by Dixie Cash
Everything went well until the appearance of her fourth customer of the day. Paige heard her coming before she reached the counter. Scuff-pop, scuff-pop. The sound was unmistakable. Flip-flops.
Also unmistakable was the three hundred pounds or more the young wearer of the shoes carried on her vertically challenged frame. Yet her makeup application was excellent, and her features were striking. A slimmer version of the woman would have turned heads anywhere.
When she ordered three Big Macs, a super-size order of fries, and an extra-large chocolate milk shake, Paige couldn’t resist the urge to advise. “Wouldn’t you prefer a salad? Or how about a Fruit and Yogurt Parfait? Those are really delicious, and they’re probably low-cal.”
The woman jammed chubby fists against her hips. “’Scuse me? I tol’ you what I want.”
“I know. But a salad would be so much better for you.”
All at once it became Angry Customer Bobble Head Day at McDonald’s. The young woman raised a palm. “Oh no you di’n’t. You di’n’t call me fat?”
Paige couldn’t recall uttering the word fat. Even if she had, anyone could see her suggestion had the young lady’s best interest at heart. “No, heaven’s no. I’m not saying you’re fat. I just think you could be a little…thinner.”
“I’ll tell you one thing, Barbie Doll. I’m thin enough to climb across this counter and make a salad outta your pretty little face. How about that, Barbie? Wanna follow that with some fruit and yogurt?”
Barbie? Paige rolled her eyes. Not the first time someone had compared her to the plastic diva. “Well. There is absolutely no reason for you to get so belligerent and—”
“Did you say belligerent? Honey, I’m past belligerent. Ronald McDonald’ll be bringing me breakfast in bed after my lawyer kicks his ass.”
Melvin rushed in, pale and shaken, and delivered the angry customer’s order. “Here ya go, ma’am. Just as you ordered. I threw in two apple pies for you. Let me know if you’d like some ice cream on top. No charge, of course.”
The woman eyed the assortment of food heaped on the tray. “Well, tha’s more like it.” She shot Paige one more deadly glare and waddled off with her prize.
Paige wanted to cry. Melvin stared up at her, his no-color accusing eyes magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses. “Paige, you’re fired.”
THE PHONE WAS screeching hysterically when Paige walked into her apartment. Paige wanted to join it, but she picked up and answered with a lifeless voice.
“Paige, honey? Sweetie, are you sick? You sound terrible.”
“Oh, hi, Daddy. No, I’m just…I’m—” She broke into sobs.
“Paige, what’s wrong. Honey, you’re scarin’ me. I’m fixin’ to come over there.”
“No, don’t.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on a sheet of paper towel. “I’m okay. I don’t need you to come over.”
“Well, what’s wrong? It’s not like you to be so emotional. Is it Judd? If I have to come over there and straighten—”
“No, no, it isn’t Judd. I’m just a little low.”
“Darlin’, I’ve talked to Enron executives who didn’t sound as despondent as you do. Tell your ol’ daddy what’s wrong.”
“I got fired,” she cried. “From McDonald’s.”
“McDonald & Dietrich? Why, those sonsabitches. They know better than to fuck with me and mine. Tell Daddy what happened.”
Paige frowned and sobbed. “Not the law firm. McDonald’s. The hamburger place. You know, fast food, drive-thru service?”
A pause. Paige assumed her daddy was recovering from shock.
“Why don’t you fill me in on what’s been going on with your job search,” he said at last. “Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
Paige told him about the past few weeks, ending with the fact that she had no money left. “Daddy, I’ve really been trying. I know I’ve got to do this on my own, but I’ve hit bottom. Would you help me just this once? I don’t want you to support me, but you know so many people. If you could just make a phone call or two, I promise to do the rest.”
“What kind of work do you want to do?”
All she had ever really wanted to do was work with horses as her mother had done, work that had earned Charlotte McBride respect that had endured beyond her death. Daddy’s refusal to understand, her stepmother’s nagging about time spent in the barn with animals, and their trying to force private schools and higher education down her throat had been a source of frustration to Paige for years.
She sniffed. “I want to be like my mom. I want to work with horses. I want Margaret Ann to leave me alone and stay out of my life…. But I’ll do anything you say, Daddy. I’ll try hard wherever I go.”
“Okay, baby. It’s killing me seeing you miserable. Maybe we can figure this out together, just you and me. Let me make a phone call tonight. I’ll call you back.”
Paige sniffled and blew her nose on a new sheet of paper towel. “Thanks, Daddy.”
four
Honey, I’ve got some good news about a job.”
In a sleepy daze, Paige fumbled with the receiver. Though she had slept through a whole night for the first time in she couldn’t remember when, the moment she recognized the voice, she became wide awake. “Really? Oh, thank you so much, Daddy.”
His chuckle sent a little flurry of uneasiness through her. “Now don’t be too quick to thank me. You don’t know what the job is yet.”
“I don’t care what it is. I won’t let you down. I promise. Who did you call? Tell me everything.”
“Whoa, sweet pea, slow down. You remember Harley Carruthers? Lives in West Texas, little place called Salt Lick? You went there with me once when you were just a kid.”
Ohmygod, this was good news beyond belief. The Carruthers Oil & Gas Company was an empire. Paige felt her pulse rate surge.
“Of course I remember Harley. I always wondered what happened to him after his wife was murdered.”
The titillating story of Pearl Ann Carruthers’s murder had held captive the attention of Texans for months. Many believed the deceased woman had met her just reward.
“Harley’s doin’ great. Remarried. Still dividing his time between Salt Lick and Midland.” Her daddy paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I told him about you. Gave him a little history.”
Paige bit down on her lower lip. Terrific. Now another person knew she was a complete screwup. “You didn’t tell him I got fired from McDonald’s, did you? I don’t want him thinking I can’t even hold down a job most teenagers can do.”
“I didn’t go into that much detail. I just told him you needed a leg up on this job huntin’ thing.”
“Thanks. That’s perfect.”
“He thinks he’s got something.”
“Oh, that’s so wonderful. You’re the best. Where’s the office? Downtown Dallas?” Visions of shopping for career clothes danced in her head. “Ooohh, I can hardly wait. Or is it Fort Worth?”
Silence.
“Daddy?”
“You’ll have to relocate, sweetheart. Move out to the Midland area.”
Yikes! Midland? “But I don’t want to move.”
“I didn’t think you would, but sweetheart, he’s closed his offices in Dallas and relocated all operations to Midland. You know, darlin’, Southwest Airlines has daily flights going out of Love Field. Takes less than an hour. Hell, you can be stuck that long in traffic between malls.”
Paige couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from turning down into a pout. She loved her condo, loved its location near Hulen Mall for casual shopping, loved being near downtown Fort Worth for entertainment. Why, she was no more than an hour’s drive from The Galleria in Dallas. “I can’t remember the last time I was in that part of Texas, but I don’t think I liked it.”
“Since you’ve got time on your hands, why don’t you drive out that way and visit Harley. Meet his new wife. Might lift your spirits.”
Paige chewed on one contorted fingern
ail. She hadn’t dared spend the money to have her nails redone after they nearly melted at McDonald’s. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Don’t tell me Judd’s still got that SUV. Paige, I swear—”
“He brought it back. I don’t have the money for a trip out of town.”
“I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll pay for the trip. I’ll call it an investment in your future.”
Temptation nudged her. C’mon, it said, what could it hurt to talk to Harley? He might have an offer you can’t refuse.
But in Midland?
“Okay,” she said, unable to disguise a grudging tone. “It’s a deal…I think.”
“Great, punkin. I knew you’d see it your ol’ daddy’s way. I’ve already told him you’d be at his ranch Monday afternoon. Five o’clock. Don’t be late, now.”
Her father hung up before she could ask why she was to meet Harley at his home rather than his office. She stared at the phone for several beats. So confident she would drop everything and drive four hundred miles to West Texas, her daddy had made an appointment without consulting her. She didn’t mind that he knew her so well, but she hated being a foregone conclusion.
PAIGE LEFT EARLY Monday morning, intending to take her time and enjoy the drive west. She would get into Midland mid-afternoon, check into a hotel, change clothes, then drive the additional sixty miles to Salt Lick.
Having learned her lesson about dressing for a successful interview, she picked her wardrobe with great care. Harley hadn’t seen her since she was a teenager in jeans and a bill cap, when she had accompanied her daddy to the Carruthers ranch on a cattle-buying trip.
Settled into her room at the Hilton in downtown Midland, Paige busied herself redoing her makeup. Then she pulled her long blond hair back and clasped it at her neck with a gold clip. The Albert Nipon godet suit in cherry red—she had bought it before her shopping expeditions had been squelched by poverty—hung in the closet. She slipped on the form-fitting skirt and admired the cute little flounces at the hem. The long sleeves would be perfect for the fall temperature. She buttoned the fitted jacket and straightened the collar. With her ears showing, the diamond studs from her daddy were perfect to complete the image of an upwardly mobile, career-minded young woman. Red leather Pradas and matching handbag lay on the bed.
Taking one last look in the mirror she gave herself a thumbs-up. “Magnifique,” she pronounced, which just happened to be the only word she had retained from six semesters studying the ridiculous French language.
Driving through Midland, the city seemed different from when she had last seen it. She remembered it being larger. Busier. The collapse of the oil economy had left a scar that showed more visibly in wide-open West Texas than in the crowded Fort Worth–Dallas Metroplex. Midland still had its share of millionaires, Daddy had told her, but they weren’t as rich as they had once been.
Along the stretch of highway between Midland and Odessa it was impossible to discern where one city ended and the other began. The highway from Odessa to Salt Lick, on the other hand, provided a marked contrast. The long road stretched in front of her like a silver ribbon. She had it all to herself, the vast landscape on either side flat and uncluttered by anything but a few mesquite trees, cactus, and tumbleweeds. And pumpjacks, as still as if they had been frozen midpump. Visible but static testimony to the vast lake of oil that lay beneath the West Texas sands and the engine that had once driven the area economy.
I’d hate to find myself stranded out here, Paige thought. Seconds later, the SUV began to pull to the right and she heard a sickening whomp-whomp-whomp. She came to a stop on the shoulder, slid out, and confirmed what she feared. Her right front tire was as flat as her surroundings.
She muttered a string of cuss words she usually didn’t use, but a flat tire in the middle of nowhere was enough to make the pope cuss. What in the hell was she going to do? She had changed a flat tire before, but not in a three-hundred-dollar suit. And not on her way to a job interview that could change her life.
Think, Paige, think.
AAA! Auto Club!
Things were looking up. Her daddy had handed her the membership card and a speech about how if she ever got into trouble on the road to call them. She had stuck the card in her wallet and never thought of it again. Until now.
She returned to the cab, found the card, and plucked her cell phone from her purse. She just hoped someone wouldn’t dally reaching her. Sitting alone on an isolated highway was not her idea of a good time.
Keying in AAA’s emergency number, she noticed no high-pitched beeps accompanying her entry. Without looking, she knew. She hadn’t charged the phone in several days. It was as dead as her career at McDonald’s. Now it was nothing but a useless piece of plastic.
Daddy’s words echoed in her head. Don’t be late, now.
Late? She would be lucky if she got there at all.
If only she hadn’t left her luggage at the hotel. If she had her suitcase, she could put on more appropriate clothing and change the tire. But that thinking made sense only now. To have loaded her SUV with her suitcases, when she was planning on returning to the hotel after meeting with Harley, wouldn’t have been logical.
She had returned to the driver’s seat, dejected and fighting back tears, when she heard the distant highway noise of a vehicle approaching from behind her. She glanced into her rearview mirror. Sure enough, an old pickup with a lone occupant was nearing. Desperate times called for a desperate prayer. Lord, don’t let this be a rapist. And if it is, please let him change my tire first.
She leapt from her seat and took a stance in the middle of the highway, waving her arms over her head.
OF ALL THE THINGS Spur Atwater could think of that he didn’t need at this moment, number one on the list was a damsel in distress. Leaving a woman, especially a drop-dead, good-looking blonde on the side of the road, was something he would never consider doing.
But if he ever would consider it, today would be that day. He had an appointment to meet Dr. Miller at the veterinary clinic in Salt Lick for a walk-through. Spur had no intention of arriving late and making a bad impression.
Coming to a stop beside the leggy blonde in the red dress, he leaned across the seat and cranked down the passenger window. “Give you a lift?”
A long level look came at him from sky blue eyes, and something told him he had seen those eyes before.
“Thanks,” she said, “but that isn’t necessary. I’m in Triple A. If I can just borrow your cell, I’ll call them.” She held up a hot pink cell phone. “Mine’s dead.”
“Uh, sorry. Don’t have a cell phone. I’m on my way to Salt Lick. If it’ll help you out, I’m glad to give you a ride.”
Her eyes traveled over his old truck. He thought she was thinking about taking him up on his offer when suddenly she assumed a coquettish look. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
God, how he hated that helpless southern belle routine in women. Why couldn’t they be direct? Peering over the top of his sunglasses, Spur looked closer at her face. Shit! Daddy’s girl. What in the hell was she doing in the middle of the West Texas desert?
“I know you,” he said, giving her the squint-eye. “The lady with the accountant…Or that is, daddy’s accountant. Aren’t you kinda far from the nearest mall?”
“That’s none of your business. I need someone to help me. If you aren’t willing, just drive on.” She turned her head and stuck her nose in the air.
Spur looked around. Given the emptiness he saw in any direction, he was surprised by her attitude. He had half expected her to break into tears, at which point he would have had to put his truck in reverse and run over her. “I’ve offered you a ride to town, ma’am. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“I can’t go to town and leave my SUV here. I can’t risk it getting stolen or vandalized. Daddy’ll—”
“Ma’am,” Spur cut in. Daddy again. He didn’t want to hear it. “I doubt if vandalism or theft will be a problem. This isn’t the big city.
”
“I’m still not leaving it. Besides, I have to be on the other side of Salt Lick at the Carruthers ranch in less than an hour. If your business is in town, taking me to the Flying C would be out of your way. I don’t want to trouble you, but can’t you just change the tire?”
Ah, well, that explained some of it. This fancy-dressed socialite was attending a function at the millionaire’s home. No surprise that she took no notice that Spur was dressed up himself—a starched white dress shirt, his only one, and starched jeans. And even if she had noticed, she wouldn’t care. “You think changing a tire’s no trouble?”
“Well, not for someone like you.”
He tucked back his chin and stared at her. “Someone like me?”
“I meant someone big. And strong. You look like you could—Dammit, are you going to help me or not? I’m happy to pay you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was so typical of the rich to whip out the ol’ wallet and buy a solution to every problem. Leaving Miss America stranded on the side of the road would serve her right. But it wasn’t in him to be that mean.
Throwing open his door, he stepped out of his truck and strode toward her, loosening his cuffs as he walked. Setting his jaw and locking his gaze on her face, he pulled his shirttail from his waistband, unbuttoned his shirt and whipped it off.
Her eyes grew round as saucers. She backed away, yanked off one of her high-heeled shoes, raised it over her head, and hopped into a half-squat like a Sumo wrestler. Her skirt rode up her thighs, clear to her panty line.
“Don’t take another step,” she warned. “I know martial arts.”
Jee-zus Christ. A bona fide nut if he had ever met one. Spur leveled a withering gaze at her as he walked past, extending his shirt in her direction. “Hold this for me, grasshopper, while I get this tire changed. And don’t let it get wrinkled and dirty.”