Once Upon a Road Trip (41 page)

“Do people always drive like this?” she asked, after someone on a motorcycle took to the center line and raced past her window.

“Pretty much.” Vince’s answer was nonchalant, though he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “It’s nice for getting in on time, but when there’s a wreck, it’s really bad. I’ve sat at a dead stop for hours some days.”

Angie forced herself to look more relaxed than she felt. She was confident he knew what he was doing, but she didn’t have any reason to trust the rest of the commuters, who all seemed under the delusion that they were driving for NASCAR.

She stole a quick glance at Vince’s intent profile again, remembering their kiss the night before. Thus far, he was acting like it hadn’t happened. While he hadn’t reverted back to complete aloofness, they’d hardly spoken since his alarm went off that morning. Part of her was relieved, but another part of her that thought perhaps she should bring it up. But talking about it could be interpreted as encouraging — and she couldn’t risk doing that to him.

If he was keeping to himself, then he likely acknowledged that the whole thing had been a mistake. And while there was something dimly painful about that, she knew it was for the best. She just hoped that the remainder of her stay wouldn’t be awkward for either of them.

Angie minded her surroundings as the car’s transmission began to protest a steep mountain incline. Eighteen-wheelers fell into a sluggish line in the far right lane, unable to keep up under the strain. The climb lasted for well over a mile before they reached the crest and began a coasting descent.

The view into the valley was breathtaking in the morning light. Thick patches of forest spread out for miles in all directions, intermingled with the urban sprawl. Rather than merely carving out space for itself, the city appeared to have grown up conforming to the lay of the land. Beside the highway, Angie made out rock  formations and sheets of earth that had sloughed downward in miniature mudslides. The bold, rust-red coloration of the stones and soil stood out — she was in the heart of the Alabama iron belt.

Vince glanced over and caught her stifling a yawn. “I can fix that.”

“You can fix the fact that I had to get up at five-thirty in the morning?” Angie smirked. She’d never been an early riser, and Vince’s lifestyle of minimal food and sleep was starting to take a toll on her.

“Absolutely,” he said, veering the car down an exit ramp. “The culinary branch of my school has an awesome bakery, and I get a discount. It’s just a few blocks from my office.”

Angie sat up eagerly once they’d pulled into the parking lot of the Cullinard Bakery. The rich scent of coffee, cinnamon, and fresh bread invaded the car before they’d even opened the doors. Her stomach burbled in approval. She heard Vince laugh and looked over to find him watching her, eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.

“I’m going to start feeding you better, I swear.” He got out and walked around the car. By the time she’d unbuckled and fished her handbag off of the floorboard, he’d opened her door for her. She thanked him this time, while reminding herself not to become too partial to the custom.

Ten minutes later, Angie followed Vince into an office tower with a double mocha in one hand, her other arm loaded down with three enormous muffins. She’d polished off a blueberry scone in the car. Vince had insisted on buying her every pastry she’d shown the slightest interest in — apparently in an effort to make up for his sporadic eating patterns. As far as she was concerned, it was working.

The Alabama State government building was an unassuming, four-story concrete structure, poised at the top of one of the steepest foothills overlooking the valley. Angie hung back as she followed Vince inside, unsure of what to expect from his place of employment.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to be here?” she asked as they approached a small lobby where empty chairs lined the walls.

“Sure,” Vince said, casting her a smile over his shoulder. “I cleared it with my bosses weeks ago. Besides, they have interns come in to observe all the time.” He crossed the lobby to a Plexiglass-enclosed help desk. Behind it sat a squat, ungainly man who appeared to be in his late thirties. His thinning black hair was cut short and professional, well coordinated with a pale blue dress shirt and brown-and-blue striped tie. But Angie barely noticed the ensemble, thanks to the coke bottle glasses that stood out as his most prominent accessory.

“Hey, Owl.” Vince greeted the man. “How was business this weekend?”

Owl gave a slow smile as he looked up from the switchboard. “Oh, not too bad. Got a nice tip from the wedding I told you about. I had a little trouble running things through my laptop, though. You think you could take a look at it for me later?” His articulation was precise, but his deep voice came out monotone. “Oh, hello there.” He nodded once to Angie when he noticed her.

“I’ll see what I can do. Bring it by on break,” Vince said, motioning to Angie then in introduction. “Owl, this is Angeli—the friend from Minnesota I told you about. You mind letting her come and go if she needs to?”

“That’s no problem.” Owl nodded again to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you.” Angie smiled, giving the man a small wave. As Vince cut to the right, she followed him through a gray steel door into a maze of hallways and cubicles. Once the door had closed behind them she whispered, “His name is Owl?”

Vince chuckled. “No, it’s Jerry. He’s just capitalizing on his DJ persona. I guess it was his nickname back in the day, and he made the best of it. He’s always had pretty bad vision.” He motioned to his own glasses.

“Ah,” she said, pausing at a hallway intersection to let a woman in a wheelchair go by.

As they rounded the corner, Angie noted a middle-aged man coming down the hall toward them. Tall and dark-skinned, the man approached while sweeping a thin white cane back and forth in front of his feet. His chin lifted as though he were looking upward, though his rounded sunglasses made it impossible to gauge their actual direction of focus. Wearing a faint, perpetual smile, he projected an uncanny confidence. The tip of his cane hovered just off of the floor, giving the walls an occasional tap as he walked.

“Good morning, Mr. Gill,” Vince called out to announce their approach, coming to a halt just ahead of the man’s cane.

“Well, good morning to you!” Gill exclaimed with vigor, stopping to angle himself in Vince’s general direction. “And thank you again for your assistance last week. I was about ready to chunk that printer out the window! That’s assuming the windows here open. Do they open? You know, I’ve never tried—” He rattled on in an easy, conversational tone. His jovial voice carried an edge of Alabama drawl to it, muddled with something that Angie guessed to be East Coast in origin.

“You’re more than welcome.” Vince laughed. “I brought a friend along to shadow me for the day. Mr. Gill, this is Angeli.” He looked to Angie as he spoke, guiding the man’s attention in her direction. He then explained for her benefit, “Mr. Gill is one of our guidance counselors.”

“Angeli. Now there’s a lovely name.” Gill switched his cane to his left hand and extended his right out in offering. “Vincent mentioned you before, I believe. So glad you made it here safe and sound. Has this young man been treating you well?” 

Angie handed her coffee off to Vince and grasped Gill’s hand. “Thank you. Yes, sir,” she answered, trying to keep up with his steady stream of chit-chat. The man’s thick fingers flexed around her hand in a prolonged, assessing manner.

“Voice of an angel, and she’s even willing to lie for you. How’d you ever get so lucky?” Gill took on a broad, teasing grin as he turned his face back in Vince’s direction. He released Angie’s hand and stacked it with the other around the handle of his cane.

Vince glanced at Angie before clearing his throat and changing the subject. “How was your birthday, Mr. Gill?”

“Oh, it was fine,” Gill said. “A few of my friends took me to a gentleman’s club.”

Vince’s copper-colored brows lofted in surprise. “…they took a blind man to a gentleman’s club?”

“Yes, that bunch find themselves awfully hilarious at times,” Gill replied. “I got the last laugh, though. I got us thrown out.”

“And…how’d you manage that?”

“I asked the waitress if I could Braille her.” Gill held up a hand and splayed his fingers, grinning wryly. “Her boss was fit to be tied. Evidently, they don’t make exceptions on their ‘no touching’ policy. He came over and I got to arguing with him about how his establishment wasn’t properly accommodating the differently-abled. The next thing I knew, some large fellah had me by the back of my belt and they hauled all of us out the door. I don’t think they quite believed that I’m blind. Ha!” His voice jumped an octave at the last syllable and he rocked forward into an unbridled belly laugh.

Angie covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. She wasn’t sure which she found funnier — the man’s story, or the unusual sound of his laughter.

A grin crept across Vince’s face and he shook his head. Before he could speak he was interrupted by a shrill, feminine voice coming from the cubical to his right.

“What’s all this racket about? These are office hours, people!” A plump, diminutive woman appeared in the open “doorway” of the work space, hands planted on her hips. Her burgundy-dyed hair featured blunted bangs and was pinned back—teased to a comical height at the crown of her head. She pursed thin lips and cocked her head to one side as she surveyed Angie. “Who’s she?”

Though the thirty-something woman couldn’t have stood an inch over five feet, the abrasiveness of her voice was enough to make Angie want to shrink behind Vince.

“No one you need concern yourself with, Miss Deena,” Gill piped up, angling himself in the woman’s direction. “Say, aren’t you in charge of the company picnic this year? As a concerned employee, I would like to know the precise origin and ingredients of the potato salad. I have an allergy, you see, and last year’s recipe had my head swelling up like a Macy’s Day balloon. Or so I’m told.” He tapped the tip of his cane to the ground between his feet.

Vince signaled Angie with his eyes and eased around behind Gill, continuing down the hall while the brusque woman was distracted. “Thank you Mr. Gill,” he said, almost under his breath.

Angie caught up to Vince in a few swift steps, concern gnawing at her stomach. “Is she one of your bosses?” she whispered.

“Deena? Nooo,” he stressed, then gave a short laugh. “She’s a secretary, like me. They just let her think she’s in charge of a few things to keep her off everyone’s back.”

“So, Gill just took one for the team?”

“Yep. Now I owe him.” Vince smirked, cutting into the farthest right cubicle as they reached the end of the sterile, blue-gray hallway. He moved behind a desk, facing the entrance to the small space, and nodded to a cushioned chair in the left corner. “You can sit there. I’m just sorry it’s going to be boring.”

Angie smiled, shaking her head as she found a place to unload her food near the designated chair. “I’ve got books with me,” she said. “And so far, this place is shaping up to be interesting.”

“If you say so.” Vince gave her a thoughtful look before beginning to sort a tall stack of papers, going back and forth between them and his computer.

While he worked, Angie took the time to pick at a poppy seed muffin while she scanned the walls of his cubicle. Framed certificates and awards lined the back wall in neat rows, ranging from recognition for various honor societies, to a series of course completions in American Sign Language. The right wall featured a collage of photographs. Several she recognized to be of Vince’s parents, all in a darkened setting with them holding microphones — karaoke, she supposed.

She spotted movement in her left peripheral vision as someone stepped into the cubical. Angie turned her head, and then had to consciously keep from staring at the miniature woman who stood smiling at her. If Angie had been standing, the top of the woman’s head wouldn’t have quite reached the level of her hip. Her face was soft, creased with age in a way that granted her a grandmotherly appeal. Blonde and silver-streaked hair was pinned into a tidy bun, and her deep brown eyes held an inviting warmth.

“You must be Angie.” The woman extended a small, weathered hand out to her in greeting. Her voice came out airy and pleasant. “I’m Lydia. Vincent assists me with all of my sight-challenged clients.”

Angie recovered from her fascinated stupor and grasped Lydia’s hand. She couldn’t recall ever having such a strong inclination to be careful with a handshake. “Pleased to meet you.” She responded quickly, hoping the woman wouldn’t think she was demeaning her.

Really? He couldn’t have bothered mentioning that his boss happens to be a Little Person?
She wondered to herself if the omission had been intentional on Vince’s part, out of some perverse curiosity over how she might react. A quick glance his way told her otherwise.

Vince smiled to Lydia and held up a blue folder. “I’ll have those medical requests finished for you before lunch.”

“Thank you, that’ll do just fine. I’ll be busy with client meetings most of the morning anyway.” Lydia turned her illuminating smile to Vince and then back to Angie. “You just let me know if you have any questions, Miss Angie. I should have time this afternoon if you’d like a tour.”

“I’d like that very much. Thank you, ma’am.” Angie nodded, distantly aware that Vince’s manners were beginning to rub off on her. ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’ had never been a part of her vocabulary when it came to interacting with her elders. Vince seemed to have been hardwired with more respectful terminology, along with a solid sense of chivalry.

Maybe it’s just a southern thing
, she mused.

“I’m Lydia’s personal secretary,” Vince said after the woman had stepped out and returned to her office. “Jim is my other boss, but he’s over the entire unit. You’ll meet him when he makes his rounds.”

“You work with a pretty diverse bunch,” Angie said. She found herself looking forward to whoever else she may be introduced to as the day went on.

Vince gave her an amused look. “That’s pretty safe to say.”