by Joan Rylen
JOAN RYLEN
Also by Joan Rylen
Named one of “20 recent releases, worthy of attention…”
Maggie Galehouse, Houston Chronicle
Rocky Mountain Mayhem
By Joan Rylen
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 Rita Rox, Inc.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogue, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights.
Lyrics of Josh Weathers used with permission.
ISBN 13: 9780985673628
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012953318
To David, for your love and endless support.
Love, Robbyn
To Mom and Dad, thanks for always being there when I fall.
And even when I don’t.
Love, Johnell
Prologue
Viv: hey there
B-Man: Hey lady! How goes it? Long time no talk.
Viv: been busy
B-Man: I hear ya. How are the kids?
Viv: good kid stuff all the time
B-Man: Right! They’ll run you ragged!
B-Man: Wanna get together this weekend, or are you still dating that guy?
Viv: yeah we r in love he’s great
B-Man: Love! Wasn’t ready to hear that.
B-Man: How long you been dating him?
Viv: a few months but when you know you know
B-Man: Wow.
B-Man: I’m shocked.
Viv: proposal soon I hope
B-Man: I’m even more shocked but hope it all works out.
Viv: it will the kids love him too
B-Man: So what’s on tap for tonight?
Viv: we r going to a play
B-Man: That’s cool. Whatcha seeing?
Viv: shakespeare in the park
B-Man: I’ve been wanting to do that. What’s onstage tonight?
Viv: othello
B-Man: Cool. You want to try to get together next weekend?
Viv: can’t out of town
B-Man: Oh…romantic getaway?
Viv: friends
B-Man: Fun! Where are you heading?
Viv: colorado
Viv: im really going to miss craig i spend all my free time with him
B-Man: Yep, I understand. Well back to work for me. Take care Viv.
Viv: bye
***
Vivian Taylor drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. “Is there something you want to tell me?” She said to Craig and then laid her hand over an upside down sheet of paper.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Craig replied.
She looked at him, hoping he would come clean. “I’ve never given you any reason to think I’ve been unfaithful. So do you have something to say, because I’m giving you one chance.”
He shook his head. “Noooo.”
Vivian turned over the page. “Does this look familiar?”
Craig looked at it for a long moment, the color rising in his cheeks. “No.”
“Listen, Craig, I understand you had a crap marriage. Your wife cheated on you. Whatever. But that’s not me. So I’m giving you this one chance to tell me the truth.”
Craig looked at the paper again, then back at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vivian shoved the Facebook transcript at him. “I know this was you. I know you were the person typing this. Not me.”
Craig pushed back from the table. “I don’t know what this crap is.”
“Craig, I fed Brandon these questions. He called me at work and told me someone was pretending to be me online. He knew it wasn’t me. I’m the one who told him to ask what I was doing tonight. You’re the only person who knew we were supposed to be going to a play.”
Craig crumpled the paper and chunked it across the kitchen. “This is bullshit. Come on, get your purse, we’re going to be late.”
“I’m not going. I’ve put your things in a box by the front door. Please leave. I never want to hear from you again.”
“Vivian, I didn’t do this.” He gestured to the paper now across the room.
“Craig, I have no doubt. It was you. Please leave.”
Craig walked toward her slowly, backing her into a kitchen corner. “Forget about this. It’s bullshit.”
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the cops.” She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the phone hanging a few feet to her right.
Craig got in her face, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t do this.” His eyes flashed with anger.
Vivian’s stomach lurched and her heart pounded. She reached for the phone but couldn’t get to it. He leaned over, ripped the phone out of the wall and threw it across the room. The base thudded against the couch, and the handset shattered against the fireplace.
Before she could move, he was back in her face, sticking his finger between her eyes. “You’re a total fucking whore, Vivian. You were a slut before I met you, and you’re still one now.”
“Craig, get out of my house.” She pushed against his chest, but his 5-foot-10, stocky frame didn’t budge.
He grabbed her wrists and held her arms out, slamming them against the wall. “You’re going to regret this decision.”
In full panic mode she kicked up her knee, narrowly missing his groin, but he released her arms. She took a step toward the counter and pulled a knife from the butcher block. She held it out in front of her and maneuvered around him. “Get the hell outta here, Craig.” She reached her purse on the kitchen counter and dug around for her cell phone. “You’re a crazy, sick bastard.”
Craig grabbed a picture off the wall and threw it to the floor. He upended the kitchen table. A crystal vase with fresh flowers crashed to the floor, shards skittering everywhere.
Vivian ran to her bedroom clutching her cell, locked the door and dialed 9-1-1. She quickly explained the situation to the operator, as something else crashed on the other side of the door.
“The police are on their way,” the operator said. “Are you in a safe location?”
Craig pounded on the door. “Vivian, get the fuck out here! We need to talk about this!”
“I don’t think so. Please hurry.” She looked around for an escape. The window. “I’m going to crawl out my bedroom window and into the backyard. I’m going to try to make it to my neighbor’s.”
Craig kicked the door and wood splintered.
“Oh crap, I’m getting out of here. He’s trying to get through the door.”
Vivian unlatched the window, kicked out the screen, threw her legs out and dropped to the ground. Her dog, Cooper, ran up, looking for attention. She took off sprinting toward the side of the house, and he matched her stride for stride. She threw open the gate and kept running expecting Cooper to follow, but instead heard him barking ferociously. She glanced back and saw him holding Craig inside the gate.
Good dog!
She ran to her neighbor’s house and banged on the door, hearing sirens in the distance. “Angie, open up! It’s Vivian!” She pounded on the door again. Dammit!
She ducked behind some bushes on the far side of the house. Sweat poured down her forehead and her heart raced. She put the phone back to her ear. “I’m hiding around the corner at my neighbor’s house.”
“The police are two minutes out,” the operator said. “Stay put.”
Just then Cooper popp
ed out from around the bush and Vivian screamed. “You scared the bejeesus out of me!”
“Is everything all right?” the operator asked.
“Oh my god, yes. My dog found me.”
Vivian heard Craig’s truck start up, then tires screeching on the pavement.
1
Day 1
AUDREY looked up at Vivian with curious blue eyes. “Where are you going, Mommy?”
“I’m going on a plane, remember? To the mountains.” Vivian pushed a blonde curl from her 5-year-old daughter’s face. Wound up it fell at her eyes, but pulled straight it reached her chin.
“Am I going?”
Vivian smiled. “No, sweetie, not this time. I promise I’ll bring you back a special surprise.”
Audrey pondered. “Who’s going with you?”
“My very best friends I’ve known for a long, long time. One of them, since I was about your age.” Vivian put a jacket in her suitcase, then stuffed everything down. “Do you remember their names?”
“I remember Miss Wendy. She always has candies in her purse. And Miss Lucy made me cookies for my birthday. Those were yummy.” Audrey reached into the suitcase and pulled out Vivian’s bra.
“Our room fits four people. Did you forget someone?” Vivian gently took her bra back and stuffed it into an outside pocket.
Audrey looked at her fingers and counted. “Mommy, Miss Lucy, Miss Wendy…” Her lip twitched to the side and she tapped her cheek as she thought about it.
“What about Miss Kate?” Vivian asked, tugging on the uncooperative zipper.
“Oh yeah! I wore a princess dress to her wedding. I remember.”
“You’re so smart!” Vivian scooped Audrey up and gave her a hug. “Nana will pick you up from Miss Margie’s house later today.”
Audrey clapped and squeezed her cheek next to Vivian’s. “I love Nana!”
“I know you do, Sugar-pop, that’s why I asked her to come. Y’all are going to have a fun week.”
Three-year-old Lauren toddled into the bedroom from around the corner, dragging a pint-sized vacuum.
“There’s my little helper!” Vivian put Audrey down and picked up Lauren. “Are you helping Mommy get the house all clean for Nana?”
Lauren shook her head, no.
“Well, it sure looks like you are.”
Lauren looked at the floor, blue eyes mournful, lower lip sticking out, a contrast to the happy-colored small bows Vivian had put all around her hair, something Lauren loved.
“Are you sad Mommy is leaving?”
Lauren hugged Vivian’s neck, still grasping the vacuum, which knocked against Vivian’s back.
Vivian squeezed her for a moment, then drew her back and looked at her. “I’ll bring you back a present from Colorado, okay? And Nana will be here. You’re going to have a fun time. Promise. Plus, Nana can cook!”
Lauren gave a small smile, but Vivian couldn’t help but feel bad. She put Lauren down and went to check on the twins, Ben and Olivia, who were playing with a large-piece puzzle in their room. They were almost a year and a half old and so cute. Ben had finally started growing straight, blonde hair and had giant rosy cheeks, and Olivia’s light brown curls were already falling into small ringlets.
Ben saw Vivian watching, stood up and ran over. He never walked, went straight from crawling to running. And sweet little Olivia, she’d been a very careful walker, never wanting to fall. They were total opposites.
The last time Vivian left the kids had been several months ago
when the four friends went to Mexico.
She had just turned 30, was in the midst of her divorce and really needed to get away, so the girls made quick arrangements and hustled her out of town. Their trip was filled with all sorts of fun: parasailing, barhopping, market shopping, sight-seeing. One problem though, Vivian had nearly been arrested for murder. She and her friends, Wendy, Kate and Lucy helped the local police solve the crime, and she was totally cleared. Since then her life had settled into a routine as a single mom of four young children. She smiled to herself.
It hadn’t been easy and money was tight, but she managed. Fundraising for the hospital kept her busy during the day, and the kids filled in the rest of her life. Her friends and family were lifesavers. Everyone poured out to help after Rick left and the caught-you-red-handed (squeezing fake boobs) incident in the swimming pool. And post-divorce developments produced more shit than she could shake a stick at.
Vivian loaded up the car with kids and luggage, gave her dog, Cooper, a treat and then headed over to Miss Margie’s house. She super-squeezed all the kids goodbye, then pointed the mommy-mobile to the airport.
She and her friends had decided on the Rocky Mountains based on the recommendation of their masseur friend in Playa del Carmen, Rodney. He had worked at a fancy resort near Vail and suggested going during “mud season” in late April/early May when the room rates were lower and most spas discounted. Lucy, living in Boulder, agreed, and having her vehicle handy helped save money.
The girls booked their flights and room months ago, making the trip über-affordable. Vivian called in her mom to keep the kids since Rick hadn’t gotten permission from the SPS (swimming pool slut) to take the kids a little extra.
Whatever, Vivian thought as she followed the signs to the airport. I managed, just like I always do, and I’ll be up in the mountains soon enough. She pulled into remote parking and pushed the button for a ticket. In no time she had parked, been picked up, gotten her boarding pass from a kiosk, checked her bag and made it through security.
Damn, I’m making good time. My life never goes this smoothly!
She grabbed a soda and bag of chips from the bookstore and stopped to peruse the titles. After a while she checked her phone and decided it was time to head to the gate. The plane was loading already, so she hopped into the back of the line.
Air travel is safer than riding in a car. She tried to keep herself calm as she took her seat, near the wing of the plane. It only partially worked.
Nervous and needing to occupy her mind, she picked up the inflight magazine and turned to the Mensa quiz. “The same name applies for a kitchen appliance and where cattle graze.” Stove, oven, refrigerator, microwave, mixer, blender, food processor, field, pasture, ranch. Not wanting to look up the answer, she moved on. She skipped the Tom Swifty sentence, they’re always stupid, and instead figured out how many Girl Scouts sold how many boxes of cookies. She allotted the other questions a minute each, gave up and flipped to the answers. Range was the kitchen appliance/cattle grazing. Duh! Vivian thought. Who uses that word?
She wasn’t about to do the Sudoku puzzle so she grabbed her book, Plum Spooky, by Janet Evanovich, one of her favorite authors. She looked up from her book and caught the eye of a ruggedly gorgeous man walking toward the back of the plane to the tiny restroom. She felt an impulse to see if he’d like to join the mile-high club. Was he wearing a ring?
It was only a slight impulse, so she went back to reading about the mishaps of Stephanie, drinking her Coke and eating her chips. As he walked back to his seat, Vivian eyed him all the way, enjoying the view.
Before long she had given her trash to the flight attendant and put her tray table up. Then she was back on solid ground. Thank you, Lord, Vivian thought as the plane rattled and slowed. Once off the plane, she made a beeline for the restroom. She texted the girls while on the tram going from the concourse to baggage claim.
Good news! I’m not dead. We didn’t crash. Baggage claim in a few!
She made her way through the crowd and saw Kate, Wendy and Lucy waiting for her by the carousel. Just like on the last trip, they surrounded her with open arms and giant hugs. Unlike the last trip, there were no tears. Instead, Vivian handed out trashy straw cowboy hats and stuck one on her own curly blonde head.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeee-hawwwww!” she yelled, drawing the attention of numerous bystanders, but she didn’t care. The girls yee-hawed her back, holding their hats high in the air and waving them
around.
“Nice. Where’d you get these?” Kate asked, sticking hers back on her straight brown hair. She was the stunning result of an American sailor and a Taiwanese mother. Tall and trim with almond-shaped brown eyes, she was a looker and smarter than most men who crossed her path. She met her match in Shaun, and they had been married just over a year.
“At a truck stop, of course!”
“You can take the girl outta the Get-Down, but you can’t take the Get-Down outta the girl,” Lucy said.
They all grew up together in Pasa-“Get-Down”-dena, Texas, a.k.a. Stinkadena, a suburb southeast of Houston. The city was mainly blue collar with roughnecks working in the refineries and industrial plants along Highway 225. The air had an aroma of rotten eggs and a color the twinge of funk. In the Get-Down, you never knew when the next refinery was going to blow; you just had to be prepared to hunker down. The girls laughed about making it out alive and without any weird medical issues, though they were only 30. Guess time would tell.
Vivian had known Wendy the longest, technically since kindergarten, but they couldn’t remember each other until first grade. That was a long way back to remember. They grew up a few streets apart, and their parents still lived in the same houses. People tended not to leave the area once they settled in. The funky air must have seeped into their brains and programmed them not to leave, kinda like “Hotel California.” They had been in the same activities K-12 — Brownies, Girl Scouts, dance, band, flags, all-around getting into trouble.
The time they drove to Galveston when Vivian’s car overheated was classic. They were determined to go to the beach, so they stopped every few miles to pour water into the coolant reservoir, and they ran the heater trying to pull heat off the engine. It was mid-July. Not the smartest thing to do, but they were determined. Indian Beach awaited. And boys.