Her Bear In Mind (2 page)

Sierra slumped on the couch.

“I don’t know.” She confessed. “I don’t have a next move yet.”

“Well,” Molly said as she poured herself and Sierra some more wine, “If you spend any more money on bribes you won’t be able to afford your half of the rent. And then I’ll have to cover you, and then I won’t have any money left to buy wine and over-priced brushes. And no one wants that.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“I think that leaves you with either sexual favors or stalking.”

Molly grinned at her mischievously.

“What else did you read on his calendar?”

*

“Molly! Wake up!”

Molly opened one eye and glared up at Sierra.

“It’s still dark. What’s wrong with you?” she grumbled and as she rolled over and shut her eyes again.

“
Please
wake up. Look! I made you breakfast.” Sierra said in the most appealing tone she could manage.

Molly snorted.

“You
made
breakfast?”

“Okay, I went down the street for cinnamon rolls.”

“Do those cinnamon rolls have cream cheese icing?”

“Of course.”

“No raisins?”

“No raisins.”

“There better be coffee.”

“Triple white chocolate macchiato, extra foam.”

Molly opened her eyes.

“Alright. You have my attention. What are we doing?”

Sierra smiled.

“Like you said. Stalking.”

An hour and three shots of espresso later, Sierra pulled her blue Prius to a stop a block away from the Governor’s mansion. The sun was just barely starting to illuminate the street.

“So what’s he doing today?” Molly asked.

“Nothing.” Sierra replied with a smile.

“Oh.” Molly said. “I thought the point of stealing his schedule was to know where he will be. I must have gotten confused somewhere.”

“It’s too obvious.” Sierra replied. “His schedule is full of innocuous appointments and meetings. Except today. Today is a Tuesday and his schedule is entirely blank.”

“I don’t suppose he’s just on a Netflix binge?”

“No.” Sierra said as she continued to stare intently through the windshield. “Today he’s doing something he doesn’t even want his secretary to know about.”

By the second hour Molly was snoring softly, but Sierra couldn’t have been more awake. Her mind buzzed with possibilities and visions of wiping that plastic smile off of Joe’s face.

Sierra had done alright for herself at The Post. Getting hired by a major newspaper at the age of 22 had been no small accomplishment.  But three years later she couldn’t help but feel her career had gone stagnant. Her bosses were happy with her work. She was making enough money to get by. But the serious journalism work still eluded her. Sierra could not bring herself to write one more word on the latest Marvel blockbuster or who Jennifer Lawrence was dating. There was no excitement, and no challenge in any of that.

She was bored.

On her weekly phone calls from back home in Visalia, Sierra’s mother always insisted that what was missing in her life was a man. Molly, being much more comfortable with the notion of being married to
her
work, insisted that what Sierra needed was a good lay.

Sierra smiled to herself.  Well, if all went according to plan, she could tell her mother that there was a man in her life. She could tell Molly that she had found someone to screw, or at least screw over.

What Sierra needed was a good story. And if Governor Joe was hiding even half as much as she thought he was, she was about to be anything but bored.

The gates outside the mansion wheeled open and the Governor’s black Range Rover pulled out of the driveway.  Sierra was still fumbling to start her car the when the Range Rover slipped around the corner. Cursing loud enough to startle Molly awake, the engine finally kicked over and she shot off after him.

As she rounded the corner she was flooded with relief that his car was still in sight. She tried her best to stay a few cars behind him, hoping that he didn’t notice her. This was Olympia. There must have been at least three other Prius models on the road at any given moment, so that helped. She let herself slip just a little further behind as he pulled onto the highway.

“You’re going to lose him!” Molly protested.

“No I won’t.”

And she felt confident about that. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was not only sure she could follow him successfully, but that she was following him somewhere important. Every instinct told her he was going somewhere he didn’t want anyone to know about.

But as they kept driving, she lost all theories on where, or what, that destination could possibly be. The further they drove, the less populated the area became. They left the city, then the suburbs, then wound their way onto a back road with nothing but dense trees on either side. It was the kind of road where the tree branches on either side touched, creating a canopy filled with dark green filtered light. Time lost meaning, the shadows giving the perception of night.

“New theory.” Molly piped in after some time. “He knows we’re following him, and he’s leading us into the woods to bludgeon us to death and feed our bodies to the bears.”

“We are not going to be bear food,” Sierra insisted, but privately, she was getting nervous about the surroundings. There were no cars on the road anymore besides hers and the Governor’s. Though she was trying to stay as far back as she could, surely he must have noticed her by now.

“I am not dying for your story, Sierra.” Molly said adamantly. “I’m not allowed to die until I have a painting at The Met. We can go chase shady politicians through the woods after that.”

“I have my gun.” Sierra offered.

“You have a pea shooter.” Molly objected. “I’d feel better if you’d brought a shotgun.”

The Range Rover was at least 200 feet ahead of them, as far as Sierra dared to let it get without it slipping out of her sight. It went over the crest of a hill and disappeared from view. Sierra went up after him.

.

The Range Rover was gone.

“Shit!” Sierra exclaimed, looking around wildly. “Where did he go?”

She slammed on her brakes and turned the car around. The Prius pivoted easily on the narrow, two lane road. Slowly, she backtracked, trying to see where he could have gone. Then she spotted it. Just over the side of the hill a single-lane dirt road cut through the trees. Sierra stopped in front of it.

“Well,” Molly reasoned, “Maybe tomorrow you could come back with a rental truck.”

Sierra just kept staring at the road.

“No.” Molly said, sensing her determination. “You are not even thinking about this. This is a
hybrid
.” She emphasized every syllable of the word, as if Sierra needed reminding.              “I’m fairly certain if you popped the hood you’d find a hamster on a wheel powering this thing.
It doesn’t go off road
.”

“That’s a road.” Sierra reasoned.

“No, that’s a mud bog.”

Sierra tried, and failed, to listen to reason. Visions of her byline on the front page flashed before her eyes.

“I’m not letting him get away.” she said firmly, as she turned onto the road in pursuit.

“Shit,” Molly sighed with ominous resignation. She grabbed on to the Jesus bar as the car lurched.

Sierra bounced in her seat and pumped the gas pedal, hearing the familiar electronic whir of the engine as it tried to keep up. Tree branches whipped past them, no doubt scratching up the glitter finish paint job. The road wound around several corners and foliage so dense Sierra flipped on the headlights. A blind corner lead into an enormous puddle. With an almighty lurch and a terrible bang the Prius sunk into the mud and stopped.

“No, no, no!” Sierra protested. Molly groaned dramatically and leaned back in her seat. Sierra frantically gunned the engine. The tires spun, splattering mud out around them and the car remained obstinately fixed in place. Sierra stared out the windshield in frustration. He was out there, just out of her reach.

She climbed out of the car, sinking one high-heeled foot into the mud. When she lifted her foot again the shoe did not come with it, vanishing completely into the murky soil. Cursing, she pressed on, to the back of the car, wearing only one shoe and feeling the mud squish between her toes.

Molly hopped out of the passenger side, her usual sneakers holding up to the hybrid-eating mud much better than Sierra’s heels had.

Sierra tried in vain to push on the back of the car.

“You killed the hamster. And now we’re going to be bear food.” Molly announced.

“That is not helpful.” Sierra said. She pulled out her cell phone. No service. Perfect.

Molly sighed as Sierra continued to push.

“Ok,” Molly said, “Give me your gun.”

“Why?”

“Because I, with the practical shoes, am going to walk that way,” she pointed back towards the only somewhat distant paved road, “until I find some cell phone coverage. You can go dig in the mud for your heels, and if the bears show up, lock yourself in the car.”

Conceding that this was a good plan, Sierra watched Molly hike away down the dirt road.

She trudged her way back to the open driver’s side door and bent over the puddle. With some reservation, she reached her manicured hand in and felt around wildly for her vanished shoe. Her fingers seized on it, but the mud held it in a vice grip almost as tight as it held the Prius. Reaching in with both hands now, she tugged on the shoe as hard as she could. The shoe ripped suddenly free, throwing her off balance as she teetered on one heel. She fell backwards into the mud puddle, landing on her ass with a splash, still grasping the shoe. Now covered in muck, thoroughly disappointed, and cold, she started trying to get up.

That was when deep voiced laughter greeted her ears. She looked up.

Governor Joe was standing in front of her.

CHAPTER 2

Sierra stared up at Joe, who had still not stopped laughing at her predicament.

“It is not that funny.” Sierra said.

“Yes it is.” he insisted.

He splashed through the puddle towards her, wearing hiking boots and blue jeans. His dark eyes were alight with mirth. He held out his hand to her. She didn’t take it.

“Will you let me help you up?”

Grudgingly, Sierra took his outstretched hand. As he tried to pull her up, her feet slipped out from under her again. She fell back in the mud, this time pulling Joe down with her. He landed with his hands down on either side of her, holding his body an inch above hers. Sierra found herself suddenly very aware of the way his t-shirt clung to every muscle on his chest, then did her very best to banish the thought. His hair brushed her face. He hovered there just a moment longer than necessary before launching himself gracefully to his feet. This time, he managed to pull her up out of the mud.

“You’re a very stubborn and persistent woman, you know that?” he asked her.

Sierra glared at him.

“Do you have a problem with persistent women?” she asked.

“No, I meant it as a compliment. I should hire you as my campaign manager.”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you.” she said coldly.

“Now why can’t you be nice to me, Sierra? I’m a nice guy.”

“I very much doubt that. How long have you known I was following you?”

“Only for the last few miles, he answered. “I can’t believe you tried to follow me in
that
.”

“Where were you going?”

Joe sighed. “Ever the reporter, aren’t you?”

“I prefer investigative journalist.”

“Yes. I read your last piece of hard-hitting journalism. Your review of
Guardians of the Galaxy
was quite moving.”

Sierra glared at him as she tossed her mud filled shoes into the car.

“At least I don’t steal from charity.”

“Is that what you think of me? You should be nicer.”

“Why?”

“Because if you are, I’ll help you get this ridiculous car unstuck.”

Sierra weighed her options. On the one hand, she didn’t want to accept his help. On the other, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do without it.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked.

He smiled.

“Maybe it’s because I like persistent women,” women.” he said with a wink.

He moved around the back of the car and braced himself to push.

“Climb in and give it some gas.”

Sierra sat down in the driver’s seat. She could see him reflected in the mirror, leaning against the car. He was infuriatingly gorgeous, even covered in mud. He might even have been especially gorgeous covered in mud. She cranked the engine on and gave it a little gas. She watched him continue to push on the car without result. Then, as she gave it a little more gas, he moved his arms down and-

He lifted the car.

No, that was crazy. But the car lurched forward and the back wheels slammed back into the ground as it pulled free of the bog. She turned the car around and steered around the puddle, having already convinced herself that the feeling of being lifted up was just the wheels pulling out of the mud. She must have been startled by the movement and thought… never mind. It was crazy.

She stopped the car next to him and rolled down the window.

“Thank you.” she said.

He pretended to tip his imaginary hat to her, dripping with charm.

“Always happy to help a damsel in distress. Even reporters.”

Sierra met his eyes determinedly.

“This
damsel
is still going to nail you for whatever you’re up to out here.”

“I have an alternative suggestion,” he countered. “Why don’t you let me take you to dinner and I’ll tell you all about it? Some time when we’re not covered in mud.”

Dinner?
Was she being asked out by the Governor? Or was this just a ploy to distract her from the real issue? Her hormones, conjuring images of his eyes by candle light over
hors d’oeuvres
and white table cloths betrayed her better judgment and she found herself telling him yes before she knew what she was doing.

“Great.” he said. “How’s Friday? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The next thing she knew, she was headed back down the dirt road towards home, Joe’s Range Rover following closely behind to make sure she didn’t get stuck again. She was trying to convince her brain that her decision to go on a date with the Governor had been a purely analytical business decision. When they got back to the paved road, Joe waved to her out his window as he headed back to wherever he was going. She fought the impulse to turn around and try to follow him again, not being convinced in the least that he had any intention of telling her what he was really doing.

Sierra headed down the road, looking for Molly. It was only then that she realized something and let out an audible groan.

Molly was going to be
completely
insufferable about this.

*

It was a very,
very
long car ride home with Molly.

“It’s a date!”

“It is not a date! He
thinks
it’s a date. I’m just trying to get information. It’s a calculated business decision!”

“Oh, you are so full of shit! Is that what you’ll call it when you sleep with him? ‘A calculated business decision’?”

“We’re having
dinne
r! I’m hardly sleeping with him.”

“You’re not sleeping with him,
yet
.”

This went on the entire drive home, during which Sierra was forced to recount everything that had happened in the woods several times over in increasing amounts of detail. It was only when they got home she was able to escape into the merciful quiet of the bathroom.

She recoiled from her mud-encrusted reflection in the mirror and found herself wondering what on earth Joe had seen in her. Her hair was sticking up in all directions, the mud acting as a kind of plaster. There was more mud smeared on her face, but it was nothing compared to the amount on her clothes. Her skirt was completely crusted in grime, and her blouse was simply never going to be white ever again. She should probably also abandon all hope of her shoes making a full recovery.

She peeled her clothes off and stepped into the beckoning hot shower. The dirt ran off of her in streams. She stayed in there until the hot water turned her skin pink.

By the time she got out, Molly was mercifully snoozing on the couch. She’d passed out there, curled up under a blanket with an empty wine glass next to her on the coffee table. She’d been sketching before she went to sleep. On her sketch pad was a drawing of Sierra and Joe, making out and covered in mud. Sierra rolled her eyes and tucked the blanket around Molly before heading to bed herself.

In her dream, she was back in the woods with Joe, trying to get her car unstuck. She was in the driver’s seat, watching him in the mirror.

“Give it some gas!” he called out.

She eased on the gas, but he didn’t push on the car like she expected him to. Instead, he reached down to the bumper and picked up the back end of the car.  She felt the rear of the car lift, pushing her body forward towards the steering wheel just a bit. The back wheels spun in the air for just a moment before the front ones pulled the car forward and out of Joe’s grasp. No, that wasn’t right. The bumper wasn’t pulled from his hands. He
let it go
and
then
the car pulled forward because
he wasn’t holding on to it anymore
.

In slow motion she saw him stand up again. He’d had to crouch down to lift the bumper. He smiled at her in the mirror. He hadn’t even strained himself.

Sierra woke with a start. She lay there a long time, trying to decide how much of that detail was memory and how much was invented. After laying there for an hour, unable to get back to sleep, she found herself standing barefoot in the parking garage staring at her mud splattered Prius.

The car weighed 3,042 pounds. She had Googled it. The hybrid battery alone was 150 pounds. Even if he had world-record-level strength it would still take three of him to lift that much. She thought about those stories you always hear where little old ladies lift school
buses
off of their grandchildren. This hadn’t exactly been a life or death situation. And he had made it look so
easy
.

She bent down and grasped the bumper, trying with all her might to lift the car. She succeeded only in breaking a nail as her hands slipped and she was falling on her ass for the third time today. This time it was onto the unforgiving concrete which bruised her tailbone.

She struggled to her feet and headed back into the building, hoping no one had seen her. This, she decided, was completely crazy.

So why was she so sure he had done it?

*

Friday night arrived before she knew it.

Joe had called earlier in the week to tell her they’d be going to La Petite Mansion, which Google had confirmed was the most expensive restaurant in Olympia. Sierra couldn’t decide if he was actively trying to impress her or just had more money than he knew what to do with.

She had tried on everything in her closet while Molly offered her opinion on each outfit. She finally settled on a classic little black dress with purple suede high heels dotted with metal studs and grandmother’s pearls. The shoes were Molly’s idea, who had insisted on a splash of color, and far be it from her to question an artist on color. Of course, Molly’s most recent painting
was
of a blue tree.

Sierra tucked a pen and a small notebook into the matching purple clutch, still trying her best to pretend this was an interview not a date. She told herself that the black lace panties she had on were in no way purposefully selected.

,

Joe arrived at their door right at seven as promised. He looked stunning in a tailored suit that no doubt cost more than her whole wardrobe. He smiled as he looked her up and down.

“Better than what I looked like last time we saw each other?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Joe replied, studying her. “I think I might like you covered in mud.”

He stepped into the apartment, uninvited, and began looking around. Sierra followed him nervously, grateful that she had pushed the white board into her bedroom.

“You paint?” he asked.

“I paint,” Molly said as she walked out of her room. “She writes. And we both drink too much and obsess over our work. Though this is probably the first time she’s tried to date her work.”

She shook his hand.

“I’m Molly.”

“Joe.”

“You know she’s trying to destroy you, right, Joe?”

“With those legs I just might let her.”

Sierra found herself blushing like a schoolgirl and desperately hoping he hadn’t noticed. Joe produced a business card from his wallet and held it out it to Molly.

“Give my secretary a call on Monday. I’d like to buy one of your paintings.”