Driving With the Top Down (12 page)

Bitty felt his warm, hard chest on her back. She wasn’t going to go all the way with him. Not tonight. Not next week. Not anytime in the foreseeable future. Bitty had been holding on to her virginity like a child held on to a security blanket. Everyone who knew her knew that. Even then, it had seemed kind of quaint, old-fashioned, and more annoying than anything else.

But this was a start, at least. She was open to Blake. Open to the idea of him. She was touching him and not tightening her mouth into a hard judgmental line and walking away from this.

So there was hope.

Maybe Bitty would fall in love and get her happily-ever-after after all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Colleen

The iced tea from the diner kicked in pretty quickly, and they went right on past Rocky Mount, then detoured off 95 south into Raleigh, North Carolina. Thanks to some nimble-fingered Yelp work on Tamara’s part, reading descriptions and clicking in numbers, they had reservations at a place called the Velvet Cloak Inn. Colleen had insisted they give it a try because the place sounded much more appealing than any ordinary La Quinta or Motel 6 on the highway.

Tamara sat in one of the high-backed
Alice in Wonderland
–type chairs in the lobby as Colleen checked in and got the key.

Next to her, Bitty was trying to get her own room.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, without some form of identification and a credit card guarantee, I’m not able to give you a room,” the poor hapless clerk was telling Bitty. He looked like the kind of kid whose face was always kind of red, but it was absolutely blooming now in response to Bitty.

“Do I need to talk to your manager?” Bitty asked. “Because I don’t believe you are allowed to be prejudiced against a person simply because they opt not to be licensed drivers and have the good sense not to get caught up in the mire of credit cards.”

“But if something were to happen to the room—”

Bitty stepped back and splayed her arms. “What do I look like I’m going to do to a hotel room? Do I look like some raunchy rock star who’s going to trash the place?”

“Well, you could get porn all night and not pay-per-view it,” Colleen said with a smile.

Bitty shot her a look. “Not helpful.”

The young clerk’s face grew even redder. “We’re not able to turn the pay-per-view options off.”

“I’m not going to be watching pay-per-view!” She gave Colleen a
See what you started?
look that Colleen actually recognized from the old days.

“Bitty, why don’t you just stay in our room with us? I’ve got two queen beds and a daybed—there’s plenty of room.”

“Thank you,” Bitty answered in a controlled tone. “But there is no legal reason why I can’t get a room. I have enough cash to pay for it.”

The clerk excused himself to go speak with his manager, and Colleen imagined he would be swabbing his forehead plenty as well, since he didn’t look like he was very comfortable with conflict. Little place like this, it wasn’t surprising. They probably got plenty of guests, but they were probably all just weary travelers looking to rest for a few hours before hitting the road again. Or drunk kids looking to stay within a cheap cab ride of downtown.

They were the weary travelers. And only five and a half hours from home.

A beefy man came out of the back, wiping what appeared to be chicken wing grease from the corners of his mouth. The clerk was behind him, looking like a child in comparison.

“Ma’am? I understand there’s a problem?”

“There is,” Bitty said, “but I don’t understand it. I need a room for the night. Not even for the night, for a few hours. And I’m being told that because I don’t drive or rack up debt, I’m ineligible.”

This was getting ridiculous. Colleen knew this look, this tone. Bitty was standing on a principle now, not arguing for anything that actually mattered.

“No license or state ID, no credit card for incidentals, no room,” the man said, and honestly, there was clearly no arguing with him. Even if Bitty had a point—and she kind of did—it was really obvious that this guy wasn’t in the mood for it and he wasn’t likely to care what the legal technicalities were; he just wanted to get back to whatever greasy stuff he was eating in the back.

“Bitty, I’m serious, come to our room with us. We’re all tired, and this is going to go on forever if you fight it—and you’re still not going to win.”

Bitty glanced self-consciously at the clerk and manager. She didn’t like to lose either.

But Colleen didn’t care. “You’re never going to be back here again, just give it up for now. We’ll figure out the lost cards tomorrow. Come on.”

Bitty sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to keep you up all night, and I know you won’t go to bed as long as I’m standing here.”

“That’s right.”

“But I’m not pleased. I’ll definitely be writing a letter to the owner of this place. Which I will never visit again.”

Colleen almost laughed at the look of relief on the clerk’s face. The manager, on the other hand, looked like he just could not care less.

The room was less interesting than the description Tamara had read to her, and certainly less elaborate than the lobby would have suggested. The two queen beds clearly dipped in the middle, under thin linens and bedspreads that looked like the cheap “bed in a bag” sets sold at discount stores. There was a vanity with two yellowed sinks at the end of the room, embellished by a mirror that was going black in spots, and the toilet and shower—more accurately a “shoilet”—were closed off by a flimsy particleboard door. There were small chipped tiles on the floor and an ill-fitting plastic bathtub cover that must have been what they meant by “recently renovated.”

Clearly all the motel’s funds had gone into creating an illusion in the public areas, because the room may as well have been in any dinky roadside chain lodging in the world. But it was clean, and had two queen-size beds and a daybed, as promised.

They’d started to get ready for bed, shoes off, bras slipped out from under shirts, teeth brushed, when Bitty pulled Colleen aside. “Do you think I could borrow your car for just a few minutes? I need to run to the store to get a few things. I noticed there was a CVS when we pulled off the exit.”

“Oh.” Colleen hesitated, and then felt stupid for hesitating. What could the harm be? “Yeah, of course. Are you comfortable driving with the trailer hooked on? I could take you, if you want.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Bitty said quickly. “Can’t be nearly as bad as driving a horse trailer with two spooked mares in the back.”

“No, I guess not.” There wasn’t much in the trailer yet, so there wouldn’t be any shifting loads. Why not? What was she worried about? She took the keys out of her bag and tossed them to Bitty, who caught them with surprising agility.

“Thanks. I’ll be back soon.” Then, seemingly an afterthought, “Do you need anything?”

Colleen had brought every single thing she could think of for every possible eventuality. She was prepared for an unexpected menstrual period or a tsunami. “No, I’m good. Tamara?”

“Nope.”

“All right, then. Thanks for everything.” With that, Bitty left the room.

Thanks for everything?

Almost a full minute passed before either Colleen or Tamara spoke.

Finally Tamara broke the silence. “So she’s super weird.”

Colleen thought she should defend Bitty, respond with something adult and appropriate, but she didn’t know what to say. Bitty may as well be a stranger now. She didn’t know her anymore. She’d just given her her car and her trailer, ignoring the pit-of-the-stomach feeling that told her not to. She looked at Tamara, whom she was charged with taking care of, and gave a slow nod. “She wasn’t always.” And she sincerely, sincerely hoped there was nothing to worry about now.

“Did something, like … happen to her?”

Colleen shrugged. “Hard to say. I mean, she didn’t live through a massacre or anything. That I know of.” And no, she was pretty certain Bitty hadn’t literally lived through a massacre, but what had she endured? What was her life now that she had become such a narrow little spooked thing? Or had she always been that, except during some drunken, carefree college days when Colleen just happened to have known her?

“You said she was your college best friend, though, right?” Tamara looked as if she were really trying to puzzle this out. “How come you guys aren’t friends anymore?”

“Kind of hard to explain.” It really was, Colleen thought to herself. What happens to friendships that you thought at the time were going to last forever, but which fell away, all but unnoticed? “We just lost touch somewhere along the way. Moved in different directions.”

“Did you know her husband, or did he come later?”

“I met him a few times. He was a grad student doing some intern stuff when we were in our last semester.”

“What’s he like?”

Colleen tried to imagine how Tamara would envision Bitty’s husband. A tall, handsome Disney Gaston, or a meek Walter Mitty? “He was nice enough. Polite, anyway. Very wealthy, his family basically owned his hometown. Pretty smart. Not incredibly hot, but nice-looking, in a soap opera–actor sort of way. I think anyone would have said he was good husband material. A catch. And she came from a good family too, so they were a good pair.
Suited,
as they say.”

“Then … why’s she running away?”

“Running away?”

“Yeah. I mean … right? Her story’s all over the place, she’s a rich lady with no credit cards, she got her car stolen but she’s not freaking out about it.… I mean … She’s obviously a total runaway right now.”

As soon as Tamara had said it, Colleen wondered why that possibility hadn’t occurred to her. She had taken Bitty’s excuse at face value.

To think of her—or any woman their age—“running away” just seemed crazy.

She couldn’t buy it. “I don’t know that she’s running away. It just sounded like Lew made plans without her, so she wanted to do the same back at him. Keep him on his toes. I could understand that. The poor thing just must not have a lot of good friends she could confide in, or who could take off at a moment’s notice with her.”

“Think there’s a reason for that?”

“She lets very few people in. She’s got a guard up. She always has.”

Tamara raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

“Then you understand we shouldn’t push her on it.” Colleen watched her, unsure if she should ask more or let it go. Tamara clicked on her phone, and it became clear the moment was gone.

The two of them got ready for bed, and then clicked on the TV. A rerun of
Saturday Night Live
was on.

Colleen looked at her own phone. Bitty had been gone almost an hour. To the pharmacy down the block. That seemed like a long time.

Tamara, evidently noticing it had been a while too, said, “Do you think you should call her or something? Seems weird it’s taking so long, right?”

“I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“Hopefully she didn’t steal your car and camper thing.”

“Tamara! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just kidding.”

Of course, Colleen was starting to have the same kind of thoughts. Which was dumb, because even though she didn’t know the inner workings of Bitty’s mind today, once upon a time, she had known her well, and she couldn’t imagine that her friend’s moral fiber had changed so much. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I just hope she didn’t get lost.”

Colleen did know it was not like Bitty to get lost. She was a competent handler of things. If she was taking this long, it was on purpose.

“If she did, she could ask directions.”

“That’s right.”

A little more time passed. Probably not much. But as soon as Colleen realized Bitty had been gone for too long, every minute seemed like an eternity, adding to the oddness and making her feel stranded. She had always hated going anywhere and being without her car in case she needed to leave, and now she was in some nothing town, miles from home, with no way out except to believe in someone she hadn’t known for more than a decade.

When Colleen looked at the clock for perhaps the thousandth time, she felt Tamara’s gaze turn to her, hitting her cheek like a laser.

“Why don’t you just call her?” Tamara asked. “If you’re embarrassed for her to know you don’t trust her, then just pretend you need tampons or something and ask her to pick them up.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tamara pushed. “I’m sure she’d get why you’re like, ‘Hey, where’s my car?’”

“I don’t have her number.”

CHAPTER NINE

Bitty

Dear Stranger,

So far, suicide isn’t working out very well. I had my plan in place, stopped for some good old comfort food at Henley’s as a good-bye—because, who cares? I figured I wouldn’t have time to get fat from it. If anything, it would just back up the illusion that my death was a tragic mistake—you’re the only one who knows better now—because the autopsy would reveal I was full of fried chicken, sweet potato fries, real vanilla Coke, and coconut cream pie.

“She didn’t do this on purpose,” they’d say. “Look at this, she was clearly happy. No one kills themselves after Henley’s coconut cream pie!”

But the best-laid plans … you know. Obviously I couldn’t go through with my plan, because, of all things, my car got stolen. Apparently, an old XJS isn’t that hard to hot-wire. People used to trust each other more and security systems weren’t built in till fairly recently. This is what I’ve learned from Googling it on my phone. But I have to point out, I did lock it. But I guess this Podunk town doesn’t see a lot of Jaguars driving through, so it was conspicuous. If anyone can hot-wire anything, it’s a bored country boy.

So that was that. Car gone, and with it, the five thousand dollars I’d stored before in my safe at home. I have about $240 in my wallet now, which, to be honest, would have been enough anyway, since I wasn’t planning on being around that long, but it’s nice to know you have the resources to go out in style.

Instead I ended up trapped in my college diner with no hope until—miracle or catastrophe?—Colleen Wilcox showed up. Colleen Bradley, now. Blast from the past. I could tell she didn’t recognize me at first, and when she made the offer to take me to Florida, she wasn’t really sure it was a good idea. Especially since I’m not all that fast on my feet as a liar, so she had to doubt my story about Lew being off with the boys.