A Toast to Starry Nights (40 page)

“Maybe one day you'll get that through
your head. However, since that choice doesn't seem to be possible on this not
terribly auspicious evening, I'm leaving. I don't wanna see you get ready and I
sure as hell don't wanna see her. Gimme a call when you get done testing
yourself against her wiles and I'll come home. That you'd willingly subject
yourself to that piece of work utterly boggles my fucking mind.” I picked up my
purse and dug out the keys. “I love you, Dmitri. Don't let Lorryn hurt you
again... I'm getting tired of cleaning up her messes.”

He said nothing as I closed the door
behind me.

Chapter Twenty-One -

I didn't know where I was going to go--
somewhere, anywhere away from Dmitri and his unerring path towards
douche-baggery. I didn't think I was being unreasonable in my request... but
maybe it was too much for him. After Mike, I gave up trying to understand
men--I could hit my head against a brick wall and get more achieved with less
headache.

Unlocking the door to the Grand
Cherokee, I sprung into the seat and slammed the keys in the ignition. The
beast roared to life and I flew off on my four-wheel drive broomstick.

At the stop sign where the cul-de-sac
intersected the cross street, I turned on the bluetooth speaker mounted on my
visor and pulled out the cell phone from the depths of my purse. Jet answered
after three rings, and as soon as I heard her voice, I tucked the cell into my
bra. My 'secret pocket' made getting to the cell much easier.

“What's up, homefry?” She was eating
something crunchy.

“Dmitri is busy being a dickhead. You
busy?”

Crunch... crunch...“Kinda... I've got an
appointment scheduled in about thirty minutes, but I can keep ya company on the
phone while you get your rage out. What did he do this time?”
Chomp, chomp,
chomp.

Rage. That's a good way to put it. “He's
going out for coffee with an old acquaintance who'd like him to do work on her
house.”

A pause in Jet's mastication. “So? It's
business. Why are you so pissed off at him?”
Crunch.

“Because it's Lorryn.”

The moment of silence seemed almost a
decade long as the crunching ceased. “Lorryn?”

“Yep. The one, the only.”

“Okay, I gotcha now... why is he having
coffee with her? They could talk at his shop during work hours.” Crunch.

“That is why I'm rather irked at him,
Jet. That and he promised me back in the day if she popped up again, he'd give
her the cold shoulder... not go out for coffee.” Traffic on the cross street
zipped by. The single lane seemed like a conga line of SUVs and pickup trucks
with an occasional sedan thrown in for fun. Frustration built as I waited for a
chance to make a left turn.

“What did you say to him, oh Princess of
the Pissed Off Peoples?” Jet's tone held a tiny rebuke in it reserved for me.

“I told him that he shouldn't even
contemplate letting her back into his life. You know what he said to me? He
told me I could come along and make an awkward scene or I could chill with you
and bitch. Then he told me 'whatever makes you fucking happy'.” My opportunity
came and the pedal hit the metal. Tires squealed and my heart raced. I wonder
if Dmitri heard it?

“You're in your car already, aren't
you?”

“Yep. Gonna get the hell out for a bit.
I think I'm gonna head up to Elk Creek and drive around. It'll get me out of
the village for a while. The thought of him sucking coffee down across from her
just pisses me off. He knows what he's in for when it comes to her... just
argh!” Primal scream therapy has nothing on me. I passed by drive thru
restaurants and headed towards the overpass which served as a gateway to the
great outdoors.

Jet laughed. “Take a chill pill, Harpy
Empress.”

“He told me he wasn't planning on
'sucking face' or 'getting a blowjob' from her either.” Icy-cold anger roared
through my body over the thought of him and her going at it. I didn't want to
conjure the image to pollute my mind. However, my brain doesn't work like that.
Plant an idea and the fertile soil of my brain will make it thrive without any
tending.

“He really said that? No wonder you're
miffed. I can cancel my appointment. Let's hang out... I got a bottle of
absinthe from an admirer I've been saving for an occasion. Let's channel Oscar
Wilde and visit with the Green Fairy.”

“Nah, don't cancel. I'll speed up the
mountain and probably head up to the lake. Still got the telescope in the
back... might as well get some use out of it. Maybe when you get done with your
appointment, you could head up and we'll star gaze. Funny thing... I told
Dmitri to call me when he was done, but if I'm up in the hills, I won't get his
call. I suppose I could tool around Bayliss and Glenn, but the CHP and Sheriff
tend to frown upon speeding.” I wanted to hear the engine roar and scenery fly
by.

“Just start humming the theme to
CHiPs
.
I hear they like that. What about Wiley, wouldn't he put a cramp in your style?
He's law enforcement for the mountains.”

“I'm not going up Forest Highway 7...
just going to the lake. And if he stopped me for an infraction, Wiley'd give me
a citation no matter if I turned on the waterworks. I wouldn't get diplomatic
immunity especially if I mentioned the fights with Dmitri... I mean, they were
war buddies. That's probably a lot closer than most couples get. Besides, he
doesn't cut slack for anyone. I'm positive he'd cite his own parents.”

“You could always try flashing him some
cleavage. Otherwise, don't speed. Turn your tunes up loud and think of how
miserable Dimi's going to be sitting across from her and pondering the foolish
things he said that made you stomp out in a huff while dealing with a nutcase
with an affection for kitchen gadgets. He should be grateful you were merciful.
I would have been a bit more...psycho. Flailing limbs, probably some twitching
around the eye area and a nasty case of four-letter-explitative Tourettes. As a
side note, I noticed you said fights... so elaborate.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
The worn leather bit into my palm. “I don't feel merciful. I feel angry that
he's setting himself up for another batch of drama and bullshit. He's a logical
sort. That's one of the big things that I love about him... but whenever
Lorryn's involved, that logic pulls an Elvis and leaves the building. Last
night he and I had words about the wedding and how my lack of enthusiasm upsets
him because I should be getting blasted and passing out herb sprigs when our
guests show up.”

“You are the first person I've seen not
go apeshit with planning right out the gate. I can see how Dimi would see it as
threatening. And maybe a few shots would loosen you up. Just not while you're
driving. As for tonight's shitfit, don't dwell on it, you'll only drive
yourself crazy. Maybe he went to tell her that you two kids are planning a
wedding and to decline the job offer. Or she might've gotten her med combo
right and will keep the topic on what she wants done to her house, not her
body.”

“Thanks for that glimmering example of the
awesome potential. Yay.” I crested the overpass to Highway 162 and headed due
west. “Why does it bug me so much?” It was meant to be rhetorical in nature.

“Because you are a closet control
freak.”

“That explains it all, doesn't it?” I
drove towards the rolling hills, past houses, fields of alfalfa and grain for
livestock. The road began to twist like a serpent as the elevation grew. “I'm
heading up the hill now, gonna lose reception when I get to the race track so
if the phone cuts off, that's why.” Almond orchards in their green-leafed glory
sped by as I got up to cruising speed.

“Duly noted. If Dmitri tries to get a
hold of me, should I tell him where you are? “

“Sure, tell him. I don't want him
worried because there's no reception in the mountains. You can tell him where
to find me... at any rate, I plan on being back in the village by nine-thirty,
ten at the latest.”

“I don't want you to get offended,
Kaylis, but sometimes you need to pull your own head out of your ass, or at
least install a window on your stomach so you can see. If I were you, I'd stick
to Bayliss, or your grandfather's ranch for stargazing. It'd be romantic...
you, a telescope, the star-lit sky, Dmitri all weirded out from dealing with
Lorryn and wanting a little sympathy--”

“And ass loads of mosquitoes. No thanks.
Did you have a point?”

“You need to mellow out. Head over to
Willow's and get stoned. Dmitri wouldn't mind because you'd finally be
relaxed.”

“I'm not going to get stoned. I like my
cognitive ability, thank you. I can text him where I'll be, I suppose.” I
sighed. It felt as if I contacted him first, I'd be capitulating to him. I
wanted him to contact me, not the other way around.

“You don't lose cognitive ability,
dipshit. It mellows you out so you can take that lump of coal out of your ass
before it turns into a diamond. You think Carl Sagan would've smoked weed if it
gave him the stupids? And yeah, texting him is a good idea. I'll text him for
you since texting while driving is a bad idea. I got a ticket for it.”

“Thanks. And again Jet, do you have a
point?”

“Don't go fucking shit up with Dmitri
because you're too damn stubborn yourself to calm down and not over-think
things. Because you over-think things constantly Do what you must to relax and
chill out, then go home and be there with a smile on your face for when he gets
back from inoculating himself against a future dose of crazy.”

“He could have just told her no, not
interested. He had that option.”

“Dmitri is too nice to females,
remember? He'll suffer through a cup of strong black coffee and then politely
excuse himself and run away quickly. He'll be glad to have dodged that bullet
and come back home, anxious to make amends because you left with your panties
in a wad.”

“Between the mindfuck, having my lack of
enthusiasm pointed out and criticized, being likened to Willow, and now him
willingly hanging with Lorryn within an almost twenty-four hour period, I'm
just drained. Like seriously fucking wiped out.” Dusk began to fall around me,
so I clicked on my headlights. “Maybe it's me. Maybe I should tell Dmitri we
can wait a year, give me time to get all psyched about the wedding. Perhaps
it's this avalanche of shit that has dampened my desire to get princess-pimped
for a day. I wasn't always like this. I'm sure I had my wedding planned out
when I was eight.” Moments like this, when my hands have a deathgrip of anger
around my steering wheel, that I'm thrilled with the wizardry of technology.
Bluetooth speaker on my visor has paid for itself this night. If I had my cell
in my hand, the plastic would probably be cracked by now.

“Yeah, that's a lot of roller-coaster
crap in a short period. And you are not a fan of thrill rides.”

“No, but I'm happy to stand by holding
your purse so you can hang upside down at sixty-five miles an hour. Yay you and
roller-coasters.”

“Sitting by a cute guy has its purposes.
Most especially when one wears something that shows cleavage. Gravity defying
bras and roller-coasters... it's a good combination.”

“I suppose.”

“How far are you from the track?”

“About half a mile. Looks like they have
a race going on, lots of lights peeking through the hills.”

Lightning Mountain Race Track happened
to be the village's cash cow. UC Davis tested new automobile technology here,
and that's a bit of a drive, enough that it made headlines in the local rag.
Races, motels and restaurants all benefited from high octane excitement.

I could see the tree and rose-lined
wrought iron gates that led to the race track and parking lots in the distance.
Wasn't long before I saw a car pull out from the gates and head towards me. No
lights on, it disappeared in the shadow the hill cast upon the road. Maybe the
dark would clue the driver that lights were needed. I'll say it's a perk of the
Volvo, Dmitri's Silverado and newer cars in general with automatic headlights.
With that in mind, I flashed on my high beams a couple times to get the
driver's attention. Didn't work.

I caught sight in the rear-view mirror
of a car hauling ass behind me. Damn, I hate tailgaters.

When the car I flashed reappeared from
the shadow, it was in my lane and heading straight for me. “What the fuck is
this guy doing?” Didn't realize I spoke aloud until Jet responded.

“What's going on?”

I forgot she was on the phone as soon as
I spotted the car heading for me in my lane. “Car coming head on to me. No
headlights. Have to go off road.” I applied pressure to the brakes and steered
toward the star thistle covered road shoulder. I couldn't pull into the other
lane to pass, as a big rig driving toward the village blocked the escape.
Hopefully the big rig's driver saw this clown and got the license plate number.

“Oh shit!” Jet's voice resonated panic,
her voice splashed from the Bluetooth speaker to fill my cab.

“FUCK!” Big rig passed with another
vehicle behind it and the car with no headlights still came my way. If I went
completely off the road, I'd head up a hillside through a barbwire fence and
flip the Jeep. As is, I was mostly off the road, trying to slow to a halt when
the car in front of me entered the other lane as the driver noticed we were
about twenty feet apart, and I was still going over thirty miles an hour.