The Road to Glory (13 page)

Leigh watched nervously, ready to jump up and help RJ should the need arise.

When RJ was finished, both men laid down money for their bill and got up from the table. They walked slowly and carefully over to Leigh, frequently glancing back at RJ, who was standing tall, her arms crossed over her chest with one auburn eyebrow perched high on her forehead. The younger of the two cleared his throat awkwardly and faced Leigh. "We’re sorry, Miss. We didn’t mean to offend you or your friend."

Leigh’s blinked. "Okay," she said slowly, her questioning gaze shifting to RJ. She refocused on the men. "What you said was wrong." Leigh pointedly stared at the older man’s crotch, making him squirm. "We really don’t need or want one of
those
, you know."

Both men blushed.

"Though I’m sure it comes in handy on camping trips or for writing your name in snow."

"Unless your name is Bartholomew," one of the men mumbled unhappily.

Leigh winced. Even after a six-pack that name would be a real bitch.

RJ cleared her throat from behind them, and the men nearly bolted from the diner. She tried her best not to smile as she approached Leigh. "And here I was telling
them
to be nice."

"What?" Leigh affected an innocent face.

"They’re entitled to their opinion, but they don’t need to be voicing it in such a manner." RJ sat back down next to Leigh. "There’s no need to be rude."

"What did you –?"

"It’s not important." RJ winked at Leigh and picked up a fork, poking her hash browns. "If you’d put a little ketchup on those they’d be ready to eat."

Leigh glanced down at the hash browns Mavis had slid in front of her when she wasn’t paying attention
.
They were gently steaming and smelled like bacon grease. She groaned in pleasure.
RJ’s right. It’s not important. Besides, I can always torture it out of her later.

Leigh wanted to start her week off on a good foot, and she was bound and determined not to let a couple of assholes spoil her plans. She smiled brightly at RJ. "Ketchup it is."

* * *

RJ shouldered her bag as they walked hand in hand toward Leigh’s truck. She wasn’t expecting to see the trailer attached. "Has something changed?" Mildly alarmed green eyes shifted to Leigh. "I thought you had the week off."

Leigh tugged on RJ’s hand. "Hush. Nothing has changed. We’re headed to Seattle. I own the trailer," she pointed toward the back of the truck, "and the tractor," her finger shifted to the cab. "And right now the trailer is sitting empty."

She stopped and turned to RJ, running the tip of that same finger up the centerline of her chest, to her shoulder, then down her arm. "We’re going to have a great week together."
At least I hope we are.
Leigh was a little nervous. She’d never driven with anyone but her dad, and she’d certainly never traveled or spent more than a few hours at a time with any woman.
I am pitiful,
she admitted to herself.

RJ smiled fondly at Leigh. "I’m sure we will." Her attention turned back to the bright red truck. "That’s an awfully big rig for such a –"

Leigh turned and began walking backwards in front of RJ. She laughed and poked RJ in the chest playfully. "Don’t say it! There are no short jokes allowed."

"Who’d be joking?"

"You’re evil."

RJ quirked a brow. "You’re just now noticing that?" They began to walk around to the passenger side when RJ’s hand grazed the big machine. She let out an explosive breath. It suddenly felt like someone was standing squarely in the center of her chest. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling dizzy and queasy at the same time. RJ barely heard Leigh asking her what was wrong over the buzzing in her ears. Then strong hands were holding her upright against the truck. She gasped again, taking in a deep breath and opening her eyes. RJ blinked, stunned. Colors and smells seemed just a hair dimmer, and as the buzzing receded, Leigh’s words came into focus.

"Jesus Christ! Are you okay?" Leigh desperately searched RJ’s face.
She’s having a heart attack?

"Yeah. Yeah." RJ swallowed and looked around her. The sensation was indescribable. She felt alive.
God! I didn’t know this was going to happen!
RJ simply assumed that for her little journey she would remain in the same form that she did at the diner: tangible to those living, but still existing in her own realm. Her eyes flickered from object to object and her ears perked up at the faint sound of birds in the distance. Things weren’t as vivid as they were normally were . This wasn’t worse, just … her mind scrambled for the right description.
Just ‘different’.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go to the –"

"I’m well and truly all right, Leigh." RJ was still a little dazed but did her best not to show it. She was scaring her companion. But how could she not react? It had been a lifetime since she felt this way. With every breath her lungs tingled in a way that was as familiar as it was new. RJ took Leigh’s hands in her own. They were trembling slightly. "I was just lightheaded for a moment. Musta been my amazing speed as I rounded that corner." Her gaze softened. "Truly."

Leigh studied her carefully. As though nothing had happened, RJ looked like the very picture of health. "You’re sure?" she finally asked.

"I’m very sure."

Leigh narrowed her eyes. "It’s probably those disgusting cigarettes you smoke."

"Oh, Lord. Not another one." RJ threw her hands in the air. "There are worse habits, you know. It’s not like I’m a killer of small animals or defiler of virgins."

At the teasing in RJ’s voice, Leigh instantly relaxed.
I guess she is okay.

When they rounded the corner of the truck to the passenger’s side, RJ’s feet froze mid-step. "My, my." She pointed at the rig. "Is there a reason you’ve got a naked woman painted on the side of your truck?" RJ laughed throatily. "A very buxom naked woman, I should say."

"She’s not naked," Leigh protested. "She’s wearing panties." The blonde woman groaned and let her head sag forward a little. God, she hated that picture. Not that the woman wasn’t pretty. She was. She just also happened to be a picture of Leigh’s mother, who had died when the trucker was still in diapers. The fact that she was plastered naked on the side of Leigh’s truck for all the world to see was not something she appreciated. She had loved her father with all her heart. But the man was tacky as hell.

RJ’s eyes widened a little as she examined the picture in detail. "It’s you with long hair!" Her eyes shot from Leigh to the picture and back again. She smiled delightedly.
Watch yourself, RJ. This lass is a wild one.

Leigh ground her teeth together. "It’s
not
me," she insisted petulantly. "I’m not that … that … you know." She pointed to the picture’s ample breasts. There was no way she was going to say who it really was.

RJ snorted appreciatively. "Damn near."

"It’s not me."

"Sure it’s not." RJ’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe a word of what Leigh was saying. She gestured toward the center of the painting. "And what happened here?" She scowled like a child denied one of her favorite toys. Or in this case an adult denied one of her favorite toys. "You’re covering the best part!"

A black strip had been painted over the woman’s chest, mostly hiding her more spectacular assets.

Leigh put her hands on her hips. "I ‘fixed’ it, if you must know." In actuality, the week before, after enduring yet another comment about the picture and enjoying her fifth tequila shooter, Leigh had had a full-blown hissy fit and taken a can of spray paint to the truck. She’d been meaning to get the whole thing repainted ever since, but she hadn’t had a day off yet. Her favorite body shop was going to be her first stop when she got back to Seattle.

RJ scratched her jaw, not willing to peel her eyes away from the picture. "Why would you need to
fix
your own truck?"

"It was my father’s rig. I sort of inherited it."
Along with its $2000.00 a month payment,
she thought wryly
.

Even though the tall woman was clearly absorbed in the picture, Leigh refused to look at it. There were some things a daughter didn’t really want to know about her mother. How she looked in a purple polka-dotted thong was one of them. "It was his paint job. Not mine."

RJ groaned enthusiastically, examining the picture with a critical eye. "It’s a lovely picture."

"Pervert!" Leigh barked irrationally. This was her mother, for God’s sake! She dug into her pocket and pulled out her keys, wordlessly deactivating the alarm and opening RJ’s door before stalking around to the other side of the cab.

RJ blinked. "What did I say?"

RJ felt a certain amount of apprehension about leaving.
This is a once in a lifetime… err… after lifetime chance. Don’t blow it.
Taking a deep breath, she tossed in her duffel and grabbed the door handles, pulling herself up into the passenger seat. Once she stowed her bag at her feet, she pulled the door shut and took a good look around. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

Leigh jumped a little bit at RJ’s loud exclamation. "What? What’s wrong?" She stood up and began looking around the cab. She’d seen two rather odd-looking squirrels puttering around her truck the last time she was at the diner. Could they have gotten inside?

"Where the hell do you hide Buck Rogers in this thing?" RJ’s eyes were as wide as saucers as they took in the truck’s high tech console.

Leigh flushed with pleasure at RJ’s reaction to her baby.

"Does he live in the closet?" RJ pointed back into the sleeping area, then jumped to her feet and began to explore the space. "Holy hell! It’s larger than my room at my mother’s."

Leigh snickered.

"What?"

She sat back in her seat and buckled her seatbelt, sliding her sunglasses on with one hand as she started the truck with the other. "Do you really live with your mother?"

RJ sat back in the seat and reluctantly tore eyes from the dashboard to focus on Leigh. "Yes, I really live with my mother," she informed her bluntly. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"You don’t attend Star Trek and Xena conventions wearing silly costumes and stalking the actors, do you?"

RJ looked totally confused. "I have no idea what on this earth you’re talking about."

"Good." Leigh nodded. A girl couldn’t be too careful. Serial killers were one thing. But those weirdo convention goers were something else.

"Why shouldn’t I live with my mother?" RJ pressed.
Maybe folks don’t do that anymore.

"No reason." Leigh shrugged one shoulder. She hadn’t meant to insult RJ. "It’s sweet. Old-fashioned as hell, but sweet."

RJ relaxed a little. She’d been right. Things were just different now. This adjusting to things in the twenty-first century wouldn’t be so bad. She would just have to be savvy about things. "Maybe I’m just a sweet, old-fashioned kind of woman."

"Yeah, right," Leigh snorted as she put the truck into gear and pulled away from the diner.

"And what’s that supposed to mean?" RJ crossed her arms over her chest as she sank into the soft leather of the seat. She gripped her biceps in an effort to keep from reaching out and playing with the buttons on the console in front of her. Her fingers literally itched.

"Sweet, old-fashioned women
do not
,
I repeat
do not,
know how to do the things with their tongue that you do."

RJ bit the inside of her cheek, fighting not to smile stupidly. The level of appreciation in Leigh’s voice had her ego purring nicely. But it wouldn’t do to come off like an arrogant S.O.B. "I aim to please," she finally chuckled, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

"Your aim is dead on." Leigh’s gaze slid sideways. "Don’t forget to buckle up."

RJ hesitated. "Ummm … buckle …"

"Your seatbelt."

"No, thank you," RJ muttered uneasily. "I’m sure I’ll be fine." Her pulse began to pound and her mind flashed to a scene of the ocean coming closer and closer, before a stunning impact. Then there was no air as she weakly, helplessly, tried to unhook herself from her plane as it sank.

"Hey." Leigh slowed the truck. "Are you okay?"
What the hell is going on?

"I … um …" RJ licked her lips, tasting the sudden saltiness of her own sweat.

"It’s against the law not to wear your belt. You know that."

"Of course," RJ said quickly.
A law?
"It’s just … just …"

Leigh pulled over on the shoulder and stopped the truck. She quickly unbuckled herself and knelt in the space between her and RJ’s seat. "Tell me what’s the matter?" she asked earnestly, slipping off her sunglasses to get a better look at RJ.

RJ felt a little cornered, but Leigh’s voice was reassuring. "I had an accident when I was younger. And now I get …" she licked her lips, "I get a little claustrophobic. If wearing the belt is a requirement, then you’d best turn around and –"

"Hold on." Leigh cupped RJ’s cheek and frowned. Her skin felt cool and clammy and her eyes held a hint of panic
. That must be what happened back in the parking lot. Some sort of panic attack.
"You don’t have to buckle up if you don’t want to."
I’d pay twice the ticket to keep you from being upset.
"I just don’t want something to happen to you."

RJ let out a shuddering breath. "It won’t." She pinned Leigh with her eyes. "I mean, you’ll be careful driving, right?"

"Cross my heart."

"Okay, then, Leigh Matthews." RJ smiled tentatively. "Time to get this show on the road."

*  *  *

The day had gone better than either woman had dared hope. RJ and Leigh had laughed, talked, and sung along with the radio. Neither woman was even remotely shy, which helped … since RJ didn’t know a single word to any of the songs she was singing along to.

‘Margaritaville’ would have kicked arse in the 1930s
, RJ mused.

Over the past day, RJ had learned more than one truly interesting fact about her new friend. But at the moment, it wasn’t Leigh who was occupying her mind.

RJ had to pee. God, she had to pee! Her back was aching from sitting all day and she sat up a little straighter, stretching her sore, tired muscles. She wiggled her toes in her shoes, which felt tight and constricting.
My feet must be swollen.
Next, her stomach growled and she laid her hand across it, feeling a little lightheaded. Had she skipped lunch? She couldn’t remember.
How could I forget that being alive totally sucked!