Ms. Got Rocks

by Jacqueline Colt

  “Jeez, that was what we should have done. We could have ballooned over here,” Jazz said.

  “How’s this idea? We both retire and run a hot air ballooning business, we could live in Phoenix?” Rocky suggested.

  “Sounds good to me, I’ll get back to you when I’m sixty. First I want to raft down the Amazon,” Jazz said.

  “And I want to climb the pyramids in Mexico,” Rocky said.

  Jazz perked up and said, “Ya know, I would like to go see some of the pyramids and tombs in Egypt too. Maybe we could do that next year.”

  “Wow, I better start mining right now to get that kind of money.” Rocky was laughing as she rigged up for the descent to the mining camp.

  “Even better, let’s go get your plane and go to Alaska. We could climb Mt. Denali,” Jazz said with the excitement of adventure back in her voice.

  “What. Climb Denali, what are you drinking? I’ve flown all around that monster and no way is anyone getting me on that mean, big, ugly and did I mention mean monster of a mountain. Think of something else,” Rocky yelped remembering her frightening last flight around the huge dangerous mountain.

  “Oh, okay, scratch Denali. I feel better anyway. I was thinking I would have to go to the gym in Las Vegas before I went home. I can’t sit still on a plane unless I’ve gotten rid of some of this energy,” Jazz was stretching ready to rappel down the face of the rock.

  “Rocky look behind us,” Jazz said when she came out of a stretch. She walked across the top of the mesa and moved a shrub.

  The gray green fuzzy shrub hid a large wooden brown painted sign which announced that the women were sitting on the top of Two Sisters Mountain. What it further announced was they were in the Lost Dutchman State Park.

  The sign told them 2.5 miles down the paved trail on the other side of the mountain was the state park headquarters. Both women were speechless.

  “Did Mr. Engstrom mention that we were camping in a friggin’ state park for 500 bucks a night?” Jazz asked the hot dry air and then they rappelled down the side of the mountain.

  Though the women felt as if they had been duped, they were in a better mood for having worked the muscle groups when they arrived back at the shack. They would give the old miner another chance to earn his money.

  Horace Engstrom seemed to not have moved an inch from the faded ragged webbing lawn chair in which he had parked his musty carcass when they had left for the rock climb.

  “Are we sleeping in the shack tonight?” Rocky asked.

  “I am. You girls get the tent out under the stars,” Horace Engstrom answered waving his arm grandly around the dusty mining camp.

  “Thank God for small favors,” thought Jazz as she began to rummage through the packs looking for the tent,water or anything that would make her feel more comfortable.

  “Hey, Horace where is the water?” Jazz called over to him.

  “You girls can have the water when you get that dry washer going,” Horace said with a leer.

  "What, I don’t think I heard you right?” Jazz turned abruptly and stared at the old man, her body on alert.

  “You heard him Jazz he said that we have to work for water,” Rocky replied, trying to make it sound as though Horace were joking.

  It took exactly four steps by Jazz toward Horace before he was out of the chair retrieving the water canteens from the shack porch.

  Jazz walked right into Horace’s face space and whispered something to him. Rocky could not hear what she said, but she watched the color drain from the old man’s face as he backed away from the angry Jazz.

  Jazz handed the other canteen to Rocky and they drank the whole quart each. Jazz walked past the wary Horace onto the porch, and searched the entire pack for more water.

  “What were you planning to water the burros with?” she yelled at him.

  Jazz slammed the door to the cabin so hard that it lost the grip of one hinge and hung cattywampus on the final hinge. She again slammed it that hard when she came back with a pitcher of water and a bucket with water for the burros.

  Jazz made three trips from the shack with the bucket to water the burros. Rocky found and pitched the tent for them.

  In that time span Horace did not move from his lawn chair and Jazz glared at him each time she passed by.

  Rocky found the choice for dinner. There was a can of hash, a can of creamed corn and a package of chocolate cupcakes. Rocky built a campfire and prepared the skimpy meal. Neither she nor Jazz offered Horace a plate, though they left enough in the pans that he could help himself.

  There was no jolly campfire program on lost treasure, chipmunks or trail lore offered at the old mining shack campfire after the sun set.

  When the sun went down Horace retired to the shack and lit a lantern. The women could hear a ball game blaring from the radio.

  Rocky and Jazz decided not to clean the campsite. Then they started telling coyote stories, and changed their minds regarding cleaning up, even if Horace won that way.

  After the chores were completed they sat in the dark under the stars and listened to the night around the noise from the ball game. They enjoyed the slight cooling air temperature with the gentle breeze smelling of heat and something indefinable to either of the new found friends. They had enough sun and exercise that they were both tired. Jazz thought she would probably sleep even though underneath she was still furious at and suspicious of Horace Engstrom.

  By the shank of the evening each of the women was asleep in the tent. The sounds of the desert at night were not scary enough to keep them awake. They agreed that a big mug of hot chocolate would have been wonderful before they hit the sleeping bags, but life was tough in the wilds of a state park in Arizona.

  In whispered tones they agreed, that if Horace did not get them started up the mountain to a gold mine site they were dumping him first thing in the morning.

  There was no moon that night, but it did not take moonlight for Jazz to feel something moving on the inside of her thigh. She held her breath hoping that it was not a rattlesnake wanting to bed down with her. As she opened her eyes she took a deep breath and smelled the stale body smell of the old miner. Jazz grabbed his arm at the wrist.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” she half whispered to the astonished Horace.

  “I’m looking for the flashlight.” he said trying to wriggle out of Jazz’ vise grip on his wrist.

  “I don’t keep a flashlight in my crotch,” Jazz said not releasing his wrist. “I should kill you and dump you in the stupid machine.”

  “Just looking for the backpacks for a flashlight,” Engstrom repeated.

  Jazz saw Rocky’s wallet in his other hand.

  “Wrong answer dude, drop the wallet, move back out of the tent,” Jazz was turning the man’s wrist into a whole new range of motion.

  Rocky was awake and pulling on her jeans while Jazz was backing the old man out of the tent.

  Rocky rolled the sleeping bags and stuffed their belongings in the backpacks.

  When she was finished and sitting on the edge of the tent tying her boots, Jazz had maneuvered Horace onto the porch.

  Horace was making a huge mistake by leering at Jazz in the cotton tank top and nylon running shorts that she slept in. Jazz could see that Rocky was packing up to leave and Rocky did not have to say a word for Jazz to concur. The only question in Jazz’ mind was what to do with the old miner, considering that no man had ever leered at Jasmine Harris and lived long and prospered afterwards.

  “Rocky we are taking the burros too. I’m not leaving them here with him,” Jazz said.

  “Okay that works with me,” Rocky went into the corral and tied the burros together into a line and decided that she was ready to go.

  “Anytime you are ready to go, I am,” Rocky called over to Jazz who had returned to the porch with Rocky’s wallet but without Horace.

  She stopped long enough to pull on the jeans and shirt that Rocky tossed to her.

  “Where’s Horace?”
Rocky asked.

  “What did I do with my boots?” Jazz was tippy toeing around the desert in the dark. “I tied him to the bed frame. I left him a big bottle of water, which is more than I think he would do for anyone,” she stated. I found my boots, give me a minute, I’ll be ready,” Jazz said fumbling with the laces in the dark.

  Jazz took the lead rope of the burro and stepped out onto the dark trail. The hike that took them the entire morning when Horace Engstrom was setting the pace took Jazz, Rocky and the three burros a little more than an hour in the pitch dark night down the paved state park trail. The burros did not seem to mind the unusual pace that the young women set. The walk was easy for them in the relative cool of the night.

  The trading post was dark and locked when the women arrived at the base of the mountain trail. Jazz put the burros into their corral and found a hose to fill their empty water trough. She planned to let the water run for as long as it took.

  Rocky went after the dogs, whom she expected to be locked inside the trading post.

  Muffled yips came from under their rental Jeep. Rocky found Lovie prostrate with her tongue lolling out of her mouth and Phoebe was in slightly better condition. The dogs were chained to a Jeep wheel.

  Rocky swung her pack down and started pouring water into the mouths of the dogs. Jazz joined her under the vehicle and as Rocky poured water Jazz gently unchained the dogs and lifted them from underneath. Lovie was barely conscious. Jazz found the car keys in Rocky’s pack and while Rocky continued to alternate pouring water into their parched mouths Jazz started the air conditioning, loaded the dogs into the car and then threw the rest of the gear into the back of the Jeep. She drove like a frenzied maniac out of the parking lot and sped toward the city.

  They were out of the driveway and approaching the city limits of Mesa, when Rocky found the reservation confirmation and Rocky fished her credit card out of her pack.

  “I’m calling my credit card company. Maybe he charged my card, even though it was prepaid,” Rocky yelled from the floor of the Jeep.

  Fifteen minutes later, the charge that should not have been there was canceled. They were at the side of the road having a pit stop, and discussing their feelings about the whole episode.

  “I think it was when he didn’t even ask us in for a drink of water. Most people out here would have at least offered the dogs water. I didn’t even see a soda machine in the store,” Rocky told Jazz.

  “The whole thing freaked me out. I feel lucky to have gotten out alive,” Jazz said. “Creeped me out waking up with his hand on my leg.”

  “Was he really seriously groping you or was he looking to steal something?” Rocky asked as she wet Lovie’s muzzle again with the water.

  “Either way he was planning to take something that wasn’t his to take.” Jazz commented. “I’m calling the SPCA in the morning, they have to check on those burros.”

  “The business did come highly recommended from the travel agency though, so it couldn't be that bad,” Rocky was thinking aloud.

  “Have you considered that is because no one made it back alive to complain?” Jazz aimed her fabulous smirk smile back at Rocky.

  “Thanks, I really needed you to freak me out like that,” Rocky mewed, and she and Jazz exploded with laughter.

  “Now what do we do, do we have enough money for a weekend in Las Vegas?” Rocky asked. “Where can we go at three AM, with two dehydrated exhausted dogs?”

  “Let me think a minute. I know a hotel where we can probably get a discount on rooms,” Jazz advised. “We can always get a comp or two on meals; it’s the clothes that are going to kill us. God, I look like refugee from the “Beverly Hillbillies”. I can’t go into the hotel looking like this. My Father will have a absolute friggin' coronary,” Jazz was lamenting.

  The women flew Rocky’s Twin Otter airplane from Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport to Las Vegas. While in the air Rocky was trying to explain to Jazz why she can not take the freebies Jazz was lining up for them. Jazz alternated between her cell phone and getting the rapidly reviving Lovie to have another drink of water. Phoebe had slurped up an entire pan of water and was sniffing around for a meal.

  “Don’t worry about it Rocky, these people owe my family big time. The boutique owner used to be my Dad’s girlfriend, heck, she may still be, but he never leaves Boston, so who knows?” Jazz explained with a shrug.“Anyway, my Father either owns the store or is partners with her, I have never grasped the whole thing straight up.” Jazz was making a half hearted attempt to explain.

  “Besides which, you are flying and paying for the plane, saving us tickets.”

  “Jazz, tickets Phoenix to Las Vegas are much cheaper than flying this baby there, and half of what one of those pairs of shoes will cost,” Rocky was laughing. “But you made your point. Thank you, we're going to have some fun.”

  “Go with the flow, Rocky. My father’s treat,” Jazz was looking unconcerned as they dropped into the short final pattern for McCarran airport in Las Vegas.

  While Rocky was charging the airport fees and making the fueling arrangements, Jazz was on her phone finishing the hotel deal.

  Shortly thereafter, the women and dogs were met at the private terminal entrance by a white limo, and someone else had to battle the traffic from the airport to the Strip.

  “We are staying at the Bellagio? Not. Jazz, you are joking? Your Dad’s ex-girlfriend owns the Bellagio, too? I can’t even pay for a reduced rate here,” Rocky was wide-eyed and disbelieving as the limo drove into the main entrance of the huge, beautiful hotel casino.

  “I told you not to worry, Dad’s treat. A man owns the Bellagio, and I don’t think my Dad has ever met him. Enjoy. Do you want to eat breakfast here or go over to Spago and get a pizza?” Jazz was in her element. Rocky was not.

  “Mr. Cole will have the arrangements made for the dogs while we are out, if you don’t want to leave them in the room. Lovie will like the air conditioning and pool at the Doggie Day Spa. He said our clothes will meet us at the hotel. I have to get through the lobby without anyone recognizing me,” Jazz said as she sat in the limo with her arm around the big Boxer the entire way from the airport. Lovie had conquered another friend for the Boxers of the world and the dog was feeling better.

  Phoebe had not bitten Jazz. When Rocky explained Phoebe’s back-off personality, Jazz was not frightened in the least.

  Jazz remarked to Rocky, “I know lots of people exactly like that, we will get along fine. I’ve always wanted a dog. This is a treat for me.”

  Phoebe seemed to agree with her. She and Jazz looked with respect at each other. Phoebe accepted the water from Jazz without a problem. That was the total that Rocky ever required of Phoebe. No biting and respect for another person’s airspace.

  Occasionally, that stretched Phoebe’s ability to cope with humans. The little formerly abused mutt Rocky rescued always made a valiant effort for Rocky’s sake, but occasionally it was too much to expect.

  “Uncle Michael, how are you, you’re looking amazing,” Jazz was air kissing the Bellagio concierge and he was hugging and patting her on the back. They were in the magnificent lobby of the world famous hotel.

  “Rocky, I would like you to meet Uncle Michael, Mr. Michael Cole. Whatever we need, Uncle Michael will take care of it for us,” Jazz was explaining.

  “Miss Jasmine, I took the liberty of booking breakfast at the Cafe Bellagio and for dinner your usual table at Jasmine.” Uncle Michael said, obviously enjoying being near Jazz. He was another man that Jazz had totally captivated.

  “That is wonderful, Uncle Michael. Are there any openings at the Spa this morning? We have been roughing it in the wilds of Arizona,” Jazz assured him, to which Rocky snorted.

  “I believe they are expecting you and Miss Clancy directly after the boutique has delivered your purchases.” the tall distinguished Uncle Michael replied.

  The supremely unflappable man leaned over the desk and addressed the dogs.

  “I have not found a veterin
arian as of this moment, but the house doctor will give the ladies a checkup should they required one.”

  He said talking to the astonished dogs, “Good morning ladies, you are expected in the pet spa,” he handed Lovie a dog biscuit, and before Rocky could warn him, he offered one to Phoebe. Rocky tightened her hold on Phoebes’ lead and drew in her breath.

  Phoebe daintily took the proffered biscuit by the very edges of her front teeth. She also looked Uncle Michael directly in the eye. Rocky thought it best to guide Phoebe in another direction.

  Their party was escorted directly to the elevators by the bell captain, without stopping to register. Rocky was so concerned keeping the nervous little dog from striking out at an unsuspecting object, she did not notice.

  Before stepping into the elevator, Rocky put her open hand in front of Phoebe’s mouth, and Phoebe gratefully dropped the dog cookie into Rocky’s hand. She,in turn, gave it to Lovie who can eat and walk simultaneously.

  Phoebe was terrified of the express elevator; Rocky picked her up and held her close the entire few seconds they were gliding to their floor. Phoebe felt like throwing up, but could not find a private spot to do so. Rocky could feel the dog’s stomach turning over as they reached their floor. Rocky was more concerned for her sweet dog, than the shirt she was wearing.

  Rocky and Jazz decided that Phoebe and Lovie were best left in their suite of rooms. Lovie had made herself right at home, lying under the air conditioner vent. The big dog seemed to have recovered with the application of water. Phoebe scuttled under the peach brocade couch, and seemed fine with watching the women from there while her tummy settled.

  After the delivery of the designer clothes from the boutique, it took the women under an hour to shower and re-do themselves. They met in the living room of the suite, as the butler delivered a huge gift basket. Rocky was already out of tip money and still mind boggled at the quality of the clothes that were delivered.

  “Rocky, don’t do that, I’ll put the tip on the tab,” Jazz said. “I will sign for everything.”

  The friends left the suite of rooms, looking for breakfast. Jazz was elegant in an electric blue silky capri pants and tunic with black strap heels that were higher than Rocky had ever seen anyone wear. Rocky felt conspicuous in her golden topaz tinted one shouldered styled top and matching palazzo pants. The shoes the boutique sent were gorgeous but were impossible for Rocky to walk in and she went for the black sequined ballet flats that were probably meant to be bedroom slippers. Jazz now towered a good two inches over Rocky. They agreed that the other looked stunning.