by Nicole Fox
He gave me a long and serious look. “I don’t know if that’s a wise idea. You won’t have any of us for backup, you know. We’ll be far away, and we probably won’t be coming back this way for at least several months.” He looked down at his boots, shook his head, and looked back up at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Snake.”
“I like to think so. I have to go after her.”
“What happens if you can’t find her? Or she rejects you?”
I didn’t like those ideas. I knew, though, that I would search until I did find her, and that the chances were good she was ensconced somewhere in Myrtle Creek. As for her rejecting me, well, I would just have to make sure she didn’t. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with that if it comes about.”
Bruiser clapped me on the shoulder. “You know how to get a hold of me if you change your mind or if she decides to come back with you. You’re welcome to come find us; both of you are.”
Rusty stepped forward and shook my hand. “It’s been good riding with you, brother. I hope we see you back again, no matter what happens.”
Axle was next, and he grinned at me. “Now that you’re out of the way, I’ll get laid a lot more often. Good luck.”
By this point, Rubble and Moose had noticed our little gathering and joined us. “It’s a shame, because I’ll be stuck playing cards with these idiots, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”
“I hope you find her,” Rubble said as he shook my hand. “And if she has a sister, bring her back for me.”
“Anyone who’s even distantly related to Bambi wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole!” Moose laughed. He smacked Rubble on the back and nearly knocked him over. “We’ll see ya, Snake.”
I watched as the men mounted up and cranked their engines. The noise in the parking lot was like a massive swarm of loud bees, and nothing could be heard above it. To others, it was nothing but noise. To me, it was a sound that would reverberate through my bones until the day I died. It was a rumbling music that would always resemble a big part of my life. Bruiser led the way, and the motorcycles fell into two rows as they pulled out onto the road. The Warriors made a long black line that snaked down the road and around a curve. I stood where I was until the very last bike faded into the distance.
My bike was the only one that remained in the parking lot. The few other cars that belonged to the guests had been parked on the other side, making my ride look like the only one in the world. Alone, just as I felt. I hadn’t realized until Bambi had come along just how much I needed to have someone in my life, and my young adulthood had taught me to keep my distance from anyone who might hurt me.
I swung my leg over the bike and settled into the seat, taking in a deep breath. There was no telling what stance Bambi’s mother had taken on the whole thing, but at least she must have dropped the kidnapping charges. Even so, I very well might run into cops who still thought I ought to be in prison. Even once I got back to Myrtle Creek, I would have to deal with anyone who recognized me and the citizens who were pissed at me for taking away their queen. After that, there was still her mother. And after her, came Bambi. She was the most important obstacle. I had to get her to understand, even if nobody else did.
Firing up the engine, I left the motel and my life as a Warrior behind. I turned to the right instead of the left as the rest of the club had done, heading off for Bambi.
Chapter 14 Bambi
That night, with the makeup rinsed away, the numerous hair products shampooed out, and two new outfits ironed and ready to go, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was the same ceiling I had seen my entire life. In fact, there was very little of my room that had changed. Sure, the frilly pink bedspread had been replaced by a dark purple comforter, and the frilly dresses in the closet had been replaced by sweaters and jackets, but I still knew this to be the bedroom of my youth. Like most little girls, I had spent hours in here pretending I was a princess or a movie star. But there had been plenty of other times when I had imagined I was the president of the United States, a scientist, or a chef. I made my own little cooking shows in front of a toy camera, adding invisible ingredients to my triple-layer cakes and explaining how to make the frosting nice and fluffy. I had pretended that I wrote the books on the little pink shelf, gladly signing copies at the fictional bookstore in my mind. There had been more to me once. I’d had dreams. I wondered where those dreams had gone.
I hardly slept that night. Though my belly had not gotten very big yet, it was already uncomfortable to sleep on my stomach. I flopped from one side to another, never quite comfortable no matter if I stretched my legs out, curled them up toward me, or put a cushion between them. My pillow was too hot or too cold. The worst part was that I didn’t even feel tired, but I knew I had to get some sleep in order to prepare for the interview the next day. I wanted to argue with Mother about it and tell her I wasn’t going to do it, but I knew even without trying that she would never accept my refusal. I would just have to find a way to turn the tide in my favor.
When the sunlight pushed through my curtains and cast bright streaks across my comforter, I went ahead and got up. I made myself two fried eggs, a piece of toast, and a banana. If nothing else, I would make sure my baby got all the nutrition it needed, even if I wouldn’t be able to give it anything after it was born.
Mother stumbled into the kitchen an hour later, her makeup smeared across her face and her hair in curlers, to find me staring out the kitchen window over a cup of coffee. “I see you’ve changed your mind,” she remarked with a smirk. “Coffee isn’t good for babies.”
“It’s decaf.” I didn’t turn to look at her, and I curled my fingers tighter around the handle of the mug. I kept my focus on our backyard, watching the birds swoop through the trees as the sun rose higher in the sky, marking a passage of time that I couldn’t feel. “It was in the back of the cabinet from the last time Grandpa visited.”
“Oh well. Just don’t have more than a cup. It’ll stain your teeth.” She swept past me in her flimsy nightgown and retrieved a box of sugary cereal from the cabinet above the stove. “So, the reporters had originally asked to come by this morning and do a recorded session, but then they called back the other day and requested we do it live on the five o’clock news. You know, create a bigger story out of it. Of course, I told them they could. That way they can’t cut out any parts of our interview, and I want to be sure I have a chance to say my piece. They don’t think the people notice when they omit parts of the story, but I know it. ”
I took another sip of coffee. It was nice and hot, and that seemed to be the one thing that made me feel better, and despite Mother’s wishes I was already on my third cup. I didn’t respond.
“That should give us just enough time to get the house all cleaned up,” she continued. “I want you to take care of the kitchen. I plan to have them do the interview in the living room in front of the fireplace, but I plan to invite the reporters and the cameramen to have a cup of coffee or a glass of tea. And I already called the young man down the street and asked him to come give the front yard an extra trim this morning. No doubt, they’ll take a few shots of the front of the house, and I want everything to look immaculate.”
I frowned. The house was clean, just as it always was. The only thing to really be taken care of were the few breakfast dishes in the sink, but I was sure Mother would insist that I dust every shelf and knickknack. As for the living room, there hadn’t been a fire in that fireplace for years, but Mother would use the mantel to show off her old photos. There was always an agenda.
“Once we’re done, we’ll do our hair and makeup and get dressed. We haven’t had this much attention around here since you won the crown. I know I’m excited. Aren’t you?” She sat down at the table and began crunching loudly on her cereal.
“Mm.” I made a noise just to keep her from jumping down my throat. I finished my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and wandered down the hall to the linen closet to find the cleaning rags. I did as Mot
her asked and cleaned every square inch of the kitchen, working languidly. I couldn’t have cared if the interview was done in a hovel, but I would never hear the end of it from her if a single speck of dust happened to show up on camera. All of this was my fault, and I had to do everything she said to keep her happy. I just wondered what I needed to do to make myself happy.
The news van showed up right on time. Mother had brushed and curled and dabbed at me until I once again looked like the beauty queen she had worked so hard to turn me into. Instead of wild braids and ponytails that became ratty in the wind, I had soft, full hair that caressed my shoulders. Gone were the dark eyeshadows, heavy eyeliner, and deep shades of lipstick that suggested I was far more feral than I was. Instead, my lips were dapped with a pale pink gloss the color of a baby’s cheek, and my eyes had been enhanced and contoured with shades of soft gold. I didn’t look at all like the woman who had ridden on the back of Snake’s bike and spent so many nights making love to him in random hotel rooms.
In some strange way, as I dressed myself and put on my shoes, I found that I missed him. He had made a mistake when he had turned me into a bet, but at the same time he had been kinder than Mother ever had been. Still, it didn’t matter. I had no idea where he was now. I indulged myself in a horrid fantasy of him picking up some chick and taking her off into the sunset on his motorcycle. He probably didn’t even think about me anymore.
Mother had positioned a wingback chair in front of the fireplace, and this was where she positioned me as the reporter came in the door. She was a woman in her late twenties, her dark hair sprayed into a helmet around her head and her suit jacket perfectly ironed. She smiled at me with perfectly white teeth as she held out her hand to shake mine. “Clarissa Thurston for Action News 12. It’s so nice to meet you. I covered your story when you were missing, and I have to tell you, it was such a boost to my career! Everyone was desperate to get you back.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but it didn’t make me feel any better that this stranger was using me just as much as my mother was. She didn’t really care about my story; she just wanted to talk about me on television so that she could someday be promoted to anchorwoman.
Mother shoved her way between us and took the woman’s hand. “Monique Bidwell. I believe we’ve met before.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” A faint look of discomfort passed across Clarissa’s face, but she quickly pasted it over with another newscaster smile and turned to the cameraman, who stood just behind her with a heavy piece of equipment on his shoulder. “Are you ready, Marty?”
“Hold on, just a second!” Mother dashed around behind the chair to arrange my hair once again, and she scrutinized my makeup carefully before she turned back to the news crew. “Okay, I think we’re good to go now.”
Clarissa smiled at me. “I’ll just be asking you some simple questions about your life over the last few months. Remember to just relax, smile, and pretend the camera isn’t even there.”
Marty cleared his throat and began pushing buttons on the camera. “All ready for the test run.”
I should have been comfortable there in my own home, but there was nothing comfortable about it. The pantsuit my mother had stuffed me into was cutting in at the waist, and the shoes pinched my feet even when I was sitting down. She’d had the chair reupholstered recently, and though the fabric was pretty, it was extremely scratchy. Somehow, with just a reporter and a cameraman focused on me, I felt as though the whole world was watching. Mother’s frantic gestures from behind them reminded me that it really would be.
Cold sweat clung to my skin as I tried to focus on the reporter, who smiled at me enthusiastically. She was no doubt thinking of the ratings she would get once the interview aired. “Let’s do a quick test run. We just want to see how well the camera picks up your skin and make sure your voice can be heard well. Do me a favor and just state your full name and spell it out for me. That’s how we make sure the technicians don’t goof it up when they do the chyron.”
“I’m sorry. The what?”
Clarissa laughed lightly. “The chyron. That’s what they call the little bar of information down at the bottom of the screen. Sorry, I need to learn not to use news lingo all the time.”
“Oh, I see!” Mother jumped in. “Like when they put someone’s name on there and explain what an important person they are to the community!” She waggled her over-plucked eyebrows at Clarissa. “You can have them put that in there, can’t you?”
“Um, that will be up to the producer, I’m afraid. I’m sure he has something very nice in mind, though.” She shifted uncomfortably on the folding chair that had been set up across from me.
“But can’t you call him and ask? Don’t you think it’s important to know these things ahead of time?” Mother gesticulated wildly, getting agitated with the young newscaster for not being as on top of things as she would have liked.
“I assure you, they have everything covered back at the station. Also, we only have so much time before we have to go live. I’d really like to make sure we’re running smoothly so we don’t have any mistakes.” Clarissa patted her hair with her fingertips and adjusted the microphone clipped to her lapel. “Now, then. Bambi, go ahead with your name.”
“Bambi Bidwell,” I said obediently. “B-A-M-B-I B-I-D-W-E-L-L.”
The reporter turned to the cameraman. “Let’s have that on playback.”
Marty pushed a few buttons. Though I couldn’t see the video, I could hear the audio. Clarissa’s voice came through loud and clear, but there was nothing after that. The cameraman shook his head.
“Let’s get you a mic,” Clarissa suggested as Marty reached down into a bag at his feet and handed her a tiny little device. “Put it on your jacket, and then just run the battery pack down through and around behind your back. It might be easier to take your jacket off while you do it.”
I nodded and accepted the mic. “Excuse me for a minute.” There was really no reason for me to go to the bathroom to do this task, but I felt as though I was exposed enough already. Besides, if I unbuttoned my jacket in front of the news crew, it would be obvious to them that I was pregnant. I preferred to let them know about it on my own time.
I threaded the wire the way Clarissa had asked and paused to look at myself in the mirror. I leaned on the bathroom counter, bracing my palms on each of the front corners, and angled myself toward the mirror until my nose almost touched the glass. “You can do this,” I whispered. “It won’t be that bad. Just smile and get it over with, and then you can work on finding a way to keep this baby.” With a deep breath, I opened the door and went back down the hall toward the living room.
“We’re going live in two minutes,” Marty announced. “Stand by.”
“The city is going to just eat you up,” Mother promised, wiggling with excitement.
“In five, four, three, two …”
Clarissa’s face instantly transformed into a likable mask for the camera. “We’re live in the home of Bambi Bidwell, following up on her now that she has returned safely to Myrtle Creek. You already know her as our Peach Festival Queen, and we’re here to see how she plans to fall back into the role. Bambi, it’s good to have you with us.”
My mouth had gone dry, and the wire from the mic felt as big as a garden hose. “Thank you.”
“First of all, tell us a little bit about the time that you were gone. For a few weeks, nobody in Myrtle Creek knew where you were.” Clarissa had a serious face on now, and she leaned forward slightly as she waited for my answer.
I cleared my throat. “I took a little road trip with a friend of mine. After winning the crown, I felt a lot of pressure and I just needed to get away for a little while.”
“Where did you go?”
I shrugged and forced a smile. “Nowhere special. We just drove around, sometimes without a real plan as to where we were going at all. We ate at whatever little diners popped up alongside the road, and we never had any reservations for a hote
l. There was a certain amount of freedom in it that you just don’t get in regular life.” My smile was no longer a fake one as I reminisced on my time with Snake. It had been wonderful to forget about everything for a while. I didn’t have to worry about attending any events or making my hair look pageant-ready. Most of all, I hadn’t had my mother hovering over my shoulder and constantly judging me.
Snake might not have wanted to let me leave, but I could see now that he had been right. Mother’s grip on me had always been as strong as iron, and it was impossible to break free of it on my own. He knew that I would never get away from her again, and he had wanted to protect me.
Most of all, he hadn’t ever judged me. Snake had taken me for what I was. I had been adapting to his lifestyle because I wanted something different, not because he made me. If I had insisted that we eat steak dinners or that I dressed in clothes fit for the country club, I didn’t think he would have stopped me. I had misjudged him completely on those points, and it made me wonder what other things I had been wrong about.