“Hunger.” The woman met Tam’s eyes, and for just a second they were probably on the same page. “Like you said, when you see the exit for Henley, it’s impossible not to remember and I just needed a piece of this pie to fortify me for the road.”
“So let’s get you back on it,” Colleen said. “We’re going to stop in a couple of hours for the night anyway. If you prefer, we can stop in a bigger town so you can find a Hertz or something.”
The woman looked hesitant, but more than that, she looked ragged. Worn down. Beat up, without the bruises. She didn’t have any fight in her. She didn’t look like she ever had, actually. She looked how Tamara imagined herself to look after most conversations with her dad. So it wasn’t a huge surprise when she gave a limp shrug and said, “Thank you.”
Tamara’s heart sank, and she took a moment to think worse of herself for having such an uncharitable reaction to someone who was obviously as fucked over as she was. At least in some way.
“Good,” Colleen said, and it was obviously her Mom Voice. “Then it’s settled. We’ll pay up here, hit the road, and aim for—what, do you think? Rocky Mount? Farther, if we feel like it. But at least Rocky Mount. I’d hoped to stay only in little bed-and-breakfasts, but our day got hijacked, and at this point I’d welcome a bed in a Hampton Inn.”
“What happened to your day?”
Tamara was more than willing to answer that one. “We were driving, and this truck driver pulled up next to us and—”
“He was driving very aggressively,” Colleen interrupted, throwing a pointed look at Tam. “It felt threatening, so I took the first exit that felt safe, which was Henley.”
“Ah, so you are the coincidence here. I came for the pie, but you were just escaping.”
“I might have stopped for the pie too, though.”
The woman smiled, and for the first time, Tamara could see how she could be pretty. Or maybe once was. If she’d ever had any sort of meat on her frame instead of just looking like skin stretched over a plastic skeleton. She was what people meant when they said that skinny didn’t equal hot.
“The pie was always worth it.”
“We should get some for the road.”
Tamara’s mouth watered at the idea. They weren’t leaving the good food behind now; they were taking it with them. Truth was, this beat the hell out of easy mac or canned spaghetti or anything else she ate on a regular basis.
“Coconut cream to go?” Colleen asked, looking to both of them.
Both agreed, though Tam did it louder and with more urgency.
Colleen called the order out—it was that kind of place—and the waitress said she’d box it up.
Another one of those pregnant pauses stretched between them.
“So,” Tamara said, unable to quell that old instinct to fill it. “I’m sorry, but I’m not really sure what you want me to call you … Mrs. Camalier? Or—?”
“Bitty,” the woman interrupted. It was the strongest her voice had been the entire time they’d been talking. “My name is Bitty Nolan.”
Wasn’t she Wilhelmina Camalier a minute ago? Whatever. “Cool. Bitty. I’m Tamara. Or Tam.” She took the nickname she had somehow gotten from Colleen and used it. Lame as it was, it felt good to have one, and she wanted to use it.
Wilhelmina-slash-Bitty wasn’t the only one who maybe didn’t want to be herself tonight. Tam liked the idea of taking a break from being a screwed-up teenager and, instead, maybe just being a normal girl.
With a nickname.
Why not? It wasn’t like she was ever really going to see this woman again. She probably wasn’t even going to see Colleen again after this trip was over. That’s how it was in Tamara Bradley’s life—people didn’t stay. They didn’t even come in on purpose, but if they found themselves there, they left as soon as possible.
So why not be whoever she wanted to be in the meantime?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Colleen and Bitty, the past
“I just don’t see us fitting in that car. All of us? No way.”
“Oh, Bit,” said Colleen, looping an arm through hers and resting a head on her shoulder. “Don’t be such a worrywart—we’ll be fine. We’ll fit.”
Bitty shook her head. “It’s not safe. We should get another driver.”
“There is no other driver! Tom’s the only one willing to stay sober, so just relax.”
“I could drive.”
“Hell no—I don’t know one of us who needs a drink more than you do.”
Bitty sighed, and Colleen rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
“What seems to be the problem here, ladies?”
Blake Leon, always in busted-up jeans and a backward hat, stepped between the two girls and put an arm around each of them.
Colleen reached for his wrist, which dangled over her left shoulder, and said, “Bitty here is worried we won’t fit in the car. So she wants to get another designated driver and car.”
Blake stepped away, pulling his arms from around them, and placed a hand on each of Bitty’s shoulders. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this … but I happen to be a Tetris master.”
Colleen snorted with laughter and sat on the thigh-high cement wall they stood in front of.
“And I don’t mean to brag,” Blake went on, “but my clown-car work has been featured in magazines. I’m pretty popular for it.”
“Oh yeah, magazines like what?” Bitty cocked a head, playing along as Colleen continued laughing.
“Uh, jeez, where do I start?” He scanned the sky for names. “There’s Clowns Weekly, obviously. And Car Crammers—that one described me as ‘dashingly handsome,’ but that’s pretty subjective. And, you know, a few others. Guinness wanted me for its world records, but I”—he paused and let out a long breath—“well, I didn’t want the press.”
Bitty’s jaw clenched with repressed laughter. “Well, then I guess I have no choice but to trust you.”
Blake sighed, his face frozen in a resigned expression. “I didn’t want to have to work on the weekend, but I’ll do it for you, Miss Bitty.”
He went back to the group of guys waiting for Tom a couple feet away.
Colleen stood and went to Bitty with a look that said, So, is he not as hot as I said?
“He’s pretty cute,” Bitty confirmed, clearly reading Colleen’s expression.
“Pretty— Oh, Bitty, you’re a fool. He’s adorable as hell, and he’s a good guy. I don’t understand your constant trepidation.”
“I just don’t date that much.”
“Um, yes, I know this. I’m your friend, remember? I see you sitting around Not Dating all the time.” Colleen shook her head. “I can’t wait till someone pulls you out of your shell. And I feel like Blake just might have the right amount of disarming charm to do it.”
Tom pulled up in his crappy Corolla, no doubt as tiny as Bitty had feared it would be, and the loading in began. First the guys filled up the backseat; then Colleen crawled over the laps onto one of the guys. Bitty followed as you might if you were about to slowly lower yourself into an ice-cold pool. First a toe, then the foot, then finally waist deep, until finally she was all in, but still trying to keep her face and hair dry.
Colleen was laughing about something with one of the guys already, and Tom had some loud punk rock band turned up.
Bitty sat on Blake’s lap, him readjusting her when her rear end trenched into his thigh. “You’re all bones, girl.”
She stared out the window, avoiding Colleen’s Oh my God, date him—you guys are too cute! gaze, but Colleen noticed a small smile playing at Bitty’s lips.
Blake thought she was hot; he’d already unabashedly admitted so to Colleen. He was a straight shooter. She knew it was going to be hard to get Bitty to loosen up—she was always slow to feel comfortable. Of course, when the two of them gabbed, Bitty would be uninhibited and not nervous at all. But get her in front of a group of people, and she retreated, like a hermit crab scrambling back into her shell.
&nb
sp; They finally got to their destination—down the highway, into the woods, where you would never expect to find a bar, and inside Woodchuck Couldchuck. A band was playing, and now that they were newly twenty-one, Colleen could finally force Bitty to go out and do some things.
They spilled from the car, Bitty straightening her white miniskirt and black blouse, and Colleen pulling her Daisy Dukes down a little and straightening her belt.
“It’ll be fun,” Colleen promised, shoving her a little with a shoulder as they made their way inside.
Once there, all of them getting a hand stamp that said they’d shown the ID proving they were twenty-one, Colleen walked straight up to the bar and ordered two Sea Breezes and two shots of whiskey.
It was the age of not minding if she drank two completely separate kinds of liquor, and of not paying for it in the morning.
She handed the shot and pretty pink drink to Bitty. That was one fun and unexpected thing about Bitty—she came off like something of a priss, but the girl could throw back a shot of rail whiskey without batting a lacquered eyelash.
They took the shots, and Colleen grinned at the look of surprise on Blake’s face when he watched Bitty. His eyes shifted to Colleen and she gave a small shrug, one that said, Yep, my pal is awesome. Told ya so.
The band started in, and not long after, Bitty had already loosened up. She was getting chatty, and had those rosy cheeks that always proved she’d had a few drinks.
Colleen couldn’t hear what Bitty was saying to Blake, but judging from the way she stood with one hand stirring her drink by the straw, her hair swept to one side, and wearing a challenging smile, she would place good money that her friend was flirting. And judging by the raised eyebrows and intrigued grin Blake was returning, he was enjoying it.
“I’m such a good little matchmaker,” Colleen said to her semi-beau, just to call someone else’s attention to the cute scene before them. She didn’t know why she was always so determined to set people up. She’d been burned doing it more often than not, inevitably breaking up with her boyfriend while her friend continued on with his friend, putting her in an icky position of heartache and jealousy.
But she was a romantic soul and maybe something of a control freak, and so she liked to be the one responsible for helping two poor lonely souls find each other and true love.
This, however … This might have been her biggest challenge yet. Bitty wasn’t an easy sell, and she definitely wasn’t a pushover. She was shy and picky and hesitant and skeptical all wrapped into one pretty package.
But by the time they loaded back into Tom’s car, hours later, Bitty wasn’t hesitating. She had climbed into the car and sunk down into Blake, allowing him to put his arms around her.
Bitty felt his warm, hard chest on her back. She wasn’t going to go all the way with him. Not tonight. Not next week. Not anytime in the foreseeable future. Bitty had been holding on to her virginity like a child held on to a security blanket. Everyone who knew her knew that. Even then, it had seemed kind of quaint, old-fashioned, and more annoying than anything else.
But this was a start, at least. She was open to Blake. Open to the idea of him. She was touching him and not tightening her mouth into a hard judgmental line and walking away from this.
So there was hope.
Maybe Bitty would fall in love and get her happily-ever-after after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Colleen
The iced tea from the diner kicked in pretty quickly, and they went right on past Rocky Mount, then detoured off 95 south into Raleigh, North Carolina. Thanks to some nimble-fingered Yelp work on Tamara’s part, reading descriptions and clicking in numbers, they had reservations at a place called the Velvet Cloak Inn. Colleen had insisted they give it a try because the place sounded much more appealing than any ordinary La Quinta or Motel 6 on the highway.
Tamara sat in one of the high-backed Alice in Wonderland–type chairs in the lobby as Colleen checked in and got the key.
Next to her, Bitty was trying to get her own room.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, without some form of identification and a credit card guarantee, I’m not able to give you a room,” the poor hapless clerk was telling Bitty. He looked like the kind of kid whose face was always kind of red, but it was absolutely blooming now in response to Bitty.
“Do I need to talk to your manager?” Bitty asked. “Because I don’t believe you are allowed to be prejudiced against a person simply because they opt not to be licensed drivers and have the good sense not to get caught up in the mire of credit cards.”
“But if something were to happen to the room—”
Bitty stepped back and splayed her arms. “What do I look like I’m going to do to a hotel room? Do I look like some raunchy rock star who’s going to trash the place?”
“Well, you could get porn all night and not pay-per-view it,” Colleen said with a smile.
Bitty shot her a look. “Not helpful.”
The young clerk’s face grew even redder. “We’re not able to turn the pay-per-view options off.”
“I’m not going to be watching pay-per-view!” She gave Colleen a See what you started? look that Colleen actually recognized from the old days.
“Bitty, why don’t you just stay in our room with us? I’ve got two queen beds and a daybed—there’s plenty of room.”
“Thank you,” Bitty answered in a controlled tone. “But there is no legal reason why I can’t get a room. I have enough cash to pay for it.”
The clerk excused himself to go speak with his manager, and Colleen imagined he would be swabbing his forehead plenty as well, since he didn’t look like he was very comfortable with conflict. Little place like this, it wasn’t surprising. They probably got plenty of guests, but they were probably all just weary travelers looking to rest for a few hours before hitting the road again. Or drunk kids looking to stay within a cheap cab ride of downtown.
They were the weary travelers. And only five and a half hours from home.
A beefy man came out of the back, wiping what appeared to be chicken wing grease from the corners of his mouth. The clerk was behind him, looking like a child in comparison.
“Ma’am? I understand there’s a problem?”
“There is,” Bitty said, “but I don’t understand it. I need a room for the night. Not even for the night, for a few hours. And I’m being told that because I don’t drive or rack up debt, I’m ineligible.”
This was getting ridiculous. Colleen knew this look, this tone. Bitty was standing on a principle now, not arguing for anything that actually mattered.
“No license or state ID, no credit card for incidentals, no room,” the man said, and honestly, there was clearly no arguing with him. Even if Bitty had a point—and she kind of did—it was really obvious that this guy wasn’t in the mood for it and he wasn’t likely to care what the legal technicalities were; he just wanted to get back to whatever greasy stuff he was eating in the back.
“Bitty, I’m serious, come to our room with us. We’re all tired, and this is going to go on forever if you fight it—and you’re still not going to win.”
Bitty glanced self-consciously at the clerk and manager. She didn’t like to lose either.
But Colleen didn’t care. “You’re never going to be back here again, just give it up for now. We’ll figure out the lost cards tomorrow. Come on.”
Bitty sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to keep you up all night, and I know you won’t go to bed as long as I’m standing here.”
“That’s right.”
“But I’m not pleased. I’ll definitely be writing a letter to the owner of this place. Which I will never visit again.”
Colleen almost laughed at the look of relief on the clerk’s face. The manager, on the other hand, looked like he just could not care less.
The room was less interesting than the description Tamara had read to her, and certainly less elaborate than the lobby would have suggested. The two queen beds clearly dipped in the mid
dle, under thin linens and bedspreads that looked like the cheap “bed in a bag” sets sold at discount stores. There was a vanity with two yellowed sinks at the end of the room, embellished by a mirror that was going black in spots, and the toilet and shower—more accurately a “shoilet”—were closed off by a flimsy particleboard door. There were small chipped tiles on the floor and an ill-fitting plastic bathtub cover that must have been what they meant by “recently renovated.”
Clearly all the motel’s funds had gone into creating an illusion in the public areas, because the room may as well have been in any dinky roadside chain lodging in the world. But it was clean, and had two queen-size beds and a daybed, as promised.
They’d started to get ready for bed, shoes off, bras slipped out from under shirts, teeth brushed, when Bitty pulled Colleen aside. “Do you think I could borrow your car for just a few minutes? I need to run to the store to get a few things. I noticed there was a CVS when we pulled off the exit.”
“Oh.” Colleen hesitated, and then felt stupid for hesitating. What could the harm be? “Yeah, of course. Are you comfortable driving with the trailer hooked on? I could take you, if you want.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Bitty said quickly. “Can’t be nearly as bad as driving a horse trailer with two spooked mares in the back.”
“No, I guess not.” There wasn’t much in the trailer yet, so there wouldn’t be any shifting loads. Why not? What was she worried about? She took the keys out of her bag and tossed them to Bitty, who caught them with surprising agility.
“Thanks. I’ll be back soon.” Then, seemingly an afterthought, “Do you need anything?”
Colleen had brought every single thing she could think of for every possible eventuality. She was prepared for an unexpected menstrual period or a tsunami. “No, I’m good. Tamara?”
“Nope.”
“All right, then. Thanks for everything.” With that, Bitty left the room.
Thanks for everything?
Driving With the Top Down Page 9