Mad River Road

by Joy Fielding

  “Well, Butthead sounds pretty good to me, and you can’t beat the Ritz. What do you say?”

  Jamie smiled. “You can’t beat the Ritz,” she agreed.

  The sumptuous white-and-gold lobby of the Ritz Carlton Hotel was crowded with Japanese tourists as Jamie followed Brad to the front desk. “We’d like a room for tonight,” Brad told the clerk as soon as the young man in the dark suit and crisp white shirt finished with the guest who was registering. “A suite, if you have one.” Brad snapped his credit card down on the marble counter.

  “Very good, sir. Just let me check what’s available.”

  A suite, Jamie was thinking. A suite at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. “My ex-mother-in-law would probably have a heart attack and die if she saw me now,” Jamie whispered, unable to keep the glee out of her voice.

  “We have a lovely, nonsmoking suite available on the tenth floor, overlooking the Galleria.”

  “What do you think, Jamie?” Brad asked. “A suite overlooking the Galleria?”

  “Why not?” Jamie replied with a laugh.

  “The lady says, Why not?” Brad repeated. He turned back to Jamie, whispered in her ear, “What’s a Galleria?”

  “If you’ll just sign here, Mr. Hastings,” the clerk said, glancing at the credit card and pushing a form forward for Brad’s signature.

  Mr. Hastings? Jamie wondered, about to correct him. But the clerk was already taking a swipe of Brad’s credit card. She watched him pause, try it a second time.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Would you have another card, by any chance?”

  “What’s the matter with that one?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not going through.”

  “That’s impossible. Try it again.”

  The clerk tried it a third time. “I’m sorry, sir. Perhaps another card …”

  “What’s the problem?” Jamie asked.

  Brad’s face darkened. “It’s the stupid card. The magnetic strip must be on the fritz.”

  “A fritz at the Ritz?” Jamie asked, hoping for a smile, receiving only a tense pursing of his lips. “That happens to me all the time. Do you have a piece of cellophane?” Jamie asked the clerk. “Sometimes if you wrap the card in cellophane … Or if you have a plastic bag …”

  “Jamie, forget it. We’ll just go somewhere else.”

  Jamie felt her heart sink. She’d had her heart set on the Ritz. “I have a credit card,” she offered, reaching into her purse and handing her card to the clerk. What the hell? How much could one night cost?

  “I don’t want to use your card,” Brad said.

  “Come on. You’ve paid for everything else.”

  “I’m sorry.” The clerk looked from side to side selfconsciously, as if appealing to his colleagues for help. “I’m afraid this card has also been declined.”

  “Shoot,” Jamie muttered. She hadn’t gotten around to paying her last bill, and the cost of the suite had probably put her over her limit. “How about just a regular room?”

  “I’m afraid there are none available,” the clerk said, his voice so tentative even Jamie knew he was lying. “Perhaps you might try the Embassy Suites. They’re only several blocks away.”

  “Shove your goddamn Embassy Suites,” Brad said.

  “Brad—”

  “Come on, Jamie.” Brad threw Jamie’s bag over his left shoulder, his own over his right, then grabbed her elbow, dragging her through the crowd of Japanese tourists still milling about the lobby, toward the revolving glass door. He tossed his parking ticket at the valet and began pacing restlessly back and forth in front of the entrance.

  “It’s okay, Brad. We’ll find another hotel.”

  “I’m not staying at any fucking Embassy Suites.”

  “There’s a million hotels in Atlanta. I’m sure we’ll find a nice one.”

  “Fucking credit card.”

  “These things happen, Brad. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. This is very embarrassing,” Brad said, shaking his head and running his hand through his tightly cropped hair. “Shit!”

  Jamie bit down on her lower lip to keep from offering further words of encouragement. Just let him stew, she thought. Let him get it all out of his system. Of course he was embarrassed. He wasn’t used to such things happening. In a few minutes, he’d calm down. Everything would be back to normal. “He called you Mr. Hastings,” she said, suddenly remembering.

  Brad stopped his angry pacing, spun around toward her. “What?”

  “The clerk. When he asked you to sign in. He called you Mr. Hastings.”

  “He did?”

  “I was about to correct him, but then he said the card had been declined, and well …”

  Brad shook his head. “Hastings is my middle name. Brad Hastings Fisher,” he elaborated. “Stupid clerk can’t even read. No wonder he screwed up.”

  Jamie smiled. Brad Hastings Fisher, she repeated silently as the valet pulled her blue Thunderbird into the long, circular driveway. Such a distinguished-sounding name. “Look, you’re tired. Why don’t you let me drive—”

  “Get in the car, Jamie,” Brad directed gently, climbing behind the wheel as the valet opened the passenger side of the car. “I’ll drive. You play tour guide.”

  “Now? But you’re exhausted.”

  “My adrenaline’s pumping like crazy. Maybe if we drive around the city for a bit, it’ll give me a chance to calm down.”

  Jamie thought of suggesting they continue on to Adairsville, then thought better of it. She had no interest in rehashing their previous argument. “You really want me to show you the sights?”

  “How about we just drive around Butthead for a while? You could show me where you used to live.”

  Jamie sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was drive around Buckhead. What she wanted was to climb into a nice hot bath and then inside a nice warm bed. Still, if all he needed was a few minutes to calm down … “Turn left,” she said as Brad pulled the car away from the curb. “Now right. Okay. Keep going to the next corner, then make another right. Follow it around the bend in the road.”

  “Wow, these homes are really something,” Brad remarked. “Talk about Gone With the Wind.”

  Jamie glanced at the parade of palatial estates surrounded by long, sweeping lawns and all but hidden behind high, wrought-iron gates. “It’s hard to see them in the dark. We really should wait until tomorrow.”

  “Nah, this is good enough. You actually lived in one of these castles?”

  “No. I lived in a small apartment about five blocks away. You can get to it if you turn right at the next light.”

  “Where’s your mother-in-law’s house?” Brad asked, ignoring her directions and continuing on straight ahead.

  Jamie felt every muscle in her body tighten. “My mother-in-law?”

  “Didn’t you say she lives in Butthead?”

  Jamie nodded. “About a mile from here.”

  “Show me.”

  “Brad—”

  “I’m just trying to get to know my girl better. Come on. Then we’ll find a motel, call it a night.”

  My girl, Jamie repeated silently, savoring the sound. She nodded, guiding him around the hilly twists and turns that made up the upscale suburb of Buckhead. It occurred to her that she could point to any house, say this is it, this is where I spent possibly the worst year of my life, but she sensed he would know if she was lying, and what was the point? Within minutes, they were on Magnolia Lane, the houses growing smaller, less majestic the farther away they got from Peachtree Drive, although still nice, still more than respectable. The real irony was that after she and Mark had divorced, Mark hadn’t moved back with his mother but rather found an apartment of his own. “That’s it. Number ninety-two. Right-hand side. Second from the end.”

  Brad pulled the car to a stop in front of the white wood house, the car’s headlights illuminating the large FOR SALE sign on the manicured front lawn. Two stately, concrete pillars stood on either side of the black front door.
The drapes in all the rooms were closed. The downstairs rooms were dark. There was a light on in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Mrs. Dennison’s room, Jamie realized, suppressing a shudder. “So the old witch has finally agreed to sell.”

  “What do you think?” Brad asked. “Should we knock on the door, make her an offer she can’t refuse?”

  Suddenly the curtains in the upstairs bedroom parted, and a lone figure appeared at the window, her magnified silhouette staring through the darkness toward the street. “Let’s get out of here,” Jamie whispered to Brad. “Brad, please,” she urged when he failed to move. “Before she recognizes my car.”

  “Can’t have that,” Brad agreed, making a quick U-turn and speeding down the quiet road.

  FIFTEEN

  “Jamie. Hey, Jamie, wake up.”

  “Hmm?” Jamie rolled over onto her back in bed, her eyes refusing to open. “What?”

  “Wake up, Jamie.”

  Jamie suddenly shot up in bed, as if she’d been doused by a glass of cold water, her heart racing wildly, a torrent of words rushing from her dry mouth. “What’s happened? What’s the matter? Is something wrong?” Had the boys from Tifton found them, broken into their room?

  Brad laughed quietly beside her, ran a reassuring hand across her bare back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. Take it easy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Jamie fought to bring the cheap motel room into focus, but it was dark and wouldn’t stop spinning. It was still night. She knew that much, because she could see the moon peeking through the crack in the heavy drapes, and the neon red numbers of the digital clock beside the uncomfortable double bed quickly confirmed it was only 3:02 in the morning. The middle of the night, for God’s sake. She gathered the flimsy, white sheet around her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and waited for Brad to explain what was going on. But he said nothing. He just sat there with this dopey grin on his handsome face and stared at her. “Brad, what’s the matter? Has something happened?”

  “Nothing’s happened.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “I don’t understand. Why did you wake me up?” Unless she’d been dreaming and only imagined his voice prodding her awake, and it was she, not he, who’d thrown the room into sudden chaos. He’d been sleeping soundly. It was her fault they were both awake at this ridiculous hour. “Was I having a bad dream?”

  “You looked to be sleeping very peacefully to me,” Brad said.

  So he had woken her up. Why? “I don’t understand. Why—”

  “I love you,” he said simply.

  Whatever vestiges of sleep had been clinging to her body suddenly vanished. Jamie was now fully, completely awake. “What?” she asked, although she’d heard him clearly the first time. “What?” she asked, hoping to hear it again.

  “Look, I know it’s happening awfully fast. You probably think I’m crazy.…”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I was just sitting here,” he continued, wiping her tears away with the tips of his fingers, “watching you sleep, and it came over me like a wave—I love this woman. I love her. I love you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. It was a kiss of almost unbearable gentleness, as if a butterfly had fluttered against her lips, then taken flight.

  “You woke me up to tell me you love me?”

  “I was afraid I’d lose my nerve if I waited till morning.”

  “You love me,” Jamie repeated, cupping the invisible words to her chest and holding them against her skin, feeling them creep into her pores, into her blood, then float toward her heart. It had been so long since anyone had said anything like that to her, so long since she’d felt loved. “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Why do you love me?” What’s there to love? she asked silently.

  “Why do I love you?” he repeated incredulously. “I don’t know. Why does anybody love anyone?”

  “What do you love about me?” Jamie asked, hoping that by rephrasing the question, it might encourage his response.

  “What do I love about you? Well, let me see.” He paused, as if giving the question serious consideration. “I love the way you look,” he began, teasing her now. “I love your eyes … your hair … your breasts.” His fingers traveled from her face to her shoulders, tracing a delicate path along her newly electrified flesh. “I love the way you throw your head back when you get excited, and I love the sound of your laugh. Kind of like wind chimes. And I love the way you kiss,” he said, kissing her again, this time harder. “And the way you moan when I touch the back of your neck in one particular spot. Right here,” he said, touching her there, and she moaned, as if on cue, then laughed softly.

  Wind chimes, she thought, listening for the sound.

  “But best of all, I love your sense of adventure, the way you’re not afraid to take chances, the way you go after what you want. I love your fearlessness, your willingness to try anything.”

  Jamie smiled. What her mother and sister had viewed as reckless and impulsive was fearless and adventurous in his eyes. “You inspire me,” she said.

  “It’s you who inspire me.” He kissed her again, longer this time, his tongue playing with her own. “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Mad at you?” She laughed. “Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

  “For waking you up. You were sleeping so soundly.”

  “Are you kidding? You can wake me up anytime to tell me things like that.”

  “You’re very beautiful when you sleep. So peaceful. So still.”

  Jamie snuggled in against him, laying her head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

  He shrugged. “My mind’s been racing around like crazy all night.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “Oh, just a little surprise I’ve been cooking up.”

  “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

  He pulled out of her arms, reached for his jeans. “Time to get dressed, Jamie-girl.”

  “What?”

  Brad jumped to his feet. “Come on, Jamie. Throw on some clothes and get that gorgeous ass in gear.” He pulled his jeans over his slender hips.

  “No, wait. Brad. Stop. What’s happening? What are you doing?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Can’t I see in the morning?” This was crazy. It was the middle of the night.

  He laughed. “It’s more fun in the dark.”

  “What is?”

  “Come on, Jamie. You really want to spoil the surprise?”

  Which was when it hit her—they were going to Barnsley Gardens. Somehow he’d made the arrangements, waiting until after she was asleep to make the necessary calls, and now he was standing in front of her, having just confessed his love, for God’s sake, barely able to stand still he was so excited, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, eager to get a move on, to get out of this crummy motel room and on their way. “Okay,” she agreed, swinging her feet out of bed.

  Brad let out a whoop of glee. “That’s my girl!”

  Jamie stepped into the bathroom, where she threw some cold water on her face and quickly ran a comb through her hair.

  “Leave that,” Brad urged, watching from the tiny hall. “You look great.”

  “I look like somebody woke me up in the middle of the night.” She didn’t want to scare the check-in people at Barnsley Gardens. How late did these people work anyway? For that matter, how had Brad cleared up the problem with his credit card so quickly? She was about to ask when she thought better of it. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise after all.

  “Come on, Jamie. You can brush your teeth later,” he said as she was reaching for her toothbrush.

  “I’m not going anywhere without brushing my teeth.” She brushed her teeth, then began packing her toiletries into their small leather case.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Getting ready to go
.”

  “You can do that stuff in the morning.”

  “What do you mean? I thought we were leaving.”

  “We’re trying,” he said, tossing the clothes she’d been wearing all day in her direction. Jamie caught them before they hit the floor.

  “We’re coming back here?”

  “Of course we’re coming back. Gotta get some sleep.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you trust me?” Brad asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his words.

  “Of course I trust you.”

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  Jamie pulled some fresh underwear out of her overnight bag, then got dressed. Brad had the motel door open before she’d finished tying her sneakers. The damp night air rushed inside, as if trying to hustle her out. So they weren’t going to Barnsley Gardens after all, she was thinking, trying not to be disappointed as she followed him to the car. Hadn’t he just told her he loved her? And didn’t he love her, at least in part, because of her adventurous spirit, her fearlessness, her willingness to try anything?

  Did she really want to risk letting him down?

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” she repeated as they climbed into the car.

  Minutes later, they were on the road again, although where they were going Jamie had no idea. They seemed to be driving around in circles. Ten minutes later, they were still driving, and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. She thought of asking if she could be of help, but the determined look on Brad’s face—even in profile, even in the dark—told her to let things be. Obviously he had a plan. Another surprise in a night full of surprises. Might as well relax, she told herself, closing her eyes and listening to the voices on the all-night talk-radio station.

  I don’t know what to do about her, man. She’s sexy as hell, but she’s been lying and cheating on me for months.

  The way I see it, Buddy, you have two choices. You can stay and continue to be lied to and mistreated, or you can be a man and leave her.

  But I love her, man.

  Hey, Buddy. Ever hear the expression pussy-whipped?

  Jamie opened her eyes as the car swerved suddenly to the right. Where were they?