Bad Beat

by Carolina Mac

  “I can’t. I’ll call and find out when the ashes will be ready.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “Go back to sleep.” He stroked my hair the way Jackson used to.

  I dozed off for a while and when I woke he was propped up on the bed beside me humming to himself and writing in his little red notebook.

  “Are you writing a new song?” I asked as I sat on the side of the bed.

  He nodded. “Just getting the words down before I forget.”

  Not wanting to disturb him, I dragged my useless body out to the kitchen and pressed the button on the coffee maker. I was headed for the shower when the doorbell rang. I turned towards the door, but Billy passed me on the run and got there first.

  He frowned as he closed the door, holding a brown envelope. At first, he looked like he wasn’t going to tell me who was at the door, but then he cursed and walked past me. “Wedding pictures. I’ll put them in my room for now. We can’t look at them today.”

  “Never. That’s when I’ll look at them.”

  After my shower, I dressed in my leathers with a black tank underneath. All I could think of was Jackson being cremated. Jackson, my big, loving protector who had been so alive just a few days ago. Jackson, my husband who never even made it home from our wedding.

  I tied a red bandana around my head, poured myself a black coffee and sat at the counter.

  A while later, Billy ambled down the hall in a pair of faded jeans with his hair hanging wet from the shower and raised a brow. “Hey, you look like you’re ready to ride.”

  “I can’t sit around the house crying all day. I’ll go crazy. I have to get out. A ride through the canyon seems like a better way to pay tribute to Jackson than crying on his pillow. He loved the canyon. Maybe we’ll tour all of Nevada if we feel like it—are you in?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Nothin clears the shit outa your head like hitting the road. His turquoise eyes reflected sadness as he turned on his heel. “I better get dressed before you leave without me.”

  Billy dressed in his leathers and started the bikes while I finished my second coffee and brought Angel in from the yard. The early November temperature hovered in the low seventies and the glowing desert sun over Vegas was high in the sky. We rode like the wind through the canyon. There was no traffic, the highway deserted except for the odd snake trying to cross. It felt good to be out on the bikes. Jackson would have approved.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Billy and I were sitting at the breakfast bar eating the eggs and toast he had made, when my phone rang.

  “Mrs. Traynor, this is Dan Webster at the funeral home. Mr. Traynor’s ashes are ready to be picked up.”

  My stomach churned. “Thank you, I’ll be there sometime today.”

  Billy glanced up from his coffee and frowned.

  “The ashes are ready to be picked up.” I ran to the bathroom and hurled my breakfast.

  When my stomach stopped twisting, I grabbed a damp facecloth, wiped my face and staggered into the bedroom. I was still lying on the bed sobbing when Billy came in and sat on the side of the bed.

  He stroked my hair. “I’ll go, Portia. You stay here. I can handle it.”

  I nodded. “You’ll need money. Grab the checkbook for my US account out of my purse and I’ll sign one. You can fill it in when you get there.”

  “How much is it supposed to be?”

  “Good question. I was dumb not to ask Mr. Webster.”

  “You weren’t dumb, you were upset,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Angel and I walked Billy out to the garage and watched him take off in the Hummer. While he was gone, I started planning the trip to the Grand Canyon. I retrieved some of the brochures that Jackson and I had picked up when we stopped there on our way to Vegas. God, how had things gone so wrong, so fast?

  The second hotel I called had a vacancy for the following night and they allowed pets for an extra charge. I booked it. Trying to think of the perfect place to scatter Jackson’s ashes brought on another round of tears. Thankful I had the house to myself for a while, I sank to the floor and wailed.

  Billy returned from Webster and Webster a short time later, bearing bags of junk food as well as a sleek, black urn. “I picked up some lunch, Portia.”

  I stepped closer to help unpack the bags and forced a smile. “I started planning our trip to the Grand Canyon. I booked us into a hotel at the south rim for tomorrow night.

  “Will we take the bikes?”

  I shook my head. “I wanted to, but we couldn’t unless we did the whole trip in one day. We have to take Angel and sleep over, there’s no other choice.”

  “I’m down with that. I’m pumped to see the Canyon. Jackson talked about that mother all the fuckin time.”

  “He did. That’s why we have to do this for him.” My eyes welled up and Billy held me in his arms.

  “This is going to be a hard couple of days for both of us, Portia.”

  I nodded and looked up into Billy’s sad eyes. “For both of us. But it’s what we need to do. It’s what Jackson always wanted.” I stepped back and continued to sort out the groceries. “Should we take the Hummer or the Ram?”

  Billy shrugged. “They’re both fuckers on fuel. There’s more luggage space in the Hummer and Angel likes the Hummer better. She always runs to it first when we go into the garage.”

  “Angel picks the vehicle?” I raised my eyebrows at Billy.

  “Pretty much.” He nodded.

  We packed our stuff and planned to leave at seven in the morning. After supper, Billy Googled everything about the Canyon on the iPad, and he prattled on non-stop. “There’s a shit load of stuff to see there,” he said. “Do you want to keep it simple or do it up?”

  I swallowed, remembering how pumped Jackson was about taking this trip. “We do it all…everything Jackson would have liked, we do.”

  “He’d want to see those fuckin’ bears.”

  “What bears?”

  “The ones at the bear ranch.” Billy’s eyes sparkled like blue topaz when he was excited.

  “I want to go back to Grand Canyon Harley. They had a lot of good stuff there, and the boys were so nice helping Jackson with the trailer.”

  “Cool. I want to go there too.”

  With all the groceries put away and our lunch on our plates, I slumped into my chair at the table and stared at the black urn. “I wish he was coming on the trip…and not like this.”

  Billy picked up his guitar from the corner and started singing an Elvis song that was one of my favorites, ‘One Night with You.’ He sang the entire song to me and it brought tears to my eyes. When he sang, I could feel him right in my heart. “You’re so good, Billy. We should get you a demo record when you have enough songs. I’ll sponsor you.”

  “Would you do that?” he asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “It might cost a lot and then maybe no record company wants me or my songs, and it's all money down the drain.”

  “I want you to try.” I picked up Jackson’s urn and headed for the bedroom. “Get some sleep. We have to get up at six.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  SIX A.M. CAME too soon for my liking. I’d been up all night thinking about Jackson and how this was the farthest thing from the trip we’d planned together. Sleepily, I sat on the side of the bed working up enough energy to take a shower. Can I pull myself out of this pit?

  Billy knocked, then strutted through the door all dressed, with a coffee in his hand for me.

  I blinked, trying to wake up. “Holy hell, what got into you this morning?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. It will be good for us to have some time away from here. The house is full of sadness—I can feel it.”

  “You heard from Rusty?” I asked, not willing to dwell on another helping of sadness first thing in the morning. “What kind of trauma is the club going through?”

  Billy’s face changed dramatically and I caught my breath. “What is it?”
>
  “The club wants to have a ride for Jackson and they want some of the ashes.”

  What was I thinking? Of course, they do. Why didn’t Rusty call me?

  I looked at the urn sitting on the bedside table and swallowed. “Put some into a container for the club before we go. Do it while I’m in the bathroom, okay?”

  Billy nodded.

  After my shower, I packed my toiletries bag, sprayed on Light Blue and threw on jeans and a sweatshirt. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed to the kitchen. Angel sat like a statue on her blanket with her leash on. “You look ready, girl,” I kissed her head and she wagged her butt.

  Billy had travel mugs of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter beside fried egg sandwiches wrapped in foil. I knew they were fried egg because he couldn’t make anything else. There was no sign of Jackson’s urn or the ashes Billy had removed.

  I grabbed Angel’s leash and my purse, while Billy picked up the bags. We locked up the house and we were off. He had already loaded Angel’s food, extra water, and the ashes. The GPS lady started talking as soon as we backed out the driveway.

  “Is she going to talk to you the whole way?”

  “She likes me.”

  “She has good taste.” What I would have done without Billy, I couldn’t imagine.

  “Can you unwrap my sandwich? I’m starving.”

  “You say those two words more than any other.”

  “What words?” he asked.

  “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” he said laughing. “I should have made more sandwiches.”

  I laughed out loud. That was one thing Billy was good at, making me laugh. Lightening the mood. I shoved in a Springsteen CD and cranked it up.

  “You a Springsteen fan?”

  “Die hard,” I said. “Can you sing any of his songs? He’s one of the best songwriters around, in my opinion.”

  “I know a couple of his songs.”

  The GPS babe came on and told Billy to head south down highway ninety-three.

  “Your girlfriend is talking to you.” I poked him in the ribs.

  “I hear you, girlfriend, and I’m turning south,” he said with a grin.

  We were too early for the visitor’s center when we reached Hoover Dam.

  “Let’s take the tour on the way back,” I said, “I haven’t seen it either. When Jackson and I were here on the way to Vegas, it was after six and it was closed.”

  “Roger that,” Billy said.

  For the next hour and a half, we drove through the eastern end of the Mojave where the vegetation was sparse. As the day wore on the November sun worked its way higher into the sky and heated up the pavement. We stopped in Kingman for more breakfast for Billy and a break for Angel. Billy gassed up the Hummer and bought cold Cokes and several bottles of water.

  Two hours later we arrived in Williams, Arizona, listening to Billy’s girlfriend guiding him north on highway sixty-four.

  “We should get some lunch here and gas up again. There’s not much available on the road up to the Canyon until you’re almost there,” I said.

  We grabbed a burger and a drink from a roadside diner and walked Angel when we finished eating. I lay my head back and closed my eyes as Billy drove.

  “Shitwads,” he hollered. “There it is, Bearizona,” He veered off the road.

  “What will we do with Angel?” I asked.

  “We can all stay in the truck and drive through. She might bark, but she’ll love it.”

  We paid our money at the gate and began our journey through pretend bear country. Billy was pumped. He grew up in a broken home like Jackson, and neither one of them had ever done the vacation things that average families do together. Jackson would have gotten a real kick out of Billy’s excitement. “There’s one over there.” He pointed to a bear under a tree. “See him?”

  Angel barked through the whole tour, seeing huge shaggy bison and lumbering bears at every turn of her head. Between Angel barking and Billy yelling out the window at the bears, I definitely needed Advil. The circuit of the park took about an hour and the path brought us back to the highway. Billy steered the Hummer through the exit gate.

  “Fuck, that was the best ever.”

  “The best.” I swallowed two Advil with a gulp of water.

  AN HOUR LATER we found our hotel and checked in with the dog. Our room at the Grand was simple enough—gold and rust décor with two Queen sized beds and comfy chairs. Billy unloaded the Hummer and brought our gear up to the room. Angel lay down on her blanket with a grunt and plopped her large head between her front paws.

  “Long trip, girl?” Billy asked her. He filled up her bowls and set them in the bathroom.

  I flopped down on one of the beds and blew out a big breath. Billy lay down beside me on his stomach and looked up into my face with those sparkling aqua eyes. “What’s the plan?”

  “I haven’t come up with one yet,” I said. “We should have grabbed a handful of brochures in the lobby. That might have triggered something.”

  “I’ll go get some,” he said.

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll go with you. I need a beer.” I went to the bathroom to survey the damage. “Holy hell,” I hollered, “I look like shit.”

  “Impossible.” Billy was leaning on the doorframe watching me and scowling, “You could never look bad. Even when you do look like shit, you’re beautiful.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

  Downstairs, we scooped handfuls of brochures out of the rack in the lobby and took them into the bar. We spread them out on the table and ordered beer from the cowboy bartender.

  “I like it here,” said Billy. “I’ve never stayed in a hotel before.”

  Billy has never been anywhere or done anything.

  “This place is done up like an old lodge. It’s rustic.”

  “Fuck, yeah, rustic.” He gawked around and stared at the huge timbers overhead.

  I grinned. He was such a goof, but a lovable one. The cowboy brought the beer and Billy chatted him up. He could talk to anybody and everybody liked him.

  “What about this one?” I asked taking a big swig of my beer. “Bright Angel Trail goes down to the Colorado River. Says it’s a tough hike, but we’re tough.”

  Billy read the description of the hike. “It’s a long way down. It will take a few hours, but yeah, I think we can do it.”

  “I’m going to the desk to extend our reservation. We’ll need most of tomorrow to do the hike—down and then back to the top. We won’t feel like driving home when we finish.” When I came back to our table, Billy had ordered more beer. “We’re good until Monday morning,” I said. “After this round, we need to find an outfitter and buy backpacks, and stuff.”

  Billy nodded as he looked through the pile of attractions. “I want to try white water rafting,” he said. “Looks like fun.”

  “Next time Rusty comes to Vegas, we’ll drive down and try it,” I said, dreading the thought of falling in that wild water and drowning. I had never learned to swim.

  “Hell, yeah. He would love it. He’s like, you know… one of those daredevils. He does skydiving and extreme sports.

  “He does?” I didn’t know much about George’s boys outside of the club. “Let’s go visit some of the shops in the Village, pick up what we need, then come back here for a late dinner and an early night.”

  After a quick shower, I threw on fresh clothes and was ready to shop. Billy was sprawled bare-chested on his bed sleeping like the dead. He’d been burning the candle at both ends since Jackson’s death. He worked hard at taking care of me, but I knew how much he missed Jackson himself. Taking pity on him, I clipped Angel’s collar onto her leash and tip-toed out of the room.

  Down in the village, I bought backpacks for Billy and me, large water bottles, power bars and assorted snacks for the trail. I left the gear in the Hummer, walked the dog and returned to the room.

  Billy was propped up on the bed watching a lumberjack challenge. Big guys in pl
aid shirts were throwing axes at targets. “Sorry I fell asleep on you, Portia. I feel dumb.”

  I sat on the bed beside him. “Don’t be sorry. You were tired and you needed to sleep. I still love you.” I kissed him on the cheek and rumpled his hair.

  “You love me? You never said that before.”

  “Of course, I love you. Who in their right mind wouldn’t?” I smiled at him. “You’re exhausted. That was a long drive, and the bears and all. A thought just popped into my head. Why don’t we order dinner from room service and just bum around in our room?”

  “Can you do that? They bring the shit up to your room?”

  “Let’s hope it isn’t shit, but yes they do. There should be a room service menu around here someplace.” I rifled through the pile of hotel literature on the corner table and came up with the menu. “What do you feel like eating, sweet boy? What strikes your fancy?”

  “Whatever you want, Portia. I’m good with whatever.”

  “Okay, here goes.” I picked up the phone and pressed the button.

  “Room four-ten. Half a dozen Coors Light, two orders of prime rib, medium rare with baked potatoes and sides of fried onions. Two Caesar salads and two pieces of lemon pie. A large carafe of coffee and lots of cream. Yep. That’s it.”

  Billy stared across the room at me. “That sounded like a lot of food.”

  “You’re a big eater,” I said. “And you need your energy for tomorrow.”

  Half an hour later, room service wheeled a cart into our room. I tipped the waiter, uncapped a couple of the beers and toasted Billy. “To your first room service order.”

  “I feel like a fuckin’ king or something.”

  The prime rib was tender and the beer was cold. I was too full for my pie, so Billy helped me out and ate both pieces. He poured himself a coffee and slumped in the overstuffed chair by the window.

  “Am I ever full,” he said. “That was so fuckin good, I can’t believe it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  AT FIVE-THIRTY THE phone rang beside my head and I started, fumbled for the receiver and acknowledged the wake-up call. In the darkness, I listened for Billy’s breathing in the other bed and then heard the shower running.