Chapter 11
Note to self:
Sometimes ice cream is just ice cream.
Sometimes, it’s not.
Back in the car, we were both quiet. Theo seemed lost in thought and I, desperate to distract myself, decided to check in with Cal.
Me: What are your thoughts on singing telegrams?
Cal: Why?
Me: Hypothetically, it could be a nice gift to liven up the rehearsal dinner. Think about it.
Cal: Hilarious. How about a marching band and petting zoo while you’re at it?
Me: I can’t tell if you’re joking so I’m going to err on the side of caution and say you’re serious.
The three telltale dots started and stopped at least three times. Then:
Cal: THERE WILL BE NO SINGING TELEGRAMS AT THE REHEARSAL DINNER. YOU WILL COME, SIT IN YOUR ASSIGNED SEAT, AND SMILE FOR PICTURES. GOT IT?
Me: Hi Melanie
Cal: DO YOU PROMISE?
Me: No singing telegrams. Got it.
Cal: GOOD.
Me: Is my brother still alive, or have you offed him and stuffed his body in the freezer already?
Cal: First, I am not an amateur. A freezer is no place to hide a body. Second, he’s right here. Third, I’m not kidding. NO SINGING TELEGRAMS.
Me: I hear you loud and clear.
Cal: Thank you.
Me: No problem. Gotta go. I’m going to go price out petting zoos. For no reason at all.
Cal: ALI!
The trouble began twenty minutes later.
Our plan had been to make it to Mack’s place in Amarillo, crash at his house, and leave the next morning to head to Colorado. We were traveling along a particularly desolate stretch of a state highway when it happened. It had been a while since we’d passed through a town, even a tiny one. In fact, the only other thing I’d seen was an exit or two, and sparsely treed roads, miles and miles of that.
Theo turned down the music. “Do you hear that?”
“The delightful, harmonic sounds of One Direction? No, you wouldn’t let me pick the music, remember?”
“No, listen.”
It didn’t take long for a high-pitched whine to make its way to my ears. After Theo opened his window, it only got louder and more pronounced.
“Is that coming from the car?” But no sooner had I asked, when the temperature warning light flashed red on the SUV’s dashboard.
“That’s not good,” Theo muttered.
“Is that smoke?” It was definitely smoke, billowing out from under the hood of the car.
Frantically, Theo pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway. He threw it into park, and we both scrambled out of the car. After backing away a good twenty feet, we watched as smoke poured like a chimney from the car.
“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Theo said.
What else was there to say?
“I hate the heat.” I swiped at the sweat dripping from my hairline into my eyes…again. “And sweat. I really hate sweat.”
After we realized we had no cell service, our options were limited to lay down and die (not advisable) or start hoofing it to the resort I’d seen a sign for a couple of miles back. It wouldn’t have been so bad except the sun was relentless and I was wearing flip-flops, and I hated the heat and sweating, and I was starting to feel very stabby.
“Tell us how you’re really feeling,” Theo said from his spot a few paces in front of me. He’d taken off his plaid button-down and it was dangling from his neck.
“This place is so desolate. Do you see those vultures?” Pausing, I pointed in front of us at what appeared to be a group circling high in the air over something, probably very dead.
“Yeah, I see them,” Theo said, not stopping at all.
“Do you know how many bodies are probably buried out here?”
“We could make it one more,” Theo said without turning around.
I planted my feet and stuck my fists on my hips. “Wow.”
He took his baseball hat off, his curls shooting out in all directions, and used the sleeve of his plaid shirt to swipe at his forehead. His band t-shirt was a little tighter than what he normally wore, or maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing the button-down, or maybe the sun had begun to fry what few brain cells I had left. Whatever the reason, it pulled across his chest with the movement and I didn’t bother to not stare.
There was something overwhelmingly attractive about Theo, an understated coolness. He might not have the bulging muscles or a rebellious vibe, but I saw women glance his way. At the last convenience store, one woman chatted him up a good five minutes near the potato chip aisle. I’d wanted to toss a can of Pringles at her head.
“You coming?” Theo asked.
Get your head in the game, Ramos.
“I’m coming,” I said with about as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
When I caught up to him, he shoulder-bumped me. “We have to be close to this place. Did you say it was a resort?”
“That’s what the sign said. Resort and spa. Or something like that.” At this point, I’d take a pay-by-the-hour motel with those vibrating beds, as long as there was air-conditioning.
“Bet they have a pool. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
I sucked in a breath. “That sounds so nice.”
“And ice water.”
“And… and… ice cream?”
Theo slung an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll find you ice cream.”
“With whipped cream?”
“And a cherry.”
“Yes.” I groaned and slowed down, my eyes sliding shut as I imagined the taste of the cool sweetness on my tongue. “Rainbow, no, chocolate sprinkles. And cookie dough crumbles. Maybe some nuts.”
I opened my eyes and was startled to discover we’d stopped moving. Theo’s arm rested heavy on my shoulders, but his gaze felt heavier. His eyes drifted to my mouth. He frowned, two ticks appearing between his eyebrows. My feet rooted right there, fascinated by whatever was going on behind his eyes. I wanted to stand there and stare at him forever.
“In a cone or a cup?” His voice was low and gruff. My stomach swooped.
I licked my bottom lip, the one he was still staring at. “A cup.”
He made a funny little half-groan and swayed closer, just a touch, but I noticed. “One scoop or two?”
“Three. Definitely three.” Was that my voice? I sounded like I’d just run three miles. Uphill.
“Chocolate or caramel syrup?” His eyes moved to mine, bright and piercing.
“Oh, chocolate,” I breathed. “Lots of chocolate syrup.”
“I love chocolate.” He inched closer. I didn’t think my skin could get any hotter than it already was given the sun beating down on us, but I was wrong.
A vulture swooped and landed not ten feet from us, breaking whatever strange ice cream-flavored coma had settled over the two of us. Stupid bird.
Startled, I squawked. Theo dropped his arm. I clapped my hands at it; it didn’t move. The dang thing stood there, drilling into us with beady dark eyes.
“It’s huge.” I shuffled away. “It’s got to be at least two feet tall. Do something, Theo. I-I think it’s trying to figure out what part of me to eat first.”
“He’s not going to eat you. You aren’t dead.”
I gulped. “Yet.”
“Let’s go get you that ice cream.” With a soft laugh, Theo patted me on the back and started moving down the road, his limp far more pronounced than normal.
“Your ankle doing okay?” I called, still staring at the vulture that was staring at me.
“It’s fine.” He waved a hand of dismissal in the air.
“You’re lying again.”
“Hurry up. I want to find this place before we really are vulture food.”
The bird took a small hop toward me. That was enough to get my feet unstuck fast.