by Jove Belle
“I know a guy. I could have him stop by.”
As they talked, Sam lathered her body, rinsed the shampoo and body soap away at the same time, and then applied conditioner. “What’s his name?”
“Alan. He’s a general contractor, so it would be a one-stop shop kind of deal. He can take care of everything.”
“That’d be great. I’ll be there all day.”
“Okay. I’ll call him.”
Sam rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and turned off the water. Karen handed her a fluffy brown towel as she stepped out of the shower, and Sam wrapped it around herself.
“Before you go, we should talk.” Karen gestured between the two of them. “About us.”
Sam paused. Last night, she’d been sure they were in the same place. She thought of this encounter with Karen as a lark. A really fun lark that included a whole bunch of awesome orgasms, but a lark nonetheless. She didn’t think they were suddenly going to exchange Letterman jackets and move in together. Looking at Karen now, however, she wondered if she’d misread the situation.
“What do you mean?” It wasn’t really a fair question, but she wasn’t sure how to head off the conversation before it went where she thought it was going.
Karen took her hand. She looked away then back again. “Sam, you know I love you, but...”
Sam laughed with relief. Thank God. Karen was worried about hurting her feelings, not harboring a secret obsession. “Jesus, you scared me. I thought you were going to say that you want a relationship.”
“I do.”
“Huh?” Shit, note to self, no laughing out loud until she was absolutely certain about what Karen was saying from now on.
“As my friend. I don’t want that to change.” Karen twisted their fingers together, massaging Sam’s with her own.
She let out a breath. “Oh, Karen. I don’t want anything to change, either. Last night was fun. A lot of fun. But I’m not insane. I’m not in love with you any more than you’re in love with me. No amount of naked skin time is going to change that.”
Karen pulled her into a hug and squeezed hard enough to make her gasp for breath. “Thank God. I should have been more clear last night, but you just looked so good yesterday with your hair falling down and those ridiculous yellow cleaning gloves. I had no idea I have a thing for housewives, but apparently I do.”
“Ha! Or the cleaning lady.” Sam had looked like crap yesterday and Karen thought that was hot, which didn’t make any sense. Over the years, Karen had seen her looking really, really good. She’d managed one of the major hotel and casino properties on the strip, and that came with a high expectation about appearance. Karen hadn’t looked twice when Sam had been dressed and made up as if she’d stepped out of a magazine photo shoot. Yet the first time Karen saw her looking as if she’d spent the day up to her elbows in grime, she couldn’t control herself. It was beyond ridiculous. “You know you’re crazy, right?”
Karen shrugged. “I don’t care. I won’t apologize for what I think is sexy.”
Relieved that their relationship wasn’t somehow damaged by their spontaneity the night before, Sam hugged Karen one more time and left the bathroom. She needed to get dressed, and that had been a really strange conversation to have over a toilet.
“You shouldn’t apologize,” Sam said as she pulled a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt from her suitcase. “Frankly, I should thank you. I don’t even want to think about how long it had been. Last night was awesome.”
“A long time, huh?” Karen helped her fasten her bra, then smoothed her T-shirt into place. “How long?” She pulled Sam close, this embrace completely different than the relieved hug they’d shared earlier. She ran her hands over Sam’s back, and Sam closed her eyes briefly and let herself enjoy Karen’s touch.
“Not telling you. But I will say I’m not opposed to a repeat.”
“Yeah?” Karen looked like a teenage boy who’d just gotten his first glimpse of naked boob and then been promised he could touch, too.
“Yeah. But not right now.” Sam stepped out of Karen’s arms and finished dressing. This situation had the potential to be disastrous, but it had worked out and she was really happy with the outcome. She got to keep her friend and still have an occasional orgasm. That was a win-win.
When they finally emerged from the bedroom, Beth rolled her eyes and handed Sam a coffee in a to-go cup. “Finally.”
As they were leaving, Karen reminded her about her contractor friend. “I’ll see if he can come by today.”
“Sure.” Sam saluted her with her coffee cup and headed toward her car. She was tired of living out of her suitcase, but at least this morning’s wake-up call had been pretty damn nice.
But now it was time to go paint a wall.
∞
“Lin—” Olly tried to interject, but as always, Linda cut her off. She massaged her temples and nodded along with the phone, trying to judge her mom’s rhythm. She didn’t want to miss her turn to jump back in. Rampart rested his head on her thigh and looked up at her. She stroked his fur. At least he was on her side.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t come, Olivia. The whole family will be there. It’s a celebration.” Her mom spoke with an ever-present performer’s lilt. She lived, breathed, and survived based on her ability to convince people of her sincerity. Or perhaps Linda’s success had more to do with the hypnotic lull induced by the rhythm and cadence of her voice rather than actual trust. Regardless, Olly was immune to it.
“I don’t want to reunite with two hundred of my relatives. I don’t even know any of them.” The thought of taking part in her mother’s family reunion made her skin crawl.
Linda made a noise of disapproval. “Your heart knows them. They are family. Not to mention, your sister misses you.”
She sighed. “No, she doesn’t. I talked with her last week. She’s fine.”
In truth, Gen had begged Olly to come visit, but Linda probably didn’t know that.
“Okay, fine. I miss you.”
Olly didn’t respond. This was why she rarely called her mom. Navigating a clear path through a militarized minefield would be easier than navigating all the traps in a conversation with Linda Jones.
“Don’t pout, Olivia. It’s not becoming.”
“Linda, I’m not coming. Period.”
“Fine. But you’ll have to come home someday. You can’t stay away forever.”
“Watch me,” Olly said under her breath.
Linda inhaled sharply, but remained silent. After a long, drawn out silence, Olly finally gave in. “Mom? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, darling.” Her mom drew in a deep breath. “Tell me where you are now. I haven’t gotten one of your charming little postcards in a few weeks, so I’ve no idea where to place you on the map.”
“Northern Idaho.” She didn’t offer details because the only thing Linda cared about was that Olly wasn’t where she wanted her.
“Idaho? What could you possibly be doing in Idaho, northern or otherwise?” Linda added just a little bit of judgment to her tone, and Olly almost laughed. One of the constant lessons of Olly’s childhood—and there were always lessons—was to never make assumptions or underestimate the value of a place without first investigating.
“Not much.” Olly had made the mistake of talking a town up shortly after she left home. Linda had shown up a few days later to see for herself. Another lesson learned.
“Come home. You can do ‘not much’ right here in New York and be with family in the process.” Linda currently lived in the town where Olly had spent most of her childhood. She wasn’t raised there, exactly. That happened in too many places to count, little towns up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
“Why do you want me to visit so badly?”
“I’m worried about your sister. She’s barely speaking to me.” The performance dropped out of Linda’s voice, and she sounded uncharacteristically vulnerable.
“Shouldn’t you talk to Gen about th
at?”
“Perhaps, but I’m talking to you about it instead.”
“I’m sorry, but I really can’t help you.” Olly barely tolerated a phone call with Linda every other week. There was no way she could convince her older sister to do otherwise when she wasn’t willing to herself.
“So, what in Idaho is more important than family?” Linda asked, the performance back in her voice. That was her standard. When she hit a wall, she changed tactics.
“Linda, I’m not coming to New York.”
“What are you doing for money?”
“I’m building shelves.”
“Right now?”
“No.” Olly rolled her eyes. She could never tell if her mom was purposefully obtuse or if she really was just a little dumb at times. “I’m doing it for a local business. It’s just a few days of work.”
“You’re doing odd jobs? How quaint.”
Olly snorted, but didn’t respond. She never expected Linda to approve.
“Have you forgotten everything I taught you? You are far too talented to be doing odd jobs.”
Before Olly could respond, someone knocked on her window. The noise startled her so badly, she dropped the phone. A woman stood next to her Scout, yelling and nailing Olly’s window with her keys. In her other hand, she held a canister of pepper spray. Her eyes were wide open, filled with frustration, perhaps a bit of fear, and a whole lot of fierce anger. Her hair flew around her face in a wild, auburn halo. She was scary as hell and perfectly beautiful and sexy all at the same time. For a moment, Olly was stunned into silence.
Olly held up her hand in a gesture she hoped said “hello,” along with “calm the fuck down before you set that thing off accidentally.” The woman, however, didn’t look like she understood Olly’s message. She raised the pepper spray and pointed it at Olly. What the hell? Did she plan to spray her through the window?
“Olivia? Olivia? Where did you go?” Her mom’s voice was small and tinny through the phone. Frankly, Olly was surprised she could hear her at all.
She kept her gaze on the woman as she reached slowly for her phone. “Linda, I have to call you back.” She disconnected the call even though her mother protested emphatically that she do the opposite. She set the phone on her dash and rested her hand on Rampart’s head. He watched the woman outside the Scout warily, but so far didn’t show any signs of being aggressive. He wagged his tale and continued to watch. So much for the watchdog she’d hoped he’d be when she’d rescued him in New Orleans.
On the upside, the woman had stopped banging on the window. Olly debated rolling the window down, but she didn’t want to risk getting pepper sprayed. That would piss her off. She didn’t know how the woman would react if she opened the door, but it was better than her upholstery retaining that nasty-pepper funk for the indefinite future.
Olly gestured at the door. “I’m coming out.” She said it loud, bordering on a shout, but she wanted to make sure the woman understood. Rampart stood and licked her cheek. Olly smiled despite herself.
As she disengaged the lock, Olly noticed the woman wasn’t alone. Behind her, looking more amused than frightened, a teenaged girl leaned against the side of the motel. She raised an eyebrow when Olly looked her way. Then, with a deliberate smile, she lit a cigarette and gestured for Olly to continue her interaction with the crazy woman at her window.
The day had started so simply. She woke up, called her mom, and planned to go to Bitter Ink to finish her work there. At some point, when she wasn’t paying attention, everything took a sharp left. Now here she was with a lunatic glaring at her and trying to break her window with her keys.
Olly waved at the other woman and offered a tentative smile, hoping to show that she wasn’t dangerous. The woman with the pepper spray pointed it at her with a menacing scowl. She definitely didn’t return the smile or the wave. Great. If Bitterroot were a bigger town, Olly could simply start the Scout and drive away. But it wasn’t. This town was more a village. A tiny, isolated, mountainside village where everybody knew everybody.
Rampart whimpered and nudged her in the shoulder with his nose. “I know, buddy.” She rested her hand on his head again. With a sigh, she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this over with.”
Olly moved slowly and deliberately, telegraphing her movements. As the door swung open, the woman took a few steps back, tripped, and then regained her footing.
The teenager laughed outright and said, “Mom, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Be quiet, Beth. Go inside,” the woman said, confirming that she was the girl’s mom. Not that it made a difference to Olly, but sometimes bits of information like that proved helpful.
Beth laughed again and a staccato streak of blue-black smoke escaped her mouth as she did. “This isn’t your vandal. Seriously, Mom, you’re acting like a crazy person.”
Olly stepped to the side so she could close the door to her Scout. At least that way, if the woman sprayed her, she wouldn’t get Rampart or the inside of her vehicle. She hoped. The soft-top was waterproof, but she didn’t know if that protection extended to lung-piercing chemicals. Before she could close the door, however, Rampart jumped out.
He stood next to her for a moment, gave her a curious, head-tilted look, then walked over and sat next to the smoking girl. The girl laughed even harder and sank down next to him on the sidewalk. Rampart leaned against her, and she looped her arm around his neck. “See, even the dog thinks you’re crazy.”
“His name is Rampart.” Olly knew she sounded like an ass as soon as she said it. Of all the ridiculous things to say. The kid found the whole thing amusing, but her mother looked dangerously close to pulling the trigger on the pepper spray. Her finger twitched and Olly really wanted her to lower the can. And what was the first thing she said? Christ. She took a breath and tried to salvage her dignity. “And I’m Olly.”
She extended her hand in greeting, not really expecting the woman to accept the offer. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t. After a few moments, Olly dropped her hand.
“What are you doing here?” the woman asked.
“Huh?” Why would she care if Olly called home or not? “Talking on the phone.” Olly’s voice rose at the end, turning a simple statement into a question. She did a mental face-palm. This was not going well.
The woman shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. You’re trespassing. What are you doing here?” She emphasized the last word with a desperation that didn’t match the circumstances. Clearly Olly was missing something.
“Oh...um...I kinda...I’m new to the area and I haven’t found a place to stay yet.” Olly scratched the back of her neck. She hated explaining things like this. She didn’t care if she spent a couple of nights in her Scout, but everyone else seemed to care. A lot. She gestured to her vehicle behind her. “So, I slept in here last night. I didn’t figure it would matter since the place is abandoned.”
And then it clicked. The motel might have been abandoned before, but it no longer was. This woman was probably the new owner. Olly looked at the building. Scrawls of graffiti covered the faded paint, and several windows were broken. No wonder she wanted to pepper spray whoever did this. Except Olly wasn’t that person.
As if to confirm her thought, the woman asked, “Why wouldn’t I care? Of course I care.” As she talked, she gestured wildly with her hands, the canister of pepper spray flying erratically in front of Olly’s face. Olly stepped to the side to decrease the chance of getting hit accidentally. On the upside, the woman had taken her finger from the trigger.
“I’m sorry,” she said, amazed that she didn’t stammer. “I thought the place was abandoned. Clearly, it’s not.”
“That’s right. It’s not.”
“Right. So, I’ll just go.” Olly jerked her thumb toward the driver’s side door. “And let you do...whatever it is you do here.”
She snapped her fingers for Rampart as she reached for the door handle. Rampart stayed put and leaned closer to Beth. Olly stared at hi
m. She’d never seen him do anything like that before. Traitor.
“What kind of name is Olly?” Beth gestured at her with her cigarette.
Olly shrugged. “What kind of name is Beth?”
“Touché.” Beth raised her eyebrow, clearly amused once again.
Olly snapped her fingers again. “Rampart. Now,” she said sharply. Rampart licked the side of Beth’s face, then trotted back to Olly. She opened the door, and he jumped inside. Olly followed.
The woman stopped her before she could get the key into the ignition. “You can’t sleep here. I’ll call the police if I see you again.”
Olly saluted her. She didn’t like being treated like trash. It felt far too familiar. She had worked her whole life trying to escape that feeling. She did everything she could to not be a person who deserved suspicion. But here she was, faced with the same derisive judgment that had defined much of her childhood. Nonetheless, she smiled as she said, “Not a problem.”
When she pulled out, Beth was still sitting against the building, laughing. Olly shook her head as she turned onto the highway. Her priority for the day was set. At some point, she needed to find a place to stay. A place that wasn’t the back seat of her Scout in the parking lot of the Bitterroot Queen.
Chapter Seven
Olly stared at the notice board in the town square. The market wasn’t open and the day was quiet except for a woman in a nearby office talking on the phone. Either the person on the other end was deaf already or would be soon if the conversation continued much longer. A sign at the top of the board said the market only opened on weekends.
She found three cards advertising places for rent. The first was a two-bedroom apartment for six-fifty a month. A steal in most cities, but more room than Olly needed and more money than she wanted to spend. The second was a house by the university. Three students looking for a fourth. And the third one specified no dogs. She patted Rampart on the head. “This is a bust, huh?”