The Camp (6 page)

“Bus is gone. I’ll get the doors.” He’d just released his harness when the big barn door began to roll open. He hopped out and turned to face Claire. “Give me a second.”

They hadn’t met their neighbors and had no idea what to expect.

When the door was half open, the interior light came on and Paul was plainly illuminated. Rye jogged up and gave his friend a hand, then turned and gave Claire a wave. The two walked the ambulance forward until it crossed an imaginary line. She slid out of the cab.
 

“Ill plug her in and check all the fluids, if you’ll block the wheels.”

“Deal.” He tossed a block to Paul and loped to the other side.

The three walked through the breezeway and gathered back in the space they’d made earlier in the living room.

Paul knew better than to comment on the short duration of the call. They both seemed somber and distracted.

“Amy should be at the house by now. I like to give her a few minutes before I show up.”

Rye gave him a sad smile. “A runner was killed by a hit and run.”

Paul waved a hand in the air. “God, I’m sorry. I can hang outside, really, wait for the taxi.”

Claire sat cross-legged on the floor and waved Paul to the beanbag chair.

“Amy’s boyfriend is what? Twenty-four? Shouldn’t he have his own car? And what the hell is he doing with a 15 year old?

She instantly knew she had overstepped her bounds and held up both hands as if to fend him off. “I know. None of my business.”

Paul shook his head and pursed his lips. “Wrong. None of
our
business. I have no idea what she sees in that guy. But I can imagine all hell breaking loose if I even questioned her judgment, or his age.”

He looked over at Rye, then back at Claire. “How is she in the Dojo? You know, when it’s just the two of you training.” Claire folded and then unfolded her arms. “She’s a good student. Hard working. Self-motivated but tight-lipped. When we talk, it’s just about training or you.”

Paul looked over at his friend. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Rye looked back at Paul, then over at Claire. “You guys think there’s any truth to what Ed said? You know, before that last call?”

Chapter Nine

Ellen was startled awake by a noise. She pushed up into a sitting position and shivered. It was dark. Really, it was only dusk, but the canopy made by the trees cut out the last remaining rays of the sun.

She ran a hand through her hair and it came away with twigs and a strand of moss. She pushed to her feet and leaned on a nearby tree until she got her bearings. Then the memory of her mother slapping her came back and she brought a hand to her face. When she ran a fingernail over a tiny bump, it came away damp and red. Then she remembered running through the woods.

Her life was a shipwreck. She gave a little chuckle at the expression. Nothing mattered anymore. Whatever happened, she could never go back to school. Stafford would be all over her for the picture she’d sent, and her friends would be all over her big time about how she lost Steven because she didn’t put out.
 

Ellen stepped away from the tree. “Whatever.”

The trail was easy to find, even in the dark. Before Steven, when she’d been so alone and lonely, she’d spent hours in these woods.

Dorothy was in the kitchen preparing dinner, she hadn’t known what else to do. When she heard the front door open and close she pushed open the swinging kitchen door and peeked out.
 

“Are you okay? I have returned the doors and dinner is ready.”

Her mother never ceased to amaze her. “I need to clean up. I’ll just be a minute.”

When she finally entered the kitchen, she began to cry, crossed the room and fell into her mothers waiting arms. “Oh, mama, I’m such a mess.”

Dorothy pulled her daughter away and held her out at arm’s length.
 

“Look at your mother.” Ellen snuffled and raised her head. “You are young woman with young woman emotions. This I understand.”

She suddenly found the familiar clipped English of her mother’s accent comforting.

Without a response, Ellen walked to her place at the little kitchen table. It felt so comfortable, yet she knew that it would soon be a thing of the past. But for now, now she was her mother’s daughter once again.

When the food was gone—Dorothy always made just enough for the two of them—neither stood to clear the table.

“Mama, what am I going to do? I can’t go back to school.”

“Hiouchi.”

She looked at her quizzically. “What?”

Her mother stood and walked around the table, taking her hand the way she used to when Ellen was a little girl and she had a surprise for her.

Dorothy sat her in front of the computer. “Hiouchi. Not school. Wake computer.”

Ellen ran the mouse around the pad until the screen came to life.

She looked at the screen in horror, and then looked over at her mother. “A camp for troubled teens?”

Her mother folded her arms. “Perhaps a camp for a teen not wanting to go back to school.”

Ellen reached out and took her mother’s hand, pulling her closer. “And perhaps for a troubled teen.”

Chapter Ten

Ed pulled the Volkswagen bus in front of the only house on the block that looked like it needed to be torn down. The roof was missing slates, the siding needed a new coat of paint, and the spring that rolled up the garage door was broken, leaving it unevenly half-open. The windows were covered from the inside with yellowed and stained sheets.

“C’mon in for a minute.”
 

Amy took one look at the dilapidated pickup in the driveway. “No way. Your perverted roommate is home and he’s always hitting on me.”

“Hey, no problem. I can handle Frank.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, well, you don’t.”

He moved in for a kiss, but she pushed him off.

“Hey, what do you really know about that shit?”

He pulled back and tried to hide that he was pissed at her.

“What shit?”

She opened the door and hung a leg out. Amy didn’t really want to know anything about trafficking girls for sex. She just wanted him to get out so she could drive home.
 

She always told her father that Ed dropped her off and walked home. Whenever he used the bus to take her home she almost always ended up at his place. There was always beer and munchies, and sometimes they fooled around. She never went all the way and refused to do any of that mouth stuff. He always seemed satisfied with a handjob. It got her off the hook and usually out the door.

“You know, what you were saying back at the Andersons’ about sex trafficking. How would you know anything about that stuff?”

Ed slipped out of the bus without answering and walked around to her side. “Just what I heard Frank talking about.” Then he walked her around to the driver’s side.
 

They didn’t notice the figure lurking behind the hedge, listening, watching, and then quickly moving into the house when Amy climbed into the cab.

She was behind the wheel before he could try and kiss her again. “I knew he was a pervert.” She started the engine, shoved it in first and took off.

Ed walked into the house. Frank was crossing the living room with a joint in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. He stopped and looked past him at the door. “What, no pussy again tonight?”

“You’re really fucked up, you know that Franki?” For a minute, Ed thought he saw something in Frank‘s expression, maybe anger. He might just resent the comment, but no.
 

Frank took another hit off the joint, and held it in for just a minute before exhaling. “Probably. But I’m getting laid.”

Ed gave him the finger and continued down the hall to his room.
 

Frank dropped the charade. He’d just made it back into the house before Ed came through the front door.

Amy drove the bus into the garage and then walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and closed it again without taking anything. She walked past her father’s office and thought about calling him to say she was home, but didn’t. She felt restless, at loose ends.

She walked into her room and shut the door, thought about Ed, and felt kind of dirty. They’d been fooling around more and more lately and she knew that soon he wouldn’t be satisfied and would want her to do more. Maybe she should tell Aunt Claire. Tell her that she’d been giving Ed handjobs. Amy smiled. “She’d probably kill him.” No. In her minds eye, she saw the daggers come out. There was no way she could confide in Claire. She went into the bathroom. She would have to do this herself. She and Ed were finished.
 

When Amy came out she was vilifying Ed one finger at a time. She held up her index finger. He smoked. Held up her middle finger. He drank. Held up her ring finger. He probably used pot. Plus, she knew for certain that he didn’t have a job in construction waiting for him in Vegas. She thrashed her head back and forth and gave an involuntary shiver. Worst of all, he wanted a blowjob and to get down her pants. “Shit. Not going to happen.” She couldn’t even remember how she met him. Then gave a gasp. He’d picked her up after a basketball game.

She heard Uncle Rye’s motorcycle with the sidecar drive up and knew he was dropping her father off. She walked from her room to the kitchen. The last thing her father did before going to bed was to set the coffee. He was an early bird, so ten was usually his witching hour. It was eleven. She figured he’d beeline it to the coffee maker.

Paul sauntered into the kitchen with a slight limp. The first half of the day it was hardly noticeable, but by afternoon and evening, it was definitely affecting his gait.

He stopped when he saw his daughter leaning against the counter.

“I set up morning coffee for you.”

He walked over to the counter, turned around, and scuttled over until he was rubbing shoulders with her.

“Thanks for preparing my caffeine fix. You’re up late. Everything okay?”

She paused, not sure how much to tell her father. “I’ve broken it off with Ed.”

She pushed off from the counter and moved over to the kitchen table. She wasn’t sure what response she’d get, but she wanted to be sitting down.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Thanks for asking.”

“What about Ed?”

“He doesn’t know yet.”

She stood up and Paul moved to her side and hugged her.

“Good night, Daddy.”

Though he hugged his little girl, a young woman walked from the room.

He ran a hand across the back of his neck and it came away sweaty. He blinked away moisture. Was she still a virgin? So much had been exchanged in so few words. Trust, respect. He could feel his blood pressure rising. If that—that shit-for-brains had abused her in any way, he’d kill him.
 

Paul sat in one of the kitchen chairs, dropped his head in his hands, drew a ragged breath, and then sat up. A robber, a mugger—he could confront any criminal on the street. Even walk away injured and still feel powerful, in control. But dealing with the raw emotions of a female adolescent and he came away exhausted, whipped, and confused. His role was unclear. She hadn’t told Ed. At least now that the man-boy was on the outs, he wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells every time his name was mentioned.
 

Maybe that was it. Ed had been Amy’s decision and Paul had to bite his tongue, not question her judgment. Now, he could praise her new decision, though in such a way as not to condemn her earlier choice.

He’d have to let Claire in on the good news.

Rye gave a toot on the horn and Claire slid the big door open just enough for him to get the sidecar rig in.
 

It was a quiet night, though they were still on call until 6:00 am. In the last hours before their three days off, sleep was fleeting. Tonight was no different.

One of the first items they’d unpacked and assembled was the bed. It was imperative that they be able to sleep as much as possible between calls. It made all the difference in their level of alertness.

“Are you asleep?”

Claire rolled over and looked up at Rye who was propped up on one elbow, a sign that he wanted to talk.

“I was, but what’s on your mind?” She smiled. “Never mind that.”

Rye played along for a minute and dropped his gaze to her breasts, then caught himself. “Not what you think.”

She pulled the covers up to her chin like a virgin on her honeymoon. “Okay?”

“I can’t get the image of those girls walking around in a daze out of my head. Then Ed’s comment about date rape pills, trafficking, and all that.”

Claire couldn’t stay up on an elbow like her husband. It bothered her shoulder, so she rolled onto her back.
 

“Speaking of Ed: I made a few phone calls, learned that there is no Casino in Vegas being gutted.”

He rubbed his foot against hers. “I thought not.”

She rubbed back until she got a reaction and he was pushing and she was resisting. Kind of an arm wrestling with the feet. She always lost.
 

Rye shook his head. “The guy’s a predator. I don’t know why Paul puts up with the relationship.”

“I think Paul’s right. If he questioned her choice of boyfriend, he’d be questioning her judgment. Hell, she’s exploring her world.”

Claire pulled her foot away and rolled onto her left shoulder, putting her back to Rye.

“Yeah, well, it’s Paul’s responsibility to make sure she isn’t hurt while exploring.”

Rye dropped off his elbow onto his shoulder, reached around, and cupped her right breast. “Say, you’re a little hot about this.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. “I’m going to do a little research into this trafficking stuff. Got anything planned for our days off?”

“Funny you should ask.”
 

He loosened his grip on her breast in anticipation.
 

“I found a way to combine training requirements with community service.”
 

“What training requirements?”

 
She rolled onto her back again and let the covers fall away, though only to reveal the tops of her breasts, and placed her hands behind her head.