One for the Road

by Lynne Marshall

  Dexter whimpered when footsteps approached on the gravel. She dove to her belly, her heart racing. Mumbling male voices conversed but she couldn’t make out anything they said. She stayed stone still holding her breath and trembling inside until Dexter growled and barked and their steps retreated. Slowly her heart rate returned to normal. Needing human contact, she called Dean, but only got his answering machine. She thought about calling Tyler, but knew he’d be performing. Mustering bravado, she stood up and used her night vision to scan the campground for any intruders. Dexter yipped. She came to her senses and realized she’d probably imagined the whole thing. Maybe the men were campground workers looking after her welfare. When she descended the ladder she made herself a promise, though she wouldn’t mention this episode to Tyler. No way would she consent to staying alone, again.

  The next day, they kissed the lake goodbye and drove three hours into Dallas. On such short notice, they had to settle for an asphalt-covered KOA on the outskirts of town to spend the night. The first place Bear, J.T. and Ricky-Bob headed was a smokehouse for some barbeque. Tyler and Dee ate microwave baked potatoes smothered in fat-free canned vegetarian chili.

  “I don’t suppose I get to come and see you guys tonight, either,” she said after taking a dainty bite of potato from a paper plate. Their campsite was so small Dee practically rubbed backs with a biker and his babe sitting on the adjacent picnic table swigging beer and crunching chips.

  Tyler hated to tell her to stay put again tonight, but he had no choice. No way would he trust the Deluxe RV chocked full-o-money in a sleazy campground like this.

  “From what I’ve been told, it’s a teeny, little club in the West End. There’ll hardly be room for our equipment,” he said. “I’m even thinking of going acoustic to make it easier.”

  He read resignation in her eyes and felt like a class-A heel.

  “I understand it must be hard with a middle-aged woman strapped on your back. You don’t have to explain. I’m just the driver.”

  Boy, she knew how to lay on the guilt. And it worked.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you in tonight.”

  He lied to appease her, wanting her to understand she wasn’t a burden. Heck, so far, besides the new song and the great audience responses, she’d been the highlight of this tour.

  They’d just finished their dinner when the boys drove up in the Rabbit. Bear didn’t look too good.

  “Lord almighty, Ty, I’ve never seen a man eat more in my life,” Ricky-Bob said the minute he bailed from the car.

  “Fire. I’ve got fire in my chest,” Bear said clutching his tight stomach as he expunged himself from the back seat.

  Dee looked alarmed. “Are you having chest pain?”

  “Indigestion,” he said.

  “It’s common for people to deny a heart attack by thinking its indigestion, Bear. Are you sure?” Dee shot across the campsite to his side.

  “Trust us, Dee,” J.T. interrupted her rescue. “He ate enough hot and spicy BBQ and chicken wings for three grown men. It’s indigestion.”

  “I’ve got some medicine for that, Bear.” She put her arm around his back. “You want it?”

  Tyler liked the added touch of a woman on this road trip. He liked being looked after and fed, even if he was still hungry after he ate. The flirting wasn’t bad either. Too bad she was another woman he couldn’t trust, trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

  Bear walked with Dee inside the RV and Tyler looked at his band. “We’re going acoustic tonight. Bear can stay home and recover.”

  J.T. and Ricky-Bob nodded.

  That’s what Tyler loved about professional musicians. Nothing seemed to throw them. Tell ’em you’re working without a net and they’d just nod and say, how high and show us where.

  “Okay, sounds cool,” J.T. said.

  Ricky-Bob slicked back the sides of his hair, leaving the pompadour in place, signaling his approval. “Glad I brought my blonde upright along. It’ll feel good to pluck on her strings, again.”

  It occurred to Tyler at that moment he felt glad about two things. Ricky-Bob had brought his acoustic string bass and, with Bear sick and staying behind in the RV, Dee would be able to join them at the club.

  Chapter Seven

  “We won’t be coming back to the campground with you guys tonight,” J.T. said after loading the last of his drums inside the Rabbit at the end of their Dallas gig.

  Tyler grunted, carrying his guitar case to the car.

  The hair raised on D’Anne’s neck while she stood in the parking lot behind the club. Who is ‘we?’

  “Ricky-Bob and I,” J.T. said, as if he heard her. “We got us some dates.”

  She flashed Tyler a look. He ignored her, grunted again, and nodded his head at J.T. before sliding into the car.

  “We’ll be pulling out by noon tomorrow,” Tyler said out the window. “Be there.”

  D’Anne’s throat tightened and her pulse beat a bit harder in her chest. What should she do? J.T. and the full-bodied waitress was one thing, but a husband and father like Ricky-Bob was another story. She cleared her throat to get Tyler’s attention. He still didn’t get it. It seemed J.T., scoundrel-at- large, was incapable of understanding a family man’s need to avoid temptation. But Tyler should know better. Ricky-Bob stood in the safety of shadows with his girl, wooing, groping, and oblivious, avoiding the issue all together.

  Aren’t you going to say something? She practically crossed her eyes at Tyler with the thought just before she got in the car and slammed the door closed. No mind reader, he didn’t get it. It didn’t sit well with D’Anne. She clamped her lips together until they disappeared, but couldn’t hold back her growing anger. She inhaled, jumped out of the car, approached Ricky-Bob with fingers balled into tight fists and a flash of heat on her cheeks beyond the Dallas humidity.

  “Ah-hem,” she cleared her throat again, a few feet away from the couple. Locked in an embrace with the sexy waitress, he ignored her. “Ricky-Bob, have you got a minute?”

  “Hmm?” He regarded her with surprise. “Oh, sure Dee.” He released the girl from his sexual death grip. She giggled then flashed D’Anne a get-lost look. Ricky-Bob stepped away at D’Anne’s insistence.

  “Have you talked to your kids today?” She lowered her voice. “The wife?”

  His glare went beyond irritated. “That ain’t none of your business now is it, Dee-the-chauffeur?”

  Anger overcame her lack of confidence. She refused to back down. “Two little kids think it’s their business. I’m speaking on their behalf and their mother’s. I believe that would be your wife?”

  “Back off, lady.” His voice was harsh. “Mind your own business.” He twirled about face and stomped off.

  Someone’s hand found her elbow. Tyler. He led her toward the Rabbit. “Let’s go. He’s a big boy,” he said.

  She resisted his tugging. “How can you…” “Shhh, leave it go.” Tyler’s large frame convinced her to get back inside with a gentle push on her lower spine. Begrudgingly, she complied.

  They drove home in icy silence.

  Once back at the Dallas KOA, they found Bear had recovered. He headed for the campground showers after a brief greeting in the RV. “I made it, Dee. I’m still alive,” he said.

  With Bear gone, the silence didn’t last long. Tyler chewed on his lip, clicked his tongue, cleared his throat.

  D’Anne knew the three-in-one sound effects made his thoughts important. “What!” She felt defensive and ready to rumble.

  He ignored her, opened the RV door to let Dexter out and guided her in the same direction, picking up a bottle of liquor from the cupboard on his way.

  Standing in the dark under a clear Dallas-in- early-September sky, he proceeded to clue her in. “These are grown men, Dee. They make their own decisions.” He kept his distance, leaned his narrow hips against the RV with arms crossed and hat cocked back a tad.

  She studied him and kicked a rock. “Well, I don’t like it.
He’s making a lousy choice and someone needed to point that out.”

  “You’re not his momma, dammit,” he snapped.

  “Screw you!” she exploded.

  “Quiet!” a nearby camper called out.

  He tilted his head, acknowledged the complaint, and in a soft voice said, “Is that a proposition?”

  “Ha! All you country boys seem to have one thing on your collective minds tonight.”

  Tyler let several moments of silence pass before he produced the bottle and handed it to D’Anne. She looked at him as if he was an alien before she got the message. Relax, he seemed to be telling her. Take it easy, quit being everyone’s mother. After a tug-o-war of emotions, she took the bottle and sipped. This was their world, not hers. She was just traveling through on her way home. D’Anne needed to remember that.

  She coughed when liquid fire flamed over her throat and punched the air from her lungs. Once she had settled down, she took a seat at the picnic table. “Half those waitresses propositioned you tonight.” She flashed her palm quicker than he could respond. “Don’t deny it, because I saw them. They were hanging on you like aphids on a hibiscus bush.” She smiled, took another sip. “Hey, I’m starting to sound like you guys.”

  D’Anne looked at him long and hard.

  “Well, I suppose some of the ladies were,” he said.

  The camping lantern cast a soft golden glow across his face. It struck her how rugged and handsome he looked. And shook her up a tiny bit.

  “So why didn’t you go home with one of them, like J.T. and Ricky-Bob?”

  He chuckled and lifted a shadowed brow.

  “Didn’t mean anything to me,” he said. “These days, it’s not worth the trouble.”

  “Well, it certainly meant something to Ricky-Bob and that cock on wheels, J.T.”

  Tyler’s head shot up. He gave her a surprised, amused look.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that it pisses me off.” D’Anne bent over and picked up a stone, threw it back onto the dirt. Dexter found it and gave it a sniff. “J.T. is single, so it doesn’t matter. It’s okay if some impressionable waitress wants to get her heart broken. But Ricky-Bob? His woman stays home taking care of the kids and what does she get?” She challenged Tyler with another glare. “A prick of a husband, that’s what.”

  She took another swig from his bottle, threw her head back and stifled a cough while she stared into the crystal night sky. The bright city lights hid the stars. Only a few distant planets glowed strong in defiance.

  “Sounds like you’ve had some personal experience.” Tyler avoided her eyes when she tried to burn a hole through him. Instead, he bent down and scratched Dexter’s ears.

  She tugged on the bottle again and forced herself to calm down. “Once,” she said. “Only once,” she added to herself, “that I know of.” She gestured with the bottle to emphasize her point and splashed some liquor over the lip. “Ricky-Bob better at least send his paycheck home or I’ll personally kick his ass.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Tyler moved away from the RV, recovering the bottle from D’Anne’s reckless hand. “I wouldn’t want to see him get whooped by a woman.”

  She smiled, and curiosity ate through her. “You ever been married?”

  He finished his drink and bit his lip when the liquor went down. “Yep.”

  D’Anne sat knock-kneed with legs extended, arms resting on the picnic table, thoroughly relaxed and ready to play twenty questions. “Did it last very long?”

  “Nope and nope. Neither of ’em.” Tyler walked his long legs over to the table and sat on the edge.

  “Twice?” He nodded.

  “For an entertainer, you sure don’t talk much.” She turned to look up at his impressive silhouette.

  “I save my words for the songs.” He took his hat off and held it with both hands.

  “I see.” D’Anne thought for a bit. She enjoyed looking at his blond, wavy hair, fought an urge to run her hands through it. A sudden, stabbing need made her ask. “Do you have a lady now?”

  “Nope.” He put the hat on the picnic table and leaned on a sturdy arm, dangerously close to touching her.

  She stiffened. “What happened to your first wife?”

  “Fame walked out, and the girl followed.” He leaned a little closer, touched her back before picking the bottle up from the table.

  While totally aware of the point of contact, D’Anne pretended she wasn’t. “That sounds like a song title.” She tilted her head and regarded him with nervous interest. She could see his mind set to work. It made her smile when he passed the bottle back and she took another sip of bourbon. This time, it went down smooth and easy, and she shifted into a place of comfort under the meager canopy of Dallas starlight.

  “And the second wife?” she asked, hearing a coughing spasm a couple of sites down from them.

  “Rehab.”

  Several moments passed while she considered his response. She heard laughter across the way thinking how out of place it seemed, and didn’t know what to say.

  “Three times,” he said with resignation, and she could almost hear the pain in his voice as if he clearly remembered each time.

  The sounds of KOA Dallas became deafening. Especially the sounds of lovemaking in the biker tent no more than six feet to their right. It made her uncomfortable and she could tell Tyler felt the same.

  So he’d stuck with a lady that finally struck out. At least she couldn’t call him a quitter.

  D’Anne studied Tyler’s huge silhouette and secretly gave him a nickname. If he could call her “Slick,” she’d call him “Stud.” The irony of the little blue Viagra pills made a giggle escape her lips and surprised her.

  “What?” He took a long draw on their shared drink.

  “Oh, nothing. It must have been hard to live in the spotlight all the time.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I mean for your wives. I know I could never live a high profile life. I think I’d go nuts with my man in the limelight all the time.”

  “Like I said, you get used to it.”

  Silence drove D’Anne to talk off the top of her head. “That J.T. sure is a good looking kid.” More silence. Wrong change of subject. Try again.

  “I bet you turned a few heads when you were his age too, didn’t you?” She bumped his arm with her shoulder, making her point, trying to make up for the faux pas. He didn’t move away.

  “Yep, I guess I did.” He reached, easy as a routine, and rubbed her shoulder with his hand.

  He was either being a gentleman by sparing her the gory details or feeling offended she’d qualified her statement with when you were his age. She couldn’t tell which, but sorely wished she’d been more diplomatic. D’Anne took one last sip from the bottle for good measure, and let the liquor open her up.

  “I met my husband at nineteen, married him at twenty-one. He’s the only man I’ve ever known.” She thought briefly. “Oh, wait. No. I had one totally forgettable relationship before that.” Not quite sure if it was a memory or a fantasy. “Anyway, I was never unfaithful once I met Reese.”

  Bear came barreling back to the campsite, drying his thin, straggly hair. Dexter ran to greet him. “Nothing like a dump and a hot shower.” He stopped short seeing the two of them sitting cozy. Tyler’s hand went still, but didn’t move from her shoulder. “Oh.” He kept drying his hair with a towel and moved on toward the RV, seeming curious. “Guess I’ll be turnin’ in.” He lumbered up the metal steps and spun around. “Sorry I couldn’t be there tonight. How’d it go?”

  “They loved ‘Star Spangled Heart’,” Tyler answered.

  “You got a hit record on your hands, Ty. Just gotta get the right people to hear it so we can record it.” Bear gave a sweet, semi-toothless smile while grabbing the doorknob.

  Dimples. Yes, he had cute dimples, D’Anne acknowledged. Now, if she could only get beyond the gaps in his smile.

  Tyler played with his hat, spinning it around and around in his hands, ei
ther nervous or in deep concentration. “Well, we’re workin’ on it, Bear. I got some good leads tonight.”

  “Great.” He swung the door open. “Wish I could’ve been there.” Dexter followed him inside.

  “Wish you coulda’, too,” Tyler said.

  “Good night, Dee. I’ll be crashing on the sofa.”

  “Pull out the bed, Bear. Why not make yourself comfortable?”

  “Quiet,” another camper protested.

  Bear looked back and forth between the two of them before going inside, a hint of puzzlement on his face.

  D’Anne grinned at Tyler. “It really is a great song, Ty,” she whispered, using Bear’s term instead of Tyler’s full name.

  “Is that so, Slick?” He moved from sitting on the picnic table to right next to D’Anne on the bench. His arm crept around her shoulders. “Well, why don’t you tell me exactly how great it is?”

  She felt young, silly, and filled with awe. “How did you do it?”

  “What?” His face was much too close for comfort. She caught a trace of his spice-scented aftershave mixed with a long night on the stage. Dappled in shadows, he had deep creases on either side of his mustache and looked all man.

  “Write a song in one day. A great song!” She leaned into his body and relaxed.

  “Sometimes things just come to me.” He set his hat on his knee. “You made this one happen, Dee.”

  “Really?” She felt thirty years younger, busting with silly pride and admiration for Tyler. Gee, did I really?

  He turned his head and looked into her eyes.

  She smelled the drink they’d shared on his breath and longed to taste it with her lips. His skin looked smooth yet broken-in. He had a kind face when he wasn’t so busy trying to look stern. She heard him quietly swallow.

  “Tell me about that first fella,” he said. “The one before your husband.”

  She felt a bit off balance and had to dig way back into her memories. She took a breath. “Well, let’s see.” D’Anne narrowed her eyes trying to conjure up the boy who took her virginity so many light years ago. “These days, I guess you’d call him a nerd.” She let her head pillow against Tyler’s shoulder and jaw. He felt warm and inviting. “I liked his sense of humor and he liked my boobs. Boy, did he like my boobs,” she reiterated. D’Anne felt Tyler’s jaw tighten and imagined he smiled.