by KG MacGregor
And if all that wasn’t enough, there was the fact that Amber, though she’d hinted at the possibility of being a lesbian herself, was likely just an opportunist, seeking shelter wherever she found it. In other words, she was Syd all over again.
Joy shuddered and drew the sheet up over her head, wishing her eyes had a backspace button. If she could just survive one more night of sharing close quarters, at least she’d get her privacy back…and with it, a chance to release her sexual frustrations.
Chapter Six
“I’m thinking of a person,” Amber said.
Joy groaned. “Not again. I don’t know any of those country music people. Tug This, Yank That.”
“Who said it was a country music person?”
“Is it?”
Amber smirked. “Yes.”
Joy beeped the horn twice. “Welcome to Utah.”
The Rocky Mountains had faded behind them, giving way to a rolling brown landscape, a featureless mix of dirt, rock and dry grass. Too much like Limon for Amber’s taste.
“I just can’t imagine what kind of people live in a place like this,” she said, answering her own query with the realization that there wasn’t a dwelling in sight. “By the way, I haven’t thanked you today for not leaving me at the Gateway Lodge. I don’t think I ever felt so hopeless in my whole life.”
“Yeah, I sort of figured that when you wouldn’t get out of the truck.”
“You think they allow smoking in Utah? I could do with a cigarette, and Skippy could probably do with a bush…if they had any.”
Joy flipped on her blinker and exited at the Welcome Center. “Pop’s going to start harassing you the minute he gets his first whiff of cigarette smoke on your clothes. Sure you wouldn’t rather be smoke-free when you get there? You said you had to quit anyway.”
“I’ve been harassed by the best of them. I figure I can wait until he rags on me, and then he’ll get to take credit for it when I quit.” She lit a cigarette the second she hopped out of the truck. “Besides, I still have cigarettes. A smoker can’t quit until they’re all gone.”
“I can fix that,” Joy said, suddenly snatching the pack from her hand.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
Skippy growled menacingly at Joy.
“Sic her, boy.”
Joy handed them back. “Here, keep your stinky old cancer sticks. And call off your attack dog.” She took the leash and led Skippy to the pet walk area.
“Everybody has vices,” Amber called loudly before shuffling to catch up.
“Not me. I like a cold beer every now and then, but that’s about it.”
“I bet your ex-girlfriend could come up with a better list than that.” Amber had spent much of the morning wondering what sort of girlfriend Joy had been. “Did you starch her underwear? Kick her tires every time she went somewhere?”
“Very funny. She was navy too so I didn’t have to deal with her sloppy habits. You may not know this—of course you don’t—but responsible people clean up after themselves.”
“God, I bet a crumb never hit the floor in your house.”
Amber enjoyed the effect of her teasing on Joy, who played along as if she were indulging a naughty child. It was tempting to terrorize her with more trashy stories about her sexual adventures just for the shock value, but it bothered her a little to think Joy might not have been exaggerating her disgust over the idea that she’d freely slept with both Corey and Rachelle. If she had it to do over again, she’d have kept the details to herself, but thinking before speaking had never been one of her strong suits. She couldn’t count the times her mouth had gotten her in trouble.
* * *
Joy leaned against the hood of her truck and smiled at the look of childlike amazement on Amber’s face. The Great Salt Lake, with its white streaks, sandbars and distant peaks, stretched out for miles before them.
“Man, I wish my phone worked. I’d take a picture of this.”
“Mine does,” Joy answered, snapping a shot of the lake with Amber in the foreground.
Amber took one last look over her shoulder and climbed back into the truck. “Thanks. Save it for me, will you? Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to get phone service again and you can send that to me.”
“With you taking care of Pop, I definitely want you to have a phone. That’s one of the details we have to work out.”
Joy had spent an hour the night before researching guidelines for live-in health care workers, which she’d found to be a lot more complicated than she’d first thought. Now that she’d offered the job to Amber, it seemed silly to bother with a background check, something most of the websites advised. But there was still the matter of filling out all the appropriate tax forms and negotiating an appropriate salary and work schedule.
“I talked with Pop again last night. He’s ready to bust out of rehab, so we want to make sure everything’s set for him to come home day after tomorrow.”
“Whatever you need, just tell me.”
Amber’s eyes glazed over as Joy went through the ins and outs of which services her father needed and who paid for what. The bottom line was in-home assistance wasn’t covered, so they’d have to pay out of pocket.
“What would you say to room and board, and five hundred bucks a week for the next three months? We’d have to hold back some for taxes, but you wouldn’t have any expenses of your own…especially since you’re going to quit smoking.”
Her offer was met with silence, not altogether surprising, since the salary was on the low end of what was recommended. Joy had thought that reasonable since her father didn’t require a lot of personal care, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“What do you think?”
Amber managed to shake her head and nod at the same time, a gesture that Joy took to mean she’d probably have to start negotiating.
“It’s good…in fact, it’s more than I’ve ever made in my life. I’ve got some friends that do this home health care kind of stuff and they don’t make that much, so…great.”
No doubt Amber’s friends worked hourly jobs with agencies that provided benefits and bonding, along with administrative support. Joy hoped this twelve-week gig would help Amber on a path to stable employment. All that depended, of course, on her doing a good job.
“You know, there are a lot of jobs out there for people who do this kind of work. Most of the people I talked to at the agencies said all their techs were certified, so maybe you could look into getting a certificate. If they have classes at night or on the weekends, you can sign up right away. I can sit with Pop while you’re gone.”
“That would be cool, and then—” She huffed and shook her head. “Except how would I get there? I don’t have a car, and you don’t trust me to drive this one, even with you sitting beside me.”
“That’s because you’ve never driven anything this heavy. It’s dangerous if you don’t know how to handle it. But you’d be able to drive Pop’s car.”
“Your father has a car?”
“I told you. He can do practically everything but walk. That’s why he’s going crazy at the rehab center, because he’s used to taking care of himself.”
“Yeah, well he better get used to being taken care of at home. I’m going to cook. I’ll clean. I’ll do all his laundry…on second thought, maybe he ought to handle the laundry.”
It was good to hear Amber laugh, and especially to hear the eagerness in her voice when she talked about going to work. In the long run, this would probably turn out to be not only the best-paying job she’d ever had, but also the easiest. And if it started her down the road toward gainful long-term employment, so much the better. Getting dumped at a truck stop in Louisville, Kentucky, might end up being the luckiest break she ever had.
* * *
After a dismal start, Utah had turned out to be the most interesting state so far. The drab rolling hills had become winding canyons leading into Salt Lake City, and the blinding salt flats had given way
to a deep red sunset over rugged westward peaks. Seven states in three days, with only Nevada and California left.
Amber waited in the truck with Skippy while Joy checked in at the campground office. “One more day, boy. Then we’ve got to go to work.”
Though she’d tried to appear confident about taking care of Joy’s father, she wasn’t all that sure she could pull it off. It had always been a point of personal pride that she didn’t take shit from anybody. Anytime one of her bosses gave her attitude, she usually gave it right back and then some. But that was when she still had a roof over her head in case she got fired.
From the way Joy talked about her father, he might well be a flaming asshole, and she had no choice but to suck it up. Even more than that, she was worried about screwing up and getting fired again, only this time, she’d be two thousand miles from everyone she knew.
Joy returned to the truck and placed a permit on the dashboard. “Anywhere on Row Three, he said.”
They crept slowly down the pavement through a canyon of campers and motorhomes, all parked diagonally and separated by a picnic table, outdoor grill and trash can.
“There’s a spot,” Amber said.
No sooner had the words left her lips than the door opened at the adjacent motorhome. One man practically fell outside laughing at another who appeared shirtless behind them, flipping him off and screaming that he was a motherfucker. Each man held a beer can, and several more were stacked in a pyramid on the picnic table.
“On second thought…”
Joy parked at the end of the row and, after hooking up the water and electricity, went to work preparing dinner, which was pasta shells with peas, tomatoes and tuna.
“This is really good,” Amber said. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“This isn’t cooking. This is called making dinner. I’m sure people who actually cook understand the difference.”
“Maybe to you, but this would be gourmet at my house.”
Joy set the pasta box on the table and turned it toward her. “Nearly everything I make has the recipe on the side of the box, or the bag or the can. If I want something more complicated than that, I go out to eat.”
Amber slipped a forkful of tuna to Skippy, who had been watching every bite with anticipation. “I thought for sure you were going to tell me they taught you to cook in the navy. They taught you everything else.”
“One of the girls I went to boot camp with studied cooking…culinary specialist, she was called. Guess what she’s doing now.”
“Wearing a poncho at Taco Loco?”
Joy chuckled. “She’s working in the kitchen at the White House.”
“Now there’s a job I’d like.”
“She had to work her way up to that, including about six years cooking below decks on an aircraft carrier.”
“Screw that. You and your crazy boats.”
“Ships.”
“That’s what I said.” Amber collected their dishes and twisted in her seat to set them in the sink. “I’ll clean up if you want to get a shower.”
“Good deal. We probably should turn in early. Ten hours on the road tomorrow gets us home.”
By the time Amber got the dishes washed, dried and stowed where they wouldn’t bounce around, Joy was back.
“You might want to skip over to Row Four to walk to the bathhouse. Those two guys we saw on the way in are smashed, and they’re getting into it with the old couple next to them. I won’t be surprised if the cops show up soon.”
“Wonder why the owner doesn’t just kick them out?”
“He should but someone that drunk doesn’t need to be driving out of here, especially in a vehicle as big as a motorhome.”
“Good point.”
Joy and her father were technically her bosses now, and she needed to get used to taking their orders. Still, she couldn’t resist checking out the raucous excitement and she walked down the row hoping to hear the fight between the two drunks and their neighbors. Whatever had gotten stirred up was over. The campground was relatively quiet and most campers seemed to be turning in. Two others were leaving the bathhouse, an older woman and a toddler who might have been her granddaughter.
Amber took her time, savoring the steam of the shower as she shaved her legs and conditioned her thick, curly hair. Just because she didn’t iron her tank tops didn’t mean she couldn’t make herself presentable. A good first impression on the old guy would probably make her job a lot easier.
It was almost eleven when she finally exited the bathhouse, her dirty clothes rolled up inside her wet towel, and she felt bad for taking so long. Joy was probably waiting up, since she’d never go to sleep without locking the camper door.
“Look what we got here, Jerry.” The shirtless drunk was right outside the door taking a leak against the side of the bathhouse. “This one’s not as ugly as all the others around here.”
“Not as fat, either,” Jerry said as he stepped around the corner into view.
After seven years of hanging out with bands, Amber had been around her share of drunks, enough that she could tell which ones were simply hopeless, and which ones were trouble. The fact that these guys had already tangled with the neighbors suggested they were in the latter group, and she decided to ignore them.
“Come have a beer with us. We’ve got some hooch too. You like hooch?”
Jerry sidestepped until he was blocking her path. “I bet she likes hooch, Ray.”
“No thanks, guys. Time to go to bed…sleep it off.”
“I’ve got a nice big bed back at my place,” Ray said, slipping his arm around Amber’s waist, and his fingers inside the back of her waistband. “You’d like my bed. I’d make sure of that.”
As she whirled out of his reach, Jerry caught her and slapped a hand over her mouth from behind. She responded with several backward kicks to his shins, ineffective with only rubber flip-flops. His massive arm pinned both of her elbows to her sides while Ray wrapped her legs in a bear hug. Together, they carried her past two motorhomes to theirs.
Amber kicked violently as Ray loosened his grip to open the door, and she saw his head snap back as her heel landed a lucky blow against his jaw.
“You bitch!” With blood spurting from his split lip, he drew back his fist.
“Let her go.” Joy’s trembling voice rang out from behind them, followed by a metallic click.
Ray, his eyes wide with fear, wiped his bloody chin. “Jerry, she’s pointing a gun right at your head.”
Jerry released Amber’s arms immediately, causing her to fall on her backside with a thud. Then he lunged toward Joy, swinging an elbow hard into her chest.
The blow caused her to stagger backward and she momentarily lost her grip on the gun.
Lucky for them, Jerry was too drunk to take advantage of the opening. The sideways lurch made him lose his balance and tumble over the bench of the picnic table.
From her sitting position, Amber kicked again at Ray, this time catching his kneecap squarely so that he howled in pain.
Joy recovered and swung the pistol from one man to the other. “Amber, get back to the truck.”
“Fucking dyke,” Jerry muttered, still crumpled on the ground.
Amber followed Joy back to their camper, checking over her shoulder to be sure the two drunks weren’t in pursuit. “That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fucking life. You were fucking amazing!”
“Pack up. We’re getting out of here.”
“Why? You had those guys pissing in their pants. They know better than to mess with us now.”
“Are you insane? I nearly got both of us killed. If that guy hadn’t been so drunk, I would have been sitting on the wrong end of my own gun.”
Amber secured the loose items inside the camper while Joy unhooked the water and power. In less than five minutes they were pulling out the front gate and back onto Interstate 80.
“I didn’t even know you had a gun. Where do you keep it?”
“Loc
ked up. That’s the first time in my life I’ve ever pointed it at a real person.” Joy’s voice still shook, and her hands fidgeted all about the steering wheel. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Not only did you do it, you were fucking amazing. Believe me, if I had one of those, no one would ever fuck with me again.”
“Do you have to say fuck all the time?”
Amber was startled by the sharpness of her voice. Clearly, Joy was shaken by the experience. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
Her first answer was a deep sigh and a trembling hand through her hair. “I’m just freaked out because of what could have happened if I hadn’t come looking for you. You could have been…”
Amber finished the sentence in her head. She would have been raped. Even though both men had been stinking drunk, she’d been totally defenseless when they picked her up and carried her to their camper. And who knows what they might have done afterward to cover their crime?
But they hadn’t, and she had more than enough bad memories that were real without torturing herself over something that hadn’t happened.
A sign on the otherwise barren road said Elko, Nevada, was ninety-eight miles away, and Joy methodically located three different campgrounds on her navigation system. Though it was nearly midnight, Amber was too hyper to worry about dozing off, and from the nervous way Joy’s fingers kept tapping the steering wheel, she too was wired. They’d probably get a later start than usual tomorrow, but at least they’d be a couple of hours closer to Oakland.
She studied Joy in the bluish glow from the dashboard. To the list of traits she’d already compiled to describe her—responsible, orderly, independent, capable—she’d add brave. And no matter what she’d said about nearly getting both of them killed, Amber still thought she was fucking awesome.