Calamity Jayne Heads West (15 page)

“What are you talking about?” Townsend asked.

“Oh, just a little, ole, nagging double standard, that’s all,” I replied.

“What do you mean, double standard?” Townsend asked.

I looked at him for a long second. Did I really want to get into this tonight? I shrugged. “Just that for the last year I’ve listened to you lecture me on my ‘trust’ issues, on how I don’t open up to you, how I keep you out of the loop, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, but you don’t seem to realize you do the same thing to me. Hello! You’ve kept me in the dark so much I’m con-sidering training Butch and Sundance as seeing-eye dogs! I’m pretty sure that trust thing is supposed to work both ways,” I told him. “At least, that’s how it works with me,” I said, and walked out of the pool area and headed for the front door.

“Where the hell are you going, Tressa? It’s after two. Let me get you a room at least.”

“No, thank you. Kooky and I have had more than enough of Townsend hospitality to last us for quite some time,” I said. “We’re going home to the sofa bed.” I blew Rick a kiss. “Sleep well, Mr. Ranger, sir. I do hope Joe’s prostate won’t wake you every hour on the hour ’til morning and that phlegm factory from down the hall doesn’t come banging on your door at dawn. Sweet dreams!” I said, preparing to make my escape.

“Oh, hello! I see your girlfriend found you.” The hotel receptionist, Tiffany, hailed Ranger Rick from across the lobby. “She was really quite concerned, you know, when she came in looking for you. Said it could be a matter of life or death, so I gave her the key to your room. I hope that was all right.” She looked at our saturated heads and the dampness seeping through our clothing. “Is it raining out?”

Townsend stared at me for a second and looked over at Tiffany. “My ‘girlfriend’ here told you she needed to find me because it was a matter of life and death?” Townsend asked.

Tiffany nodded. “Uh, it was, wasn’t it? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? She is your girlfriend. Right? Your nephew confirmed it.”

Townsend looked back at me. His gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s my girlfriend. The daft woman just doesn’t realize it yet.”

I gave myself a hard pinch and Kookamunga a big squeeze and ran like hell before I fell over the edge and into Townsend’s arms.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I managed to replace Aunt Kay’s car—if not the petrol I’d used—without anyone being the wiser. Well, ex-cept for Sophie, that is. It’s kind of hard to crawl into one-half of a sofa bed without rousing the occupant of the other half.

“So? Did you take that leap of faith?” Sophie asked. “Or maybe I should say jump of faith, as in jumping the handsome ranger’s bones,” she added. “And I warn you, I want details.”

I pulled the covers up to my neck and sighed. “You ever heard, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak?” I asked. “Well, change that to ‘the spirit was willing but the flesh was wrinkled’ and that about sums up this night’s romantic activities. And trust me on this one, Sophie, if you want to avoid disturbing images in your head for the rest of your days, you don’t want the details.”

She sniffed. “Do I smell chlorine?”

“Go to sleep, Sophie,” I said. I closed my eyes anddreamed of silk jammies, wet, naked chests, and phallus-shaped hat hooks.

It seemed like only minutes later when someone tugged on my arm. “You awake? You need to get out of this bed and get movin’.”

I rolled over. “I swear I won’t tell a soul, Joe,” I mum-bled. “It’s our little secret.”

“Secret? What secret? Is Joe keepin’ secrets fromme?”

The pulling on my arm became vigorous shaking. I opened one protesting eyeball. My grandma stood over me.

“Huh?”

“You said you and Joe were keeping secrets. Is he having a last fling before the wedding?” she asked.

That got my other eye open. I so didn’t want the dis-tinction of being Joltin’ Joe’s final fling.

“Of course not,” I said, trying to figure out what lit-tle fib might pacify her.

“Then what’s the secret?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, would it?” I said, putting the covers aside and swinging my feet over the side of the bed.

She got a gleam in her eye.

“It’s a secret wedding gift, isn’t it?” she said. “I knew it. The sweet, sweet man.”

I managed a weak smile. Crap. I hoped Joe had thought about a wedding gift for his hellion bride.

I put a hand to my lips. “Shhh!” I said.

“You better get going. The rest of us are almost ready,” she said.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“Wedding dress shopping. I need a new one, re-member? We’re going down to Sedona. Sophie says there are lots of fancy-shmancy boutiques down there. I’m thinkin’ this may be the last wedding dress I’ll buy,and I figure it’s okay to splurge.” She looked at me. “What do you think?”

I stood and gave her a hug. “Go for it, Gram,” I said, squeezing her shoulders.

She patted my back. “You’re a good girl, Tressa Jayne,” she said. “Don’t know diddly about men, but a good girl. Maybe too good.”

“Thanks, Gram,” I said. “I love you, too.” I padded over to my suitcase, spotted my backpack, and turned to Gram. “You said you were going to Sedona.”

She nodded. “We’re taking Ben’s car. It’ll hold all of us.”

“You, me, Taylor, Sophie, and Kimmie.”

“Aunt Kay’s not coming?” I asked.

Gram shook her head. “I’d end up with another old-lady dress if she did,” she said.

Oak Creek Canyon was on the way to Sedona. As well as a certain souvenir stand, if I wasn’t mistaken. Regardless of the skeptical ranger, I was still convinced there was a connection between the recent thefts and break-in and the statue I’d purchased roadside. The shopping expedition would give me an opportunity to question the vendors about how they acquired the fer-tility fellow in the first place, and to find out who had put the hold on Kookamunga. Then maybe I’d know once and for all if I was on to something here or blow-ing smoke. Either way, I’d know for sure. And knowl-edge, as I was so often reminded, was power.

I showered the chlorine out of my hair and scrubbed away all traces of my previous dead-of-the-night activities. I only wished I could wash off the memory of Townsend’s lips on my neck as easily.

I stuck my face under the pulsating showerhead and sang off-key, “I’m gonna wash that man right outta myhair. I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair.” I groaned. If only all it took was salon shampoo and a detangler, I’d be home free.

I dressed in blue jeans, a pair of tan Skechers with maroon stripes, one of my trademark cowgirl T-shirts, this one with the slogan,
Rodeo Chicks Love Horsin’
Around
, and grabbed my wardrobe-staple zippered sweatshirt and my backpack and headed upstairs.

Everyone was gathered in the family room off the back of the kitchen. I snared a cinnamon roll from a plate in the kitchen on my way through.

“Here she is,” Gram said. “It’s about time. What’d you do? Take time to shave? We’re burnin’ daylight here.”

I colored, avoiding eye contact with my dad and un-cle. “It took longer than I thought to get the chlorine out of my hair,” I said before I thought. Something I do way too frequently, I’m afraid.

“Chlorine? How did you get chlorine in your hair?” my sister Taylor asked with an intrigued look on her face.

“Did I say chlorine? I meant conditioner. I did a five-minute conditioning treatment,” I said. “Split ends, you know.”

Taylor shook her head.

“Time’s a-wastin’,” Gram said. “I got me a wedding dress to buy.”

Aunt Kay stood. “Now remember, Mother, a wed-ding is a solemn occasion,” she said. “And you’ll be making memories—not to mention a photographic record—of this day to cherish for years to come. So, select your attire accordingly.” Aunt Kay’s expression was reminiscent of mine when I got roped into attend-ing a senior-citizen Halloween costume party.

“That’s the idea,” Gram said with a nod. “I want to make a statement for posterior,” she stated.

“Uh, I think you mean posterity, Mother,” Aunt Kay said.

“You make the kind of statement you want and I’ll make the kind of statement I want,” Gram responded.

I smiled. Oh, what a day it promised to be. I noticed Kimmie packing saltines for the trip.

“What’s with the crackers, Kimmie?” I asked.

“They’re just in case any of us experience the same bug Taylor had,” Kimmie explained.

I blinked. “Bug? What bug? You mean Taylor’s air-sickness?” I said.

“I’m not convinced it was due to air-sickness,” Taylor said. “More likely, it was a bug. You know how un-healthy that recirculated air on those planes is.”

“Are you kidding?” I looked at Kimmie. “Taylor has a history of chronic and virulent motion sickness that dates back to preschool. She used to puke on the merry-go-round. She couldn’t even do the hokey-pokey without getting dizzy,” I said.

“I think you exaggerate, Tressa,” Taylor said.

“I think I don’t. Remember how you always got to sit in the front seat on family trips because you’d get sick if you sat in back?” I countered.

“I grew out of that,” Taylor insisted.

“Oh really? Then why’d Aunt Kay have to stop so of-ten on the way to Flag from Phoenix? Or are you gonna blame it all on an old lady’s bladder?” I said.

“What old lady?” Gram asked.

“Are we ready to go?” Sophie spoke up. When I nodded, she said, “Then let’s load up. I’m driving. Who wants to ride up front with me?”

I raised my hand. “Since Taylor no longer suffers from her motion malady, I’d like to know what it feels like to ride up front for a change,” I said. “Taylor can sit in back. That is, if you don’t want to ride up front, Gram—so you can see better.”

“See what better? I’ve got me a
People
magazine to look at. Saw some dresses from the Oscars that I want to take a closer look at. Don’t need to be up front to do that. Besides, Sophie’ll be concentrating on her driving, and I’ll have to twist my head around to visit anyway, so I might as well be in back to begin with,” she said.

“So, we’re all good to go,” I said, sending a bright smile in Taylor’s direction and getting a glare for my effort as we piled into the SUV. “We’re off on the road to Sedona,” I sang.

“Sounds like a Bing Crosby/Bob Hope movie,” Gram observed.

“Bing who?” I teased, and she gave me a cross look.

“Kids these days,” she said.

Sophie took the quickest route to Sedona, via I-17 and Schnebly Hill Road, so I didn’t have an opportu-nity to watch for the roadside souvenir stand. I figured I’d try to convince Sophie to let me borrow Uncle Ben’s vehicle and I’d take a quick drive up Highway 89A and see if I could locate the traveling sales van. If all else failed, I’d ask Sophie to take the alternative route back and keep a sharp lookout as we drove.

We arrived in Sedona just as the shops were open-ing. Sophie, being familiar with the area, had made a list of boutiques for Gram to visit in her search for the knock-the-groom-dead dress. I figured now was a good time to take my own little mini-sightseeing side trip. If we stopped on the way home, Gram would most likely find out about Kookamunga and spoil the surprise. And I was determined this was one gift she wouldn’t know about ahead of time.

“Uh, Sophie, you don’t mind if I take Uncle Ben’s truck just down the road a piece? I’d like to replace my John Wayne bobble head while I’m in the area,” I said.

She frowned. “You want to drive my uncle’s car?” sheasked. “Didn’t you borrow your Uncle Frank’s SUV a couple months back and wreck it?” The uneasy look in her eyes told me it was going to be a tough sale.

“Define ‘wreck,’ ” I said. “Because I’m thinking tech-nically you have to be behind the wheel of an automo-bile to be in a wreck. The vehicle in question was parked, and I was actually standing in front of the ve-hicle at the time and a pickup sideswiped the Subur-ban and took off, so it really wasn’t a wreck per se,” I explained.

“Hit and run then. I feel so much better,” Sophie said. I winced.

“I’m just driving up the highway ten miles or so and right back,” I said. “Jeesh. It’s not like I’m taking it four-wheelin’ cross-country.”

“And a bobble head is that important to you?” she pressed.

“Duh. It’s John Wayne,” I said, as if that would ex-plain my urgency.

Sophie bit her lip. “You can get your bobble head, but I’m driving,” she said. “You forget. I’ve heard the stories. And last night I saw up close and personal how things have a tendency to get out of hand when you feel passionate about something,” she told me.

“Are we talking about Rick Townsend again, be-cause I’ll have you know—”

Sophie shook her head. “Ever heard the phrase ‘fig-ure of speech’?” she asked. “Sheesh, you do have it bad. Come on.”

We assigned Kimmie and Taylor the morning shift with Gram, and after promising we’d meet for lunch at the Oak Creek Grill at noon and relieve them so they could have the afternoon off, we set out.

“So, what really happened with you and Rick after you two left Numbers last night?” Sophie asked.

“History repeated itself,” I grumbled. Staring outthe window I wasn’t seeing the breathtaking scenery, but instead Rick Townsend as he’d appeared last night in the pool. Like a god from Atlantis. Sleek, hot and wet. Fan me.

“Tressa?”

“We kissed, real life intervened, we kissed some more, real life intervened, we disagreed, we called it a night.”

“That sucks,” Sophie said.

“How about you? How’d it go with Tristan?” I asked, and noted the color appear in the cheek nearest me. “He seemed very nice.”

“He is,” she said. “Very.”

“Cute, too,” I said.

“That, too,” Sophie replied.

“Come on, Soph, give me something here!” I said, frustrated. “Is it serious? Where did you meet him? Do you love the guy?” I leaned across the seat. “Have you been
intimate?”

She gave me a
good gawd
look and shook her head.

“I think we’d better change the subject,” she said, and I shrugged.

“You brought it up,” I pointed out.

“I did, didn’t I?” she acknowledged, and gave her own cheek a soft slap. “Don’t know what I was think-ing,” she said. “I guess I just got carried away. I’ve never had a sister to discuss personal girl stuff with. And apparently, I’m more comfortable eliciting that information from others than I am sharing my own. At least at present.”

I nodded. “That’s cool. I spent years filling my ré-sumé as a ditzy blond bimbo and I’m trying to update now. Change hasn’t come easy. Kicking and screaming is more like it,” I told her. “But I figure eventually the upgrade will be complete. Having a job you love helps. You really want to be taken seriously—and try to takefull advantage of all opportunities that come your way that aid in your personal metamorphosis.”

Sophie nodded. “Like dead bodies, crazy clowns, reclusive writers and campus crooks?” she suggested.

I nodded. “I’m an equal opportunity opportunist,” I said. She smiled.

“Journalists live for truth, then. Right?”

“The respectable ones do,” I said.

“Then level with me. This little excursion is about more than a John Wayne bobble head, isn’t it?” Sophie said. “So, what is it really about?”

I chewed my lip. Although Sophie knew all about the Kooky wedding gift, I didn’t much relish receiving the same reaction from her I did from Ranger Rick Townsend when I’d laid out for him my suspicions re-garding Kookamunga.

“If I tell you, you have to promise me one thing,” I said.

She frowned. “What’s that?”

“If you think I’m completely bonkers, don’t let on. Just smile and nod and say something like, ‘I see’ or ‘I understand.’ That way there won’t be any hard feel-ings,” I pointed out.

She nodded. “I see,” she said. “I understand.”

“I haven’t told you yet!” I said.

“I want to make sure I have it down. Okay. I’m ready,” she said.

But was I? I shrugged. What did it matter? In a couple of days I’d be on a cruise ship on an ocean far, far away.

“Keep in mind, I’m a professional journalist and have had some success in following hunches,” I told her, and proceeded to fill her in on my theory about how the incidents at Oak Creek Canyon, the night-club, and the burglary at her own house were all re-lated. She processed the information in silence.

Or make that shock and awe. Her eyes didn’t leave the roadway. I finally reached over and poked her.

“Soph?”

“Give me a minute,” she said, and I obliged.