Chapter 6
“Only you could talk a woman into letting you travel in her RV with her. Alone.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Are you sure she’s not a psycho?”
“I’m positive, Solene.”
As I talk to my best friend, I watch Krista. I should help her, but Solene kept calling. Enough that Krista told me to answer the call, or she’d kick me out. We’re at another rest stop, about twenty miles away from the park where we stopped earlier to hash out the terms.
I can’t believe she agreed, to be honest. A little part of me wanted to tell her to say no, why would you invite a stranger into your space? That would defeat the purpose of what I want. It’s time for me to be a little selfish.
I’ll pull my weight and do whatever I can to make it easy on her. We agreed two weeks but I’m hoping for longer. We’ll see. She might kick me out before then, especially if my bandmates don’t leave me the hell alone.
This is a stop we should not have had to make, but Krista says we need a few things. Extra bedding and more food. I bought it all because she wouldn’t have needed it if I wasn’t here.
“At least let Luther do a background check on her.”
My eyes roll, but I get it. Luther is one of the security who watches out for the band. He’s in charge of those kinds of things too. I hate to do it, but she’s right.
I’m not a total idiot. I did some research on her myself back at the hotel. Krista was modest when she told me what she does. She’s well known in her own right, successful with a big fan base.
Maybe that’s what makes it easier for her to understand me?
“Fine,” I agree to the background check as it goes deeper than what I can do on the surface. “Tell him to be discrete.”
“Don’t tell me what to do when it comes to your safety, asshole. I’m worried about you. This is so out of character. You want to go on a road trip with a stranger. In the middle of God-knows-bumfuck-nowhere. What about that is normal?”
“Solene, you’re overreacting. If it makes you feel any better, I got Bill to put a tracker on my phone. Only you and him have access to it.”
“Really? Wow. So that means you are worried.”
“Not at all. It’s more for your nagging ass. Don’t take advantage of it and don’t keep calling.”
“Is this woman hot, by any chance?”
“Bye, Solene.”
“That means she is. Please don’t start being led by your dick like Ethan.”
“I’ll call you in a few days. Enjoy your time off. I’m good.”
“Don’t hang up on me, Jude! Ju-”
She means well, but I can make judgment calls. And Krista isn’t dangerous.
I look up at her as she exits the RV. I’ve moved further away, so she hasn’t noticed where I am sitting yet. The sun is setting. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a day since I met her. It feels like I’ve known her for weeks.
We have no problem communicating. That is something I’ll never be able to explain to Solene. I’ve made a vow to myself this is going to be purely platonic. Sure, she’s gorgeous, sexy as fuck, and it would be a pleasant distraction from the shit going on, but I won’t use her like that.
She’s helping me. That means she deserves my respect.
Krista tips her head up and closes her eyes, the last rays of sunlight hitting her face. Without thinking, I lift the phone and snap a photograph of her. Luckily, she doesn’t see as I lower it to my lap in time, but she has spotted me and waves me over.
I wave back, checking out the photo before I get up. The sun is flaring a little in the top right of the image, but her face is clear, her auburn hair looks like fire around her face, accentuating her bone structure, her full lips and smooth forehead.
She’s stunning.
I should delete it.
“Come on, if we want to make the campsite by nine, we need to get back on the road!”
With a nod, I jog back across to the RV.
“When can I drive?” I ask.
Krista laughs in response. I wait, but she doesn’t answer. Great. As she walks up the steps, I watch her ass, slap myself, then follow.
“You’ll need lessons before I let you loose on the highway.”
“I’m game,” I say as I grab us a couple of cans of soda.
In the cupboard by the fridge, I take out a bag of potato chips and pretzels we bought earlier, then sit down in the passenger seat, setting it all out on the handy fold away table. This place has more sneaky cupboards and hidden surfaces than I can fathom.
It’s surprising how at home I feel here.
“Maybe in a couple of days. If we can find an empty parking lot somewhere.”
Kicking off my sneakers, I put my feet up on the dash. I got told off for doing it with my shoes the first time. She doesn’t seem to mind my socks. I pick at the food and drink my soda while she focuses on the road.
The highway is quieter, though there is a steady stream of cars and trucks going in both directions. I watch the lights for a while, sipping on my drink. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but I’m used to noise. This will be a big change. I should put on some music.
“What’s your favorite song?”
I stir from my thoughts. “That’s like asking a parent who their favorite kid is,” I say.
“Come on, don’t think about it, just say it. Everyone has a favorite song.”
“You can’t ask a musician that, Krista. It’s impossible to answer.”
“It’s in there. Come on, reach inside,” she laughs. “Okay, how about a favorite album instead of a song? That must be easier.”
“Vs, by Pearl Jam,” I say with no hesitation, surprising myself. It did just pop into my head. "Dissident is the best song on the album."
“I haven’t heard that one.”
“You should, it’s amazing. I spent a lot of time in my room listening to it when I was a teenager. It was their second album, rawer than their first, which was amazing too, but Vs was killer.”
“Find it and put it on. We’ll be at the stopover in about a half hour.”
I haven’t thought about that album in years. Dad introduced me to Pearl Jam. He’d been a big fan since their first album in the early nineties. It played a massive part in who I was growing up. Dad and I used to listen to them together while we worked on cars in his garage.
Fuck, it’s been an age since I thought back on those times. It’s also been a while since I spoke to dad. I have a sudden urge to call him. My parents have been in touch through this whole mess, wanting to make sure I’m okay, but it’s always rushed. No meaningful conversations. I can’t even remember if I asked them how they were.
I find the album and we listen to it the rest of the way to the stop for the night. Krista doesn’t ask any more questions, just listens to the music. After a while, I settle back in the chair and tip my head onto the headrest, closing my eyes. All the emotions and feelings I used to have when I listened as a kid come flooding back.
Back then, I was a dreamer, a determined one. I knew what I wanted, and that was to be like these guys, to be a musician. To make a mark on the world with the music people feel rather than just listen to. We achieved that, growing a fanbase early on.
The bigger we got, the more strangled I felt. The label wanted us to conform to their standards over what music we should put out. No one tells you when you sign a contract, the label will get a chokehold on you. Slowly, changes slip in. We were so happy to be making music we didn’t see it back then.
When a more mainstream song of ours hit and people other than our diehard fans discovered us, shit went stratospheric.
“Jude.”
My eyes open to Krista standing behind the chair. I must have drifted off because we’re parked up near several other RVs. There is a path lit up by a few streetlights with low wattage bulbs.
“We’re here. All set up. I’m gonna go take a shower and turn in,” Krista says, stretching and yawning. “It’s been a long day. Interesting, but long.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I pop my seatbelt and get up. “Thanks for everything today. It was a lot to ask and I’m still shocked you agreed.”
“You’re welcome.”
Krista shows me how to turn the couch into a pull-out bed and hands me the bag with the new bedding we bought earlier. As I make it up, I can hear the shower running from beyond the sliding door into the bedroom.
It’s hard, but I manage not to imagine her back there. It feels wrong, considering everything she’s done today. After using the smaller bathroom and brushing my teeth, I settle into the makeshift bed. It’s comfortable. The walls are so thin I can hear her moving around and see when she turns off the light in her room.
After staring at the ceiling long after she’s fallen asleep, I realize what Krista did. She got me thinking about something from the past, a good memory, a time when I was happy. When none of the stresses and pressure of my current life were weighing me down.
Listening to that album soothed me. It quietened the noise in my head that I’ve been trying to hide for months now.
She’s done more for me in one day than anyone I’ve been close to for years has been able to. I don’t even know if she knows it, or it was pure coincidence.
I’m not the kind of guy who believes in fate. You make your own luck. A part of me can’t help wondering if this is what I’ve been searching for. Finding someone who expects nothing of me yet understands me.
It makes me nervous because I can’t afford to let her burrow too deep. Not when this is a short-term deal. If I took one thing away from the therapist, it was don’t latch on to something else that will be difficult to let go of.
Choosing to maintain the mood listening to that album brought me. I close my eyes and drift into the kind of sleep I’ve not had for a long time.
The following morning, I’m up before Krista. I gather everything I need to make breakfast. I’m not great with eggs, but I can fry some bacon and I’m a whizz with a toaster. When I hear shuffling around from the bedroom, I get the coffee ready. Krista drinks it heavy on the cream, but no sugar.
“Earning your keep?”
I grin, taking in today’s outfit. She’s wearing comfortable looking gym pants and another baggy band T. I’m getting the impression everything is about comfort on this trip.
“Breakfast and hot coffee are the least I can do.”
Krista peers into the pan and nods, then goes about getting everything ready at the table. It’s almost domestic how we sit down to eat.
“What’s the plan today?” I ask.
“I write for a while first thing, then I want to head into town. There is a great little bookstore here I always visit when I pass through. Oh, there is a music store too. You should check that out.”
“I will, thanks.”
It’s not a bad idea. I was thinking about how to get a guitar shipped somewhere so I could play, but this works if they have a decent selection of instruments.
I do the dishes and notice how she watches me moving about. She’s not entirely sure about me, I get that. It must be weird having someone in her space. If her plan is to write, I want to leave her to it. Hell, I get easily distracted when I’m writing.
Letting her know I’m going to explore, she grabs a map from the drawer and hands it to me. It shows the small-town layout.
“How about I meet you at the park around one? We can grab lunch.”
“Great.”
“It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to town.”
“Damn, I’m getting my steps in.”
“It’s good for your heart, and your brain,” she points out, pulling out her laptop and setting it all up on the table.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Don’t forget your hat,” she tosses it to me.
I salute, put it on, then head out.