West of Nowhere (4 page)

“It’s okay. I’ll have it mopped up in no time.” Joy had opened the refrigerator to a mess because Amber forgot to secure the iced tea in the drink compartment.

There was still another half hour of daylight, but she liked checking into the RV park before dark. It was easier to handle the electrical and water hookups, and to get acclimated to the amenities, like the Wi-Fi network and the store. The amenity that mattered most was the shower, and she was looking forward to a hot one before bed.

Amber was sitting at the picnic table outside scrolling through Joy’s laptop for a listing of motels in Limon. Skippy’s leash was looped around her bench.

“Did you figure out how to get in touch with your friend?”

“Looks like they have about ten motels but I can’t tell which one is hers. I don’t think it’s one of the chains.”

“You should start calling them and asking if she works there. You’re welcome to use my phone.”

Joy chopped a small onion to brown with ground beef, and then stirred in a package of frozen chopped broccoli, a can of mushroom soup, water and rice. The savory dish took only twelve minutes on the stove. It was a simple recipe on the side of the rice bag, but Madison had suggested one final touch—grated cheese on top. Joy sprinkled it around and covered the pan so it would melt down through the dish.

“I need to walk over to the camp store for a couple of things. Want me to pick up some dog food?”

“I’ll come with you,” Amber said. She quickly untied Skippy’s leash from the bench and fell into step with Joy.

“You know, I probably should set that laptop inside the camper and lock up.” Even Madison, a fourth-grader, knew better than to leave valuables lying around in the open. “Might not be a bad idea to put Skippy in there too, since they don’t allow dogs in the store.”

At the store, she replenished her breakfast supplies, enough to last the rest of her trip, since she’d be dropping Amber in Limon the next day. Eating out of the camper instead of a restaurant would save her at least an hour a day, enough that if she pushed it, she might get into Oakland late Friday night. That would give her two full days to arrange home care for her dad.

Amber tapped her foot impatiently as the clerk, a dour-faced woman in stretch pants and mismatched floral top, took her time restocking a ChapStick display beside the cash register.

“Anything else?” the woman asked gruffly as she rang up the box of dog food.

“Pack of Marlboro Lights.” Amber caught the box as it slid off the counter after the woman’s careless toss. Her voice heavy with sarcasm, she added, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Joy shot her a wink when she turned and rolled her eyes.

“Will that be all?” the clerk barked to Joy.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you very much.” Joy counted out exact change and helped bag her groceries. Then she joined Amber on the porch, where she’d already lit a cigarette.

“I can’t believe you were so polite to that woman. What a crab!”

“When you grow up in a military household, respect for your elders gets drummed into you from the time you learn to speak.”

“My folks tried that with me but it didn’t take. Respect is something you have to earn.”

“I usually try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. It takes a lot less energy. Maybe I’d feel different if I had to put up with it all the time, but I figure we’ll be rolling out of here about eight o’clock tomorrow morning, so it doesn’t really accomplish anything to be rude.”

“Too bad she doesn’t see it that way.” Amber flicked the last of her cigarette onto the ground, its sparks scattering. “What time do you think we’ll get to Limon?”

“Around two, I think.” Joy tried to keep walking but couldn’t overcome the urge to grind the butt out and pick it up for proper disposal in the waste bin at their campsite. “I saw some kids walking around barefoot earlier. Wouldn’t want one of them to step on this.”

“You’re kind of big on cleaning up, aren’t you? Your folks must have been pretty strict.”

“Compared to some, I guess they were. Although my real training came when I was in the navy. Believe me, you learn real fast not to leave even a wrinkle in the sand. Every last detail has to be perfect.”

“Is that why you iron your T-shirts?”

Joy noted the teasing smirk and checked herself before responding defensively. “I’ll have you know I don’t iron my T-shirts. But if you take them out of the dryer when they’re still a little warm and fold them just right, they won’t get wrinkles. Any more questions?”

“So if someone wanted to torture you, all they’d have to do is wrinkle your clothes and drop cigarette butts everywhere.”

“I’m sure I could handle…you’re not going to do that, are you?”

Amber laughed for the first time all day. “I can see the headline now. Body dumped on Kansas roadside, clothing laundered and pressed. You’d make sure my hair was combed too, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. But it wouldn’t matter if your head was missing, would it?”

“I’ll try to be neater, since you’ve been so nice.” She smiled at Joy, showing off pretty white teeth. “I mean that, by the way. You’ve been really great. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t given me a ride.”

Joy decided against admitting that her conscience wouldn’t have allowed her just to drive off. She didn’t want Amber to test her limits.

When they returned to the camper, Skippy danced excitedly on his hind legs as Amber filled a small bowl with dry morsels. Joy dished out their dinner and set the plates on the small dinette. Though the circumstances were unusual, she had to admit she appreciated the company. Amber seemed a bit immature, but probably had seen tough times in her young life.

“Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do if things don’t work out in Limon?”

“They have to,” Amber said glumly. “There’s nothing to go home to in Nashville. No job, no place to live, not even a friend to help me out. That’s the way it is with the band. You’re either in or out, and once you’re out, it’s like you don’t even exist anymore. I’ve seen it happen to other girls over and over. Don’t know why I thought I’d be different.”

Joy didn’t want to let on that she’d overheard the whole conversation with Corey, but she was curious about the rift between Amber and her family. “And going back home isn’t an option?”

“No way. Your dad might have been strict, being in the military and all, but mine…he’s the biggest son of a bitch that ever lived.” She picked up Skippy and settled him in her lap as she ate. “He yelled at me about everything…school, what I wore, who my friends were. Mama, too. I couldn’t do anything right as far as they were concerned. I had this little dog, Coco. One of my friends gave her to me. She was mostly poodle, about the size of Skippy here…sweet as she could be. One night I stayed out later than I was supposed to…not much, maybe half an hour. When I got home, Coco was lying in the road, hit by a car. Mama said it was my fault…that Daddy threw her out the front door when I didn’t come home on time. They weren’t sorry or anything.”

“Unbelievable.”

“No shit. My boyfriend Archie was into electronics and a friend of his wanted him to come to Nashville and work on the sound crew with Rascal Flatts. That’s a pretty good gig, so we just took off. I left a note basically telling my parents to go fuck themselves, and that’s the last I ever saw of them.”

“Wow, that’s pretty heavy stuff.” Even though Joy couldn’t identify with her feelings, she understood perfectly why Amber had cut her family ties. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“One brother, six years older. Last I heard he was in jail for cooking meth. That was about three years ago.”

“Sounds like getting out of there was a good idea.”

“It was for me.” Amber pushed her plate away despite having eaten only half of what Joy had served. With a smirk that was now familiar, she asked, “So what’s your story? I’m guessing you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Not exactly my thing.”

“That’s because they’re all scared to death about what’ll happen if they accidentally drop a crumb on the floor. Maybe if you’d loosen up a little, they wouldn’t be so afraid.”

Apparently, Amber hadn’t grasped her message. “I don’t have a boyfriend because I don’t want a boyfriend. I’ve never wanted one and I never will. Now a girlfriend…that’s different. I wouldn’t mind having one of those.”

“Yeah, I figured that when I saw you doing those pull-ups. Not many of my straight girlfriends do that.” Again, she said it teasingly.

“Sounds like you need to get out more. You ought to see some of those women in the navy doing pull-ups. Some lesbian…some straight, but they all like proving they can do it.”

“I’d never be able to pull my chin up over a bar like that. I can hardly pull myself into your pickup truck.” Amber flexed her bicep, which barely registered.

“I bet you’d pass out on the obstacle course at boot camp. All the smokers were puking their guts out.”

Amber twirled the pack of cigarettes around on the table. “I’m going to quit one of these days. That might come sooner rather than later if I don’t get a job right away. These suckers are getting expensive.”

Joy was pleased at Amber’s reaction to the news about her being a lesbian, or rather, her nonreaction. One aspect of the navy she didn’t miss was the oppressive Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell rule, especially when she found herself working around people who would turn her in if she gave them the slightest bit of ammunition by talking about her girlfriend back home. The policy’s repeal had come too late for her, but at least she could now proudly proclaim her status as a gay veteran.

“I’m going to hit the bath house and then I have to make a few calls to the West Coast. I’ll leave my phone in case you want to call those motels in Limon.”

She removed her tidy toiletry bag, a towel and a change of clothes. Her wallet and keys were in her pocket, so the laptop and phone were the only items of value not locked up or stored where they would be hard to find. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Amber, but there was no reason to tempt her.

Though she’d had misgivings at first, having Amber along for the ride had made the day pass more quickly. Her fascination with the countryside was a lot like Madison’s, and they were halfway through Missouri when Amber confessed she’d never been west of Kentucky. She’d been looking forward to seeing the country on tour with Gus Holley. Now she was headed for a culture shock in Limon.

* * *

“…Right, Molly Jackson, from Tennessee.”

It had taken her six calls, but she finally found a motel owned by a family named Jackson—the Gateway Lodge. The clerk said Molly worked on the day shift.

“No, there’s no message. I might be passing through tomorrow, but I want to surprise her.”

She’d been thinking about Joy’s observation that jobs weren’t easy to come by, and thought it best to show up out of the blue. She didn’t want to risk having Molly tell her not to come. This way Molly would be so glad to see her that she’d find a way to let her stay, especially when she found out Amber had left Nashville for good and had nowhere else to go.

She lifted Skippy onto the picnic table and lit another cigarette, her third since Joy had gone to the shower. Before long, they’d turn in for the night and she’d have to do without until morning, even if she couldn’t get to sleep.

Sleeping arrangements tonight looked interesting. One bed, two people. And Joy was gay. Amber had already made up her mind it didn’t matter. If Joy had something in mind to make up for giving her a ride, she was okay with it. It wasn’t as if she had a problem sleeping with girls.

On the other hand, with the lousy day she’d had, Joy would probably expect her to sleep in the truck or on the floor by the kitchen sink. Whatever…it was only for one night. Maybe this time tomorrow, she’d be climbing into bed with Molly again. As far as she was concerned, they could pick up right where they left off as long as she got a place to stay. That was the story of her life—figuring out who could help her and how she could give them whatever they needed to keep her place secure. She wasn’t proud of it, but there weren’t many opportunities for women who didn’t have training and skills.

Harmony said the best thing about getting married to Wayne was not feeling like a prostitute anymore. Amber never thought of her situation with Corey as prostitution. To her, it was survival. She didn’t have sex with people who disgusted her. Corey was all right when he wasn’t drunk, and Archie had treated her fine until that whole fiasco with the baby.

If she had it to do over again, she would have followed Harmony’s lead and opened a business of her own. With the daycare, Harmony had a way to provide for herself and their son if her marriage to Wayne didn’t work out, and because she ran the business in her home, she always said she’d get to keep the house if they got a divorce. Amber should have taken advantage of her time with Corey and started her own pet-sitting or grocery delivery service. Then she would have had a job to go back to instead of climbing into a truck with a total stranger and heading out west to the middle of nowhere.

Joy returned, her dark wet hair slicked back behind her ears and her towel folded neatly over her arm. Wearing gray knit shorts and an Oakland A’s T-shirt—obviously what she slept in because her shirt wasn’t tucked in—she was a lot less intimidating. “Any luck?”

“Yeah, I think I found her. She works days so she should be there tomorrow afternoon.”

Amber studied her from behind as she entered the truck camper, thinking again about how she’d react if Joy expected something in return for the ride. She was the kind of person Amber normally found herself drawn to. It wasn’t her physical characteristics, though there was nothing about her that was a turnoff. It was her strength and independence. She looked like she could take care of herself…and maybe even someone else if she had a mind to. Except Joy would drive her crazy with all those persnickety habits.

When she went into the camper to get clean clothes and toiletries for the shower, she found the dinette folded down and the back cushions laid flat to make a second bed. Fresh sheets and a pillow were stacked neatly in the middle.