hangover cured by Aunt Velma’s pills. Perhaps not rested, but I could drive. We hadn’t spoken other than to agree to change drivers. JT checked his phone and did some texting.

  “Making plans?” I asked.

  “Just telling Bob when I should be in.”

  “What about Sarah?”

  “What about her?”

  “Got a picture?”

  “It wouldn’t be a blind date if I had a photo.”

  I just turned my head and stared at him.

  “Fine. No. Bob didn’t send one. Why do Velma and Esther think you can do the roller derby thing?”

  I glanced at JT, then back at the road. “Changing the topic?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t even try to argue about it.

  “Fine. Because I used to play hockey.”

  “Field hockey with those little skirts? I can see that.”

  “No, ice hockey. Jeez, can you stop being such a chauvinistic asshole for five minutes?”

  “Wow, you said a bad word,” he countered, then grinned. “Ice hockey. Tell me all about it. You have my attention for a few more hours.”

  I sighed. “I played at boarding school in Vermont, then got a scholarship to Minnesota to play there.”

  “That’s it?”

  I wasn’t telling him about how good the team was. He wouldn’t care. “Eight years of hockey compressed into one sentence, so yeah, that’s it. Plus the anger issues I seem to have. Combined, I’ll probably do fine.”

  “Why are they so into it?”

  “Aunt Velma and Esther?” He nodded. “They were Roller Dolls back in the seventies. Won a few championships. When I moved in with Aunt Velma, she taught me all about it.”

  “You grew up with your aunt?”

  “Now you’re curious?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Yes. My parents left me with her when I was five.”

  He frowned. “Left you?”

  “Left me,” I repeated. There wasn’t anything more to tell. They were free spirits and didn’t want to be burdened with a headstrong, independent child so they dumped me on Aunt Velma’s doorstep.

  “And you? Did you grow up with that white picket fence you’re looking for?”

  JT’s jaw clenched. “No. My mother ran off with my piano teacher when I was six. My dad turned to alcohol and porn to ease the ache.”

  That sucked. I knew what it felt like to be left, but to be stuck with a disinterested parent was something different. Aunt Velma was never disinterested. Crazy, but not disinterested.

  “So you hate porn stars because your dad watched porn a lot?”

  “I hate what it did to him.” He sighed. “Goldie knew who I was the other day because my dad used to make me go into her store and pick up video rentals for him. She knew I was too young and dragged me into the back to talk to me about sex like she did to some of my friends who’d tried to rent from her. But she didn’t give me the sex talk. She knew about my dad and that the movies were for him. Instead of having a minor walk into her store, she arranged it so the movies were left for me at her husband’s doctor’s office.”

  “She did that? That must have saved you tons of embarrassment,” I replied. It was also really nice of her.

  “Embarrassment? Are you kidding? Goldie’s husband is an obstetrician. I had to go into a waiting room full of women who were pregnant or getting stuff looked at…down there. I was sixteen.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess that was how she gave you the sex talk after all.”

  “No kidding. Visions of pregnant women had me steering clear of sex for a long time.”

  “Porn isn’t real, you know.”

  JT eyed me. “Huh. I didn’t know that,” he replied sarcastically. “Like you, for example?”

  “Well, Silky Tangles at least. It’s her job. It’s fake. She’s an actress.” I said those one after another as I ticked them off with my fingers on the steering wheel.

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t be so hard on you because you’re a porn star.” It was my turn to eye him. “Fine. Fine. Your turn. If you don’t like being in Bozeman, why come back at all? Where do you live anyway?”

  I frowned. “Nowhere really. I had a place in LA, but that fell through earlier this month.” I was not telling him about Roger. No way, no how. “I travel so much that I don’t really have a place of my own. No furniture. No knick-knacks. No picket fence.”

  “Don’t you want one?” he countered.

  I thought for a minute. “I never really thought about it, I guess, because I never had that. Aunt Velma’s great and all, but she’s…larger than life. That’s why I went off to boarding school.”

  “It was so bad you wanted to go to boarding school?”

  “When I got my period for the first time, I was fourteen. She not only had a period party and invited all my girlfriends, she invited the boys in my class as well.”

  JT squirmed at the use of the word period in a sentence not in reference to a portion of a hockey game. “Gotcha. No need to say more.”

  “I didn’t really feel like I belonged anywhere. I guess…” I paused and sighed, lulled by the straightness of the road. “I guess I still don’t. I don’t have this dream I’m striving for like you do. I’m striving for…something, but I don’t know exactly what it is. I’m thinking I’ll know when I find it.”

  “Wow, that’s really—”

  “Holy fuck!” I shouted jumping up in my seat, but caught within the confines of the seat belt. Something furry wound around my ankles, scaring the ever-loving daylights out of me, then claws dug into my leg.

  I slammed on the brakes and held on to the wheel in a death grip as I steered the RV over to the shoulder, the sound of the rumble strips on the white line irritatingly loud. A hiss and a meow from hell came from the floor by
my feet. We stopped so abruptly we both jerked against our seat belts and something from the back hurtled through the air and hit the front windshield, shattering through it so it lodged just beneath where the rearview mirror should be.

  A car whizzed by and honked it’s horn.

  Tigger hopped up into my lap, gave a quick hiss, then bounded over the arm rest and into the back. Both of us turned our heads to stare after the satanic animal as it pranced into the back bedroom.

  “I thought Esther took that thing with her,” JT muttered, breathing hard.

  My heart rate was at stroke point, my adrenaline coursing through my veins so fast I was sweating.

  JT turned his head to look at me. I looked to JT. Our faces were only a few inches apart, our fast breathing loud in the cabin.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. The scar on his eyebrow was so pale in contrast to the dark hairs. The whiskers on his cheeks were on the way to being a beard. His eyes were so dark, almost black, and they dropped to my mouth.

  And then it happened. JT leaned in and kissed me, his lips warm and soft, his tongue dipping in as I gasped in not only surprise, but lust. It was unclear if it was the adrenaline that drove the insanity or perhaps the constant baiting, but the kiss definitely made no sense. But it felt…fabulous. I sighed and settled in, lifting my hands to tangle in his hair. He turned his head slightly and took the kiss deeper. When I made a little moaning sound at the back of my throat, JT pulled back. Stared at me. “Um…wow,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I know,” I panted. “Do it again.”

  Although I pulled his head in for more, JT quickly took over, kissing me the way he wanted, deep and lush licks, little nips on my bottom lip, thumbs caressing my cheeks.

  After who knew how long, we both pulled back. The look of surprise on his face could be from either almost dying from impalement or the kiss. Both were adrenaline inducing, both brought about butterflies in my stomach, both made me a little sweaty all over.

  “What was that for?” I whispered, ignoring his question. His lips were red and wet and he tasted…so good.

  “I just…I just needed to know.” He tugged on my messy ponytail.

  “Were you kissing Daphne or Silky?”

  He met my gaze, held it. “You. I kissed you.”

  That didn’t answer my question at all because I didn’t think he knew who I really was. A kiss didn’t solve anything—it felt incredible in its own special way—so I let the moment pass. Turning, I looked at the object lodged in the windshield, the glass shattered around it. It was George the Gnome, the top of his pointy hat had pierced through the window and he was turned to face me, grinning.

  JT undid his seat belt, then ran his hand through his hair, over the back of his neck and stared at the gnome.

  Eventually, he climbed from his seat and made his way to the back and peeked into the bedroom. The cat hissed and meowed, and JT pulled the door shut behind him. Claws scratched at the door before they stopped, another angry hiss, then nothing.

  “I told you that cat was feral. Holy crap, I may have peed my pants.” I took a deep breath.

  “Don’t open that door.”

  Like he had to tell me that.

  “Is there a reason why there are condoms scattered all over the bed in there?” He thumbed over his shoulder.

  “Condoms? What are you talking about?”

  JT shrugged. “All I know is that there about thirty condoms strewn all over the place. Some box must have been overturned when we stopped short.”

  I bit my lip. “Goldie. Crap. Of course they’re Goldie’s. I’ve heard she makes up boxes for people. Remember I told you about the one she made for her daughter-in-law, Jane. Matchmaking.”

  JT’s eyes went up. “That’s a lot of matchmaking. If we make it through all of those, I’d say we were well matched.”

  “If?” I asked.

  “When, then. When we make it through all of those—”

  “JT,” I groaned. “Don’t forget Tigger. How would you even get to them?”

  He frowned, then grinned. “That cat’s a cock blocker.” He made his way back to the front, leaned forward and tugged at the gnome. “It’s jammed in there good.”

  “Let’s not take it out. We won’t be able to drive with the air blowing in and I haven’t seen any duct tape.”

  He looked at the gnome again, then agreed. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No. I’m fine now, I think. I just need to stop sweating so I can grip the steering wheel.”

  “Then I’m going to walk around and make sure everything’s secure outside.”

  While he did that, I went to my bag and changed my pants. A Taser didn’t bring about an incontinent problem, a feral cat and a flying garden gnome did.

  ***

  The highway started to fill up with traffic, even in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, all headed to Sturgis. Where we hadn’t seen one motorcycle before, they were on the road in droves. The RV wasn’t quick moving to begin with, but our pace slowed the closer we got to the Rally. Traffic also slowed when it started to pass us, taking in the dents and scrapes, then the gnome in the windshield. We ate some of the chips Goldie had packed, but neither of us wanted to deal with making food, so we found a stop that had a gas station, a motel and a small restaurant that said it served breakfast all day.

  We didn’t talk about the kiss. We didn’t talk about anything. That didn’t mean I couldn’t think about it and how crazy it was. I didn’t even like the guy! But man, he could kiss. I felt more in that short kiss than I did sleeping with Roger. Of course, it could be that it had been so long that my memory was poor. Either way, it made my nipples perk up and my lady parts come out of hibernation. But he was ditching me in Sturgis for a woman named Sarah. A dentist who he figured could give him what he wanted. He wanted the whole picket fence thing, but he’d probably just end up getting sex. Most guys were fine with that. JT would probably be fine with that too, but he’d still go looking for it again with the next woman. Perhaps he just hadn’t found the right one yet.

  Perhaps I never found the right guy. Was it as simple as that?

  I didn’t have a chance to consider this because a group of six or seven Harleys pulled up, their engines loud.

  They dismounted then came over to us. “Dude, that’s a shame about your bike,” one guy said. They all were typical bikers, jeans, black boots, either a white or black T-shirt. One had a beard, another a handlebar mustache, another had a red bandana around his head. They all stood around the trailer, staring at JT’s bike in mourning.

  “It’s getting fixed in Sturgis.”

  “What happened to your RV?” Another guy came from the Titanic side and joined us by the trailer. “What the hell is stuck in your windshield?”

  “That would be a garden gnome,” I muttered.

  I shouldn’t have spoken up because the men shifted their attention from the dead bike to me. “Holy shit, you’re Silky Tangles.”

  “Dude, you lucky dog.”

  JT was getting his back slapped and I was getting ogled.

  “We didn’t know you were headlining in the area. Where’s your show? The Ripe Peach?” Different men were talking and I couldn’t keep up.

  “Are you two stopping for lunch?”

  “Yeah, join us.”

  “Shit, we’re having lunch with Silky Tangles!”

  Like a pack of wolves, I was culled from JT and led inside. The men were nice enough, courteous and thankfully kept their hands to themselves. They introduced themselves: Frank, Digger, Trey, Arty, Tom, Mike and Patrick. After about ten seconds I forgot who was who.

  Once inside, word spread like wildfire. I was placed me in the middle of a large circular booth, three men on each side of me. I wasn’t going anywhere unless I wanted to slip beneath the table and crawl out, and I wasn’t going to do that because it would give them some really pervy ideas.

  JT stood at the table, hands on hips.

&nb
sp; “Is he your manager or something?” one guy asked. I think he was Arty.

  “Something,” I replied. JT eyed me, probably trying to read my mind. I just rolled my eyes at him and shrugged my shoulders, which had him going over to a seat at the long counter, the waitress dropping a menu in front of him before wandering off.

  “Please don’t say he’s your boyfriend, it would ruin it,” Frank said hopefully.

  “Ruin it?” I repeated, and I saw JT tilt his head to listen in. He wasn’t far away. I felt safe, considering I was surrounded by a bunch of strange bikers. It wasn’t the fact that they were bikers, it was more that they stood up for each other, like brothers, even if they were strangers. The guys that sat with me weren’t the only bikers in the restaurant and I worried for JT. If someone did cross the invisible line, it would be him against a whole band of biker brothers.

  “We know it’s all an act, but I like knowing I’ve got a shot,” added Tom.

  I think I heard JT chuckle, but it was hard to tell.

  “It’s every guy’s fantasy to be with Silky Tangles.”

  I felt myself flush, even though I wasn’t her. “You know Silky Tangles is a stage name?” What her real name was, I had no idea, but no mother would strap her daughter with that from birth.

  “How did you get into acting?”

  “Is the guy John Boner really that hung?”

  “Do you do yoga to get that flexible or are you double jointed?”

  “Was it painful when you got your clit pierced?”

  The barrage of questions was overwhelming, but the last one had me choking on a piece of toast. JT spewed his coffee—once again—and swiveled around on his seat to hear this answer.

  The idea of a needle going anywhere near…there had me cringing. I thought of Goldie, who had the lowest embarrassment threshold known to man, where ridiculous questions and whispered talk slid off her like an egg in a Teflon pan. I could tell them I wasn’t really Silky, but it wouldn’t work. It didn’t work on JT and he was jaded. These guys, well, I had them eating out of the palm of my hand. Figuratively, but I had no doubt they’d literally do it if I asked. So there was nothing to do go with it. I envisioned what Goldie would say.