The Traveller

by HJ Bellus

  “What the hell?” She pulls her hand from mine, looking down at me with a concerned face.

  “You just thanked me for telling you how fucked up I am. Now that’s funny shit. I don’t think anyone has ever responded with a thank you.”

  In slow motion, a smile creeps over her face until a small giggle escapes her lips. “I like this Hart.”

  “This one?” I point to my chest still lying back on the grass.

  She nods.

  “The sexy, funny one?”

  “Who smells like he shit out Ralph Lauren, makes me laugh, and doesn’t take a clue very well. Yep, that one.”

  The light sound of playful music begins to ring out. It’s barely audible, but I can still hear it. I pop up into an upright position. Vannie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Happy childhood memories flood in. The image of Belle racing to Mom’s money jar and then her sprinting outside make me smile.

  “C’mon, let’s go.” I reach for her hand, tugging her up, then reach in my back pocket for my wallet.

  “Whoa. What are we doing?” she asks in confusion.

  “Don’t you hear it?” I pick up our pace, running to the sound of the soft music.

  “Um, no.”

  “It’s a Small World, baby.”

  “Okay, but you’re confusing me.”

  “Just run! We have to beat all the snotty-nosed neighborhood brats. If those little bastards get the last King Cone, there will be hell to pay.”

  This time Vannie doesn’t ask any questions and only giggles while running with me. When we round the block, the ice cream truck comes into view. Jackpot. I check my surroundings and don’t spot any children racing us to the truck.

  “Don’t slow down now.” I pull Vannie along at top speed.

  We’re the first customers to reach the truck. Vannie drops my hand, bends over with her palms planted on her legs. She gasps for oxygen between her fits of laughter. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s wrong, very wrong that the crotch of my jeans grows tight after what just happened on the front lawn. It has a damn mind of its own.

  The elderly man in the truck is friendly with a jubilant smile. “What can I getcha?”

  “One King Cone, drumstick, and ice cream sandwich for me.” I turn to look at Vannie with raised eyebrows, waiting on her order.

  She shrugs then grows nervous. I lean down to whisper in her ear.

  “It’s an ice cream truck. What do you want?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispers back.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask, letting my lips brush the lobe of her ear.

  “I’m starting to.”

  “Here you go, son.” The man hands me the three ice creams.

  “And we will also take an orange push-up, firecracker, and crunch bar.”

  Vannie tugs on my arm as the man ducks his head back into the truck to gather the ice cream.

  “That’s too much, Hart.”

  “Woman.” I stand back with a shocked look on my face. “We cannot be friends with harsh comments like that.”

  “I’ll never be able to eat all of it.”

  I smile, loving the fun mood we’ve found ourselves in. “You know what they say about men with big appetites?”

  She shakes her head.

  “They have big appetites.”

  She swats my chest. I love the contact but have to remember to rein in my flirty nature.

  “Nine dollars.”

  I nudge Vannie up to the truck so she can grab her ice cream then pluck a ten-dollar bill from my wallet. A stampede of kids races up behind us.

  “Keep the change.” I nod to the man.

  “That’s why we had to race. If you wait for the truck to get to your house all the good shit is sold out. Those little bastards are swift and love their ice cream.”

  “Hart, I don’t even know where to start.” Vannie holds up her ice creams.

  I already have the wrapper off the King Cone and the first few bites down. “Do you like chocolate or are you more of a fruity girl?”

  “Is this a serious question?” she asks.

  “I don’t joke around with shit like this.”

  We walk slowly while Vannie takes her time deciding. Her head tilts from side to side making her internal struggle loud and clear.

  “What would you eat first?” she finally asks.

  “Well, I’m a selfish bastard. I’d tell you to eat the firecracker first because I’m really hoping I get that push up from you.”

  She smiles, nods, and then tries to get the wrapper off the crunch bar, defiantly. Her hands are too tiny to juggle all the items. I reach over and grab them from her, easily cupping all four treats in my hand.

  We make it back to the front lawn, sit, and enjoy the ice cream. I’m on my third one while Vannie still nibbles on her crunch bar.

  “I had a sister,” I blurt out. “We used to live for ice cream trucks. I’d get so pissed because back then her legs were longer and she could run faster. And even though she’d always get the last King Cone, she’d end up giving it to me after taunting me.”

  Vannie looks over at me with a piece of chocolate dangling from her bottom lip. I watch as she licks her lips, cleaning them, and I have to fight not to moan out loud. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. It’s the taste of her mouth I’m craving right now not ice cream.

  “I’ve never heard of ice cream trucks.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  She nods. We don’t fall back into a heavy conversation. Instead we laugh, eat, and then I wallow miserably on the grass from a bellyache. Hours pass. The dark night sky envelopes us with those twinkling stars smiling down at us.

  “I should get going.”

  I stutter over my words not knowing how to handle this. I do know that there’s no way in hell she’ll be walking to the bus stop and yet I don’t want to push her back into my car.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I hop up holding a hand out.

  She hesitates for a minute before standing up. I don’t give her a chance before tugging her down the sidewalk.

  “What are you doing?” she finally asks.

  “Walking you to the bus stop.”

  “Hart, you don’t have to.”

  I glare down at her, answering the question silently. I half expect a fight to come from her, but she doesn’t say a word. The bus stop is vacant when we finally make it there. I shudder picturing Vannie all alone on the abandoned street with danger lurking around every corner. This is going to be a topic I will not give up on.

  “Hart?”

  “Yeah?” I glance over to her and quit casing our surroundings.

  “I’ve thought about how to say this over and over, but it’s probably going to sound like a dick move. I like you. I don’t do relationships. Peaches has pushed me to open up. I want to be friends with you, but that’s all I can do.”

  “I get that and appreciate that.” I tuck my hands down in my pockets knowing I can’t go any further with her because I’m here for only a limited time. My wild heart will be ready to travel and crave new adventures. “I just can’t promise that all this sexiness won’t wear you down.”

  Vannie doesn’t refuse when I board the bus with her. We sit right next to each other engaging in a battle over country versus rock and roll. It’s a losing battle for both of us with no sign of meeting in the middle.

  “I can do country as in sexy cowboy giddy-up,” I reply, getting off the bus with her even though her apartment is in clear sight.

  “Hart. Country isn’t about looking sexy. It’s about the words of the song, the way it makes your soul fly.”

  “Well, as close to country as I’m getting is dressing up like a cowboy.”

  “I have a feeling that would be funny as hell.”

  We make it to the entrance of her apartment building. “Are you challenging me, Savannah Ray?”

  “Maybe,” she smiles.

  And it’s a smile that lights up her whole face. It’s genuine, raw, and honest, maki
ng me feel shit I can’t even begin to think about.

  “You’re gorgeous when you smile.”

  I force myself to step away knowing I’m playing in the gray area of our friendship code. Vannie is a girl who deserves to be told on a daily basis how beautiful she is.

  “Good night, Hart.” She opens the door, but before disappearing into her building, she looks back at me. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

  “Anytime.”

  I waltz back to the bus stop wondering just what else this woman hasn’t experienced and what kind of life she’s endured to get here.

  8

  Savannah Ray

  The work week has flown by. Monday night back at the bar I was a bit defeated when my new friend didn’t show up. It was a total dumb girl move. Such a foreign concept making me feel like a fool. Until Peaches handed me a folded note. Brought back childhood memories of the popular students in elementary school who’d pass neat, little notes wrapped in a rectangle with a strip to pull. I never received one back then. I was the odd kid in class that always smelled. I was in a shell and school was my only safe place.

  The smile that spread across my face when I pulled that little strip was ridiculous. It seems Hart tends to bring out that isolated side of me.

  “Hey Peaches, can you read this while I fill the saltshakers,” I had asked her.

  “Girl, you’ve got to be the best employee out there.” She takes the note and reads it while commentating with her opinion.

  Vannie, Vannie Who Has a Nice Fannie,

  Okay, that was cheesy. I never got your number. I just wanted to let you know that I stay home on the weeknights with my mother. It’s our special time to read dirty novels together. A bit awkward, I know. I think I’m going to need counseling to kick the habit. It’s a real stiff one…get it?

  Just seeing if you still want to be my friend on Saturday night? Circle Yes or No and send back with Peaches.

  Yes No

  Your Friend,

  Hart

  PS- If you say yes I have a surprise for you. Remember, I don’t lose challenges.

  That simple note put a giddy, uncontrollable smile on my face all Monday night during my shift. I remembered each word before circling yes and giving it back to Peaches. Every night since I’ve regretted not writing more on the note and like a hopeless schoolgirl who has found her first ever friend, I waited on more notes, but they never came.

  Now that it’s Saturday night, I’m on pins and needles waiting for the man to waltz in. I’d never admit it to him, but the last time he strolled into the bar I saw him immediately following behind Peaches. She had to come in early today to settle a mistake on one of the large liquor orders.

  So now I’m eyeing the door like an idiot, falling behind on drink orders and pissing customers off.

  “Peaches, I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.” I set my tray on the bar.

  “Sounds good. Get your head on straight, girl, while you’re at it,” she shouts over the music while slinging drinks.

  Great! She even noticed me being off tonight. Pushing open the door to the staff bathroom, cold air assaults my face cooling me off immediately. I really didn’t need to use the bathroom, but just a quick break from the thoughts circling in my head. A cold splash of water to my face does the trick for a few minutes. Then I peer at my reflection.

  My face is flushed, and it’s not because of the heat in the central part of the bar. It’s the thoughts of Hart. I’ve never been in a situation where my heart is screaming yes, go for him, and my brain is reminding me to stay away. An internal struggle exhausting my body on a daily basis. I know deep down he accepted the friend card to not scare me away. He also made it clear that Nashville isn’t his forever place, but the thing is that my heart wanders as well for different reasons; safety being number one.

  My hands mindlessly run over my torso, rubbing the soft cotton of my tank top. It’s also what’s under that he can never see. I don’t even look at it. Pounding on the door makes me jump with a start.

  “Just a second,” I holler then fluff up my hair and try to wipe the worry from my face.

  I go back to taking drink orders a little more settled even though I don’t have any answers to my questions. I check the time and realize there’s only about fifteen minutes until my set and Hart is still not here. I brush away the thought knowing his mother is his number one priority and should be. Their bond is rare and would make anyone believe in love.

  “Another round?” I ask a rowdy group of men at the front of the bar near the stage.

  They’ve slammed back their fair share of Jack and Cokes and don’t seem to be stopping.

  “You know it, sugar tits.”

  I nod as polite as possible before spinning around. Comments like those used to bother me, make me sick. It took a long time not to let them bother me. It’s all just part of the gig. Money and surviving is the end goal, so it was easy to learn to cope with.

  The front door of the bar swings open and all heads turn. My jaw drops, eyes bulge, and then I blink to make sure what I’m seeing is, in fact, walking toward me. Hart just entered the building. The man is gorgeous and would turn heads on any given day, but it’s what he’s wearing that forces giggles to escape me.

  I remember how to walk and I saunter in his direction toward the bar. All of his pearly white teeth shine bright framed by his perfect smile. When I’m feet away from him, he reaches up to the cowboy hat on his hand and tips it in my direction.

  “My lady.”

  It’s not just any cowboy hat. It’s a hideous brown felt one with a huge spray of tail feathers centered in the front. He didn’t just stop there. He went hog wild on the giddy-up and go outfit. A large bolo tie with a gaudy gem in the center lies on his chest. It’s when I look down to his boots that I lose all sense of control. A pair of black, silver tipped, very pointed boots top off the outfit.

  “Can’t a cowboy get a brewsky in this joint?” he asks, still smiling.

  “Hart, what in the hell is this?” I hiss in a quiet whisper knowing all eyes are on us because of the awful outfit.

  “Just showing a girl that I can make cowboy sexy.”

  I pat his chest then run my finger along the center of his hideous tie. “You are something, that’s for sure. I’m not confident I could go as far as sexy, though.”

  I force myself to walk past him back to the bar since I’m on the clock after all. I know he’s following because of that damn cologne he wears. I’m certain there’s a secret ingredient in it to make girls dumb.

  He settles on the same bar stool I knocked him on his ass from last week. His looks did get to me then, but my automatic defense mode went up. It’s the way I cope, just like with that last table of men. This bar is my safe playpen where I feel like I can actually stand up for myself. Anywhere else out in the big world is a different story.

  I punch in my order, and before I can turn to talk to Hart, he’s gained a crowd. Not just any crowd, but a bunch of scantily dressed, half-lit women. My heart falters for a tick then I remind myself of the friend card he played. The other women are used to the game of one-night stands. Hart probably knows it would kill me. Fuck, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t even be able to get naked in front of him.

  “Hart.” The high pitch squeal makes bile rise in the back of my throat. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  I sneak behind the bar to help Peaches get caught up on drink orders to avoid the conversation taking place. I keep my head down working right beside her. When all my drinks are up, I’m forced to go back to the end of the bar and load up my tray.

  That damn cologne assaults me, and then it’s his deep roar of laughter that nearly breaks me. I’m not jealous…I don’t know what I’m feeling exactly. My hands tremble as I struggle to lift the full tray of drinks and I know it’s because of the proximity to Hart.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Hart’s hand wraps around my forearm.

  “Eh?” I look over to see that d
amn-dazzling smile plastered on his face.

  “You owe this stallion a dance.” He slowly rises, standing up from the barstool and ignoring the cackles of his flock of hookers.

  “Hart, are you leaving us?” one of them whines.

  “Sorry, ladies.” He pulls me to his side and I struggle to know where to put my shaky hands. “This is my BFF, Vannie; I came here tonight for her and only her.”

  I gulp down a thick lump in my throat. My façade of being tough in the bar evaporated with Hart’s statement.

  “And she owes me a dance.” He nods to them and then sends Peaches a signal before dragging me to the middle of the dance floor.

  “Hart.” My voice fluctuates as I tug back on his arm. “What are we doing?”

  He sends me flying out, keeping a tight hold on my hand then swinging me right back into his chest. “Dancing with you. A cowboy has to have a woman to finish off his outfit.”

  “I…uh, Hart, I…uh…”

  And it begins. I become dizzy and lightheaded with sweat pouring down my face.

  “We’re just chasing ice cream trucks, Vannie.” He cups my cheeks. “Chase ice cream trucks with me.”

  The dark timbre of his voice begins to calm me, then it’s his scent and finally, his handsome face smiling down at me.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  I nod, still not one hundred percent sure a panic attack will not ensue, but I’m going to try. He signals to the band, clearly having this stunt all set up. Then the band bursts out into song, and I can’t quit laughing. It seems that’s all I do when I’m with this guy.

  “Don’t break my heart, my achy breaky heart,” Hart belts out the words to the song while swinging me around the dance floor.

  We are uncoordinated at best, sloppy in our movements, and a complete train wreck dancing away on the dance floor. The man despises country music, and it seems swing dancing goes right along with that. For the last part of the song Hart tugs me close to his chest to sway with the music and fails. I find myself wrapping my arms low around his waist to be as close as possible to him.

  He peers down at me with appreciation gleaming in his eyes. “You did it, Savannah Ray.”