Aint too proud to beg sfdg-1

by Susan Donovan

  Her hand emerged from the drawer clutching a standard-sized business card, off-white, embossed with two large letters in an elegant script/BC/. On the back was a handwritten series of numbers.

  Of course she couldnt use her home, office, or cell phone to place the call, which meant shed have to find a pay phone somewhere. The idea was so retro she quivered. Gwen ran into her bedroom and dressed as quickly as she could while still looking presentable. She slipped on her David Yurman watch, her Ed Hardy sneakers, a pair of silky Versace drawstring pants, and a classic Armani cashmere hoodie. She tied her hair up into a sleek knot at the back of her neck, shoved a ball cap on her head, and slipped on a pair of Dolce amp; Gabbana sunglasses big enough to cover any sign of a mental breakdown.

  She walked about eight blocks, through the Pacific Heights neighborhood.

  Intentionally or not, she found herself in front of Ricks housea modern, four-story glass and stucco structure surrounded by gates and fences and the best digital security money could buy. Shed been there only once, and shed been stupid enough to think Rick had invited her for something more than work. His living room was built for romance, the entire city spread out like De-Beers diamonds in the dark. But they sat at a small table and discussed the legalities of endowment planning.

  Gwen charged down the hill. She noticed a small bar and grill at the dividing line between chic Pacific Heights and the more commercial Cow Hollow neighborhood. She spied a pay phone on the sidewalk.

  Gwen pulled out the business card, then put about six quarters in the coin slot, figuring that should at least get her started. She dialed.

  After two rings a recorded message activated. It said, Leave your information. I shall call. /Beep./ Brief and to the point. Gwen appreciated that Cummings didnt waste anyones time. Thats probably how he got so rich. Gwen left her name, the public phone number, and a tantalizing hint of what she had to offer him. She waited in the booth for ten minutes, feeling awkward as people walked down the street and stared at her. She supposed her wardrobe didnt exactly mesh with the demographics of a woman who relied on public phones. Cummings didnt call back.

  Perhaps that was for the best, Gwen thought, sliding open the phone booth door and trudging back uphill. She wasnt entirely sure what shed say once she reached him. She knew Cummings hated Rick for what hed done to his daughter, his only child. She knew Cummings wanted revenge. She knew Rick had destroyed Cummingss life, much like Rick had just destroyed hers. Perhaps they could offer each other some kind of assistance.

  It was the only way to make it in this world, her mother had always saideat or be eaten. Those were her only choices, right?

  Absolutely not.

  Josie looked at him with that now-familiar expression of acceptance. Big eyes. Barely discernible nod of the head. Little smile. In general, he loved Josies generous, forgiving nature. At that moment, however, it annoyed the hell out of him.

  Shed just asked him if hed take her on a motorcycle ride. The request had been harmless enough, he supposed, but now he was fighting off a rush of dark fear roiling in his gut. His body had begun to tremble.

  Just the idea that hed ever put Josie on the back of his bike made him nauseous. The idea that she would wrap her arms around himthe way Margot hadand rely on him to keep her safe made him sweat. The idea that hed be holding her life in his handsall that goodness and laughter and sweetnessmade him want to run out of the barn like a madman.

  It could be a really short ride, she said. Ive never been on a motorcycle before.

  He watched Josie walk up to the Harley-Davidson, trace her fingers along the shining chrome and the supple leather. She gripped the handlebars and pretended she was gunning the engine, which made her laugh. Then she looked up at him with those impossibly gentle gray eyes and smiled.

  Maybe someday? she said.

  God, Josie. I dont know.

  She nodded and walked toward him. When she stopped before him and looked up into his face, Rick knew she expected him to embrace her, but he couldnt. He just couldnt do it. Suddenly, he felt alone. Walled in.

  Paralyzed by the fear.

  So Josie embraced him. She slowly wrapped Rick in her arms, one around his waist and another up high on his back. She just hugged him. She didnt try to talk him into anything or tell him any lies about how she trusted him with her life. She just hugged him tight, and didnt let go.

  Eventually, his arms pulled her tighter.

  Rick wasnt sure how much time went by, the two of them standing there holding on to each other, the sound of the tractor off in the distance, the friendly tomcat rubbing against his ankle, the rhythm of Josies breath.

  But it was enough time for him to reach the still place inside him. It dawned on Rick that he had a woman who cared for him in spite of everything. A woman who was strong enough to hear the truth and loving enough to forgive.

  Eventually, Rick raised his hands to Josies soft curls and he stroked her hair. He lowered his lips to the top of her head. Josie, he whispered.

  Im right here.

  He supposed that was the miracle. She was still there.

  If we ever did go for a ride, hypothetically…

  Yeah? Josie raised her head and smiled at him.

  Wed have to stay on the ranch. I wouldnt feel comfortable taking you on the road.

  That sounds fun.

  Well, it might not be, Rick said, feeling his agitation escalate again.

  We could get miles out in the vineyard and Id ask you to get off and walk back.

  Why would you do that?

  Because I could freeze. I could decide that I couldnt go another inch.

  Lucky for you Ive got a strong pair of legs.

  He chuckled, aware of how her optimistic nature soothed him, cut through the nonsense. Everything about you is strong, girl.

  So do you want to give it a try with me? Josie grinned at him. Rick knew she was asking for a bike ride but reminding him of their promise to each other.

  Suddenly, Teeny appeared in the doorway to the gym and leaned up against the wall. Hed just finished his cardio and was soaked in sweat, and the tender concern on his face meant hed overheard at least part of their conversation. In fact, Rick wasnt one hundred percent certain the wetness on Teenys cheeks was from his workout.

  Without a word, Teeny walked over to the shelves on the far wall of the south barn and pulled down an iridescent purple helmet with a visor that Rick had never noticed before.

  This ought to fit, he told Josie, tapping her on the shoulder.

  Josie whirled around in delight and grabbed the helmet, shoving it down over her curls. Teeny adjusted the chinstrap and gave the top of the helmet a pat.

  How do you feel? Teeny asked.

  Like a real Harley mama, Josie said, her grin spreading. How do I look?

  Teeny shook his head, laughing. You didnt happen to bring any black leather and fringe with you, did you?

  She shrugged. Forgot to pack it.

  Teeny winked at Rick. The bikes ready to go, man.

  But Rick wasnt. It took every ounce of strength he had to stay put, feet planted on the concrete floor, and not run for his life. He didnt think he could do this.

  For the first year after the accident, the memory of the crash would loop through his brain dozens of times a day, debilitating him mentally even as he fought to heal physically. The memory was always the same.

  The rain on his face, the rush of the drugs and beer in his bloodstream, the womans warm, living body pressed up to his back.

  Then the guardrail would appear in the headlight. The bike would lose traction as he tried to make the sharp turn. In that split second he would recognize that hed been going so fast that there was no way out.

  The impact. The blackness. The pain. The self-hate.

  So what do you think, man? Teeny asked.

  Rick stared at him, remembering how one day he simply had to stop wishing he could rewrite history and focus on retraining his mind instead. He would visualize the rain c
ool on his face, the clarity of his sober mind, his responsible speed, his smooth control around the hairpin turn. Then he would visualize returning Margot safely home.

  Only then could Rick begin to believe his life had value, that hed been allowed to live for a reason. Thats when he got squeaky cleaneven going off pain meds. Thats when he set up the foundation, moved to San Francisco, and started his company. Thats when hed begun to live, for the first time.

  Rick knew the fear that was trying to strangle him at that very moment wasnt real. It was only another creation of a negative mind, and he would not let it run him.

  Lets do it, he said, taking a step toward the Harley.

  Are you sure? Josie asked.

  Hell, no, Rick said. Lets go before I chicken out.

  Des Moines was only 158 miles behind him, and Bennett hadnt planned to stop in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was only mid-morningtoo early for lunch and a couple hundred miles before he would need a fill-up. But the Skylark was acting funny, lurching a bit when he pressed the gas. So he pulled off at the first truck stop/diner complex he saw, appreciating the serendipity of the situation as the neon words MECHANIC ON DUTY flashed against the dreary sky.

  The mechanic was a friendly, middle-aged man missing most of his teeth, who informed Bennett that the Buicks fuel pump had seen better days. He told him it would take at least $500paid in advanceand a couple hours to fix. Bennett promptly paid in cash, and the mans eyes widened. The bean soup is the only thing worth ordering up at the diner, the mechanic told him by way of appreciation.

  Bennett walked the hundred or so yards between the garage and the sprawling roadside restaurant and convenience shop. On the way through the main double doors, he witnessed what no longer even startled himan unfolding human drama of the most sordid kind. A young couple were insulting each other. She kicked him in the shin. He called her a ho, and left her standing on the sidewalk. He drove off in his car with her screaming after him, informing him he aint shit. Just another day in America.

  Bennett went inside and leisurely reviewed the scant offerings on the magazine rack, and selected the most recent issue of /Fortune./ He paid for his purchase and took a window seat in the restaurant. He ordered a cup of coffee, but passed on the highly recommended bean soup.

  A thud on the window caused him to look up from a rather tedious article on the newest struggles of credit consortiums. The shin-kicker had just slammed her forehead against the glass. Her eyes were clenched shut, her mouth was open, and her shoulders shook. Bennett didnt hear any sound, so he decided the glass was either soundproof or she was in the midst of a silent scream.

  He flipped the magazine page, appreciating the sleekness of the latest Mercedes sedan. The glass shook with a pounding.

  Bennett looked up and sighed. The girl on the sidewalk was banging her clenched fists on the window, and everyone in the place could hear her wailing now. He saw the hostess tell the manager to call the police.

  Bennett rose from his booth. Shes with me, he told the management. Give me just a moment to calm her down. I assure you the police arent necessary.

  By the time he reached the sidewalk, the girl had fallen to her knees and had redirected her fists into the concrete. He touched her shoulder.

  Young lady, stand up.

  She shook her head wildly. The colorful beads woven into her hair clicked together like a wind chime in a storm.

  Stand up now, Bennett said, more forcefully. He put his hand under the arm of her jacket. If you dont get a hold of yourself the management is going to call the police. I recommend you do what you can to avoid that.

  The girl looked up at him, disdain twisting her mouth. I dont need nobodys sympathy.

  Bennett glanced around, noting the crowd that had begun to gather.

  Pardon my candor, but I think a hysterical black girl abandoned at a truck stop in the middle of Nebraska might want to take advantage of any offer of assistance.

  Her lip curled. How do you know Im abandoned?

  I watched him leave, Bennett whispered. Please, come inside where we can finish this conversation.

  The girl then turned her head and saw the audience, now several truckers deep. She jumped to her feet and wiped her face with her palms, suddenly in agreement with Bennett. She picked up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.

  Im not what you think I am, she said in an angry whisper, walking past Bennett as he held the door for her. When Bennett motioned toward his booth, she sat, but not before shaking her head with contempt and giving him a warning. Dont ever touch me again, she hissed. Once Bennett had taken his seat, she leaned across the booth and said, I am a strong and proud woman and I dont want nobodys damn charity. This is my problem and I will come up with my own damn solution.

  Bennett smiled. Understood. In the meantime, would you care for something to eat? I hear the bean soup is excellent.

  Um, you can go faster if you want, Josie said loudly, peering over Ricks shoulder to the speedometer, watching the needle hover between the numbers ten and twenty.

  Nope. This is good, Rick shouted, his body still rigid as a board in her arms.

  Josie hung on, enjoying her bumpy crawl down one of the hundreds of dirt lanes crisscrossing through the vineyards. What section are we in right now? she asked.

  Its still the chardonnay. Were getting ready to go into the redswe have a cabernet and a merlot past the split-rail fence.

  The dog pack raced by them, kicking up the dust. The motorcycle continued to chug along. Josie sighed and turned her head so she could rest her cheek on Ricks strong back. She squeezed him tight, and let herself smile.

  I love you, she whispered, not nearly loud enough for him to hear. I love you, Rick Rousseau.

  Josies smile widened. She was riding on the back of a Harley through her boyfriends vineyards! Okay, there wasnt enough wind to blow back her hair, but it was still a picture-perfect moment. How was it possible that in less than a month her entire world had been transformed? That night on the Celestial Pet sidewalk seemed like it belonged to some other woman entirely. She supposed it hadthe woman back then was the prelist Josie Sheehan. But the girl with her thighs wrapped around a thousand pounds of steel and leather was the postlist Josie Sheehanthe girl whod placed her order with the universe and was now a thoroughly satisfied customer.

  She made a mental note to review that infamous list when she got back to the city, because she felt certain Rick hadnt failed to measure up in any category. /A funny, respectful, generous, intelligent, deep-thinking man who is passionate about his work?/ Check. /Loves dogs?/ Check. /Spiritual? Enjoys nature?/ Oh, yes. /Overcome obstacles in his life?/ Puh-lease! /And the imaginative, passionate, sensual man shed always dreamed of?

  The mad kissing skills? The eyes that revealed his soul? The go-all-night-ability?/ Yes, yes, yes, and yes! /Well endowed?/ Ha! In his pants /and/ his nonprofit!

  Everything okay back there? Rick yelled.

  Josie laughed. If the weekend had taught her anything, it was that she could love a man who met all her requirements, yet was terribly, irretrievably flawed. Funny how that worked out.

  Perfect! she shouted back.

  CHAPTER 16

  The girl hadnt said much for the last two hours. Not that additional conversation was necessary once theyd established the ground rules for the trip: if he tried to touch her or disrespect her in any way, shed kick his ass to the Pacific Ocean.

  Bennett had always been a fan of straight talk.

  He dared a glance her way and found her sleeping, her right cheek pressed up against the window glass. He pegged her for about twenty, maybe slightly older. She was dressed like any other young kid hed seen on the roadjeans and a tight T-shirt layered over an even tighter T-shirt. Her denim jacket was clean. Her high-top sneakers looked new.

  Her black hair was braided tight at her scalp but hung loose to her shoulders, dotted with purple, white, and blue beads. She had beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, clear skin, and nice teeth. Not that hed seen her
smile.

  He wondered if she was a college student. Or if she had a job. He couldnt place her accent. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of cheap gold hoop earrings.

  Keep your eyes on the road, she said, her face still pressed against the glass.

  The road ahead was Interstate 80, same as the road behind. And thats how it would remain all way to San Francisco. Bennett looked out the window and saw nothing but flatland. At times during the day hed felt like Jonah, swallowed by some great beast of the grasslands, its innards alien and stark.

  My name is Bennett, he said. Whats yours?

  The girl sat up in the passenger seat and scowled at him.

  Look, mister, I wouldve never accepted a ride with a stranger unless I had to. Im smarter than that. She wagged a finger at him. I weighed the risks and benefits and made my decision. But Im not weak and Im not stupid. Never have been. Never will be.

  I see that.

  So dont fuck with me.

  It is not my intention.

  She stared at him in silence for a moment. What is your intention, then? she asked, her hostility mellowing to distrust. Why did you buy me lunch? Why did you offer to drive me west?

  Bennett kept his eyes on the road as instructed. You clearly needed assistance. Weve all been there at some point in our lives.

  The girl reached up and fingered the gold-fringed Mexican flag hanging from the rearview mirror, along with his pine-scented air freshener. She laughed. If youre Mexican, then Im Vanna White.

  Bennett smiled. I borrowed the car from a friend. Im of German heritage.

  Her stare nearly burned a hole through the side of his head. Do people call you Benny? she asked.

  He laughed. How ridiculous it would sound if anyone in his life addressed him so casually! Even Julia. Interestingly, hed hardly thought of Julia in the last several days. It was as if she were part of a life that no longer existed for him. Ben or Benny would be fine, he said.