The Wrong Way Road Trip Pt. 01

Wayward was mostly asleep, so I covered her up and did the packing. It didn't take long and I slipped in next to her, the alarm set for three.

She was wiggling and waking me just as the alarm went off. After a pee and a face wash, we were out the door. I wondered if Mac and Lucy ever got up in the dark for photography. Probably not.

Chapter 3 - Excitement in Vegas

Wayward squeezed my hand as we motored up the grade out of the Valley. "Who brought the coffee and donuts?"

"Mac screwed up."

"I didn't make him dumber than Lucy for you to hide behind!"

"Put it on the Vegas list. Need hot water pot for coffee on the road."

"If I am the assistant, I better acquire a notebook to make lists."

"That would be good. Tell me the order of stops when we hit town."

"First, a ring, because we need it for the other stops. Second, clothes, for same reason. Third, jalopy with bench seat and rebuilt motor. Fourth..." She looked at me.

"Fourth is another call home, from a payphone, using coins."

Her eyes didn't look happy, but we were pulling into the Zabriskie parking lot. I carried the tripod, and she had the camera and its lenses.

"Brian, it's hard for me to think of talking to her again."

"Here's the deal, young lady. You have your whole life ahead of you. They are not really going to write you out of their lives, even if they were terribly nasty this last month. In the Fall, you will have a beautiful grandson at your breast, and I think they will come around. You at least owe them that opportunity by not burning any more bridges."

It felt strange to be lecturing my new girlfriend hiking up a ramp to a famous vista point in the desert. It was twenty minutes to sunrise and we needed to pay attention to images.

She wrapped her hand in mine and said in a small voice. "You sure are good for me. I'll do my best on the phone call."

The next hour was a photographer's dream and funny as could be. Wayward was changing her mind every few minutes and shuffling lenses around like crazy. Mostly, the camera body stayed on the tripod so long exposures could be taken. I had both smartphones and was doing my own images with them, including a video of bundled up photographer at work.

By the time the sun was most of the way down the peak across the way, we were done. She rushed into a hug and a kiss and said, "Thank you so much for this. Unbelievable!"

In Pahrump, halfway to Vegas, we found a coffee shop and ordered breakfast. She glanced at me from under her long lashes and said, "You know, we could improve the photography assistant's work if there was a second camera body. I missed some things this morning with all that lens changing."

I answered back, "You know, we need a bigger screen and some professional editing software."

Her smile lit up the room. "Bad, bad, bad. How deep are your pockets, anyway?"

"That is a very deep secret. But deep enough to set you up properly to do quirky images for the quirky blog. You better start checking for a pro style store in Las Vegas."

I munched on my waffle while she did just that, grabbing bites now and then.

She started scribbling. Looked at me and said "Ambold and Meyer. Downtown, not on the Strip."

"Nice work. You are pretty handy with that machine."

"My roommate was a complete nerd. Rubbed my nose in it day and night."

As we were walking out, she asked, "Can we make the phone call here? They will be up and I'd rather get it out of the way."

"Sure, let's find an empty parking lot. We'll use the other burner phone, just in case they have someone looking for you."

The call went up and down. At the end, she said, "I have to run, my ride is leaving. I'll try to stay in touch. No, I can't tell you where I am or where I'm going. Bye now."

She was teary. "Damn, she was all over me about coming home and doing the right thing. I hope you noticed I didn't scream or shout. Your pep talk helped."

Marigold had been right. Getting that call out of the way was the thing to do. I turned on the radio and we listened to rock the rest of the distance to Vegas. She was smiling and singing and swatting at my head. "Senor Brian, you know how to treat a girl right, no?"

She was navigating and headed us first to a seedy part of town and a shop with a big pawn sign in front. "How much can I spend on a genuine gold ring?"

"You are going to buy a hocked ring? What if the poor girl who gave it up comes back?"

"Senor, you do not understand. Sometimes, the girl comes back. Mostly, the girl didn't like the guy anyway, and just turns his ring into cash."

I reached in the back for my canvas stash bag and counted three hundred dollar bills into her hand. She nodded and said, "One more for insurance. Has to be respectable ring."

I groaned and covered my eyes. She disappeared into the store. Ten minutes later, she was dazzling me with a gorgeous gold band, and handing over the extra hundred. "I told him I was broke and knocked up and had to get married and this was all the money we had."

"He believed that?"

"He said I was a liar and a thief, but this ring had been in the case for six months, and for me only he would accept three hundred. I told him Jeremy would be really pleased and he made a comment about fiance. I said no, Jeremy was the baby, who talked to me all the time. He was laughing and smiling as I walked out."

"You are something else. Do you suppose it really is solid gold?"

She slipped it off. "What do you think? Seems pretty heavy to be plated."

"I think you and it are lovely and we are not going to worry about whether it is gold all the way through."

She smiled, "Clothes next?"

It took three stops before she was satisfied. One for funny blouses, shirts, dresses, and pants. Another for hats, including a pair of Stetsons that set us back serious money. A third for regular sportswear, including a yoga outfit, a running outfit, several tanks, and her selection of things she thought Mac would need. I tried to stare her down and she laughed at me. "You are the one who started the crazy stuff, lover."

Toward the southeast, off 215, we pulled up in front of Quentin and Sons, Quality Restorations. Not flashy. Big building that seemed very busy. In the office, a youngish guy came to the counter and asked, "What can I do for you?"

I pointed out the window and said, "This may sound strange, but I asked that girl to marry me and she said she would if I got a car with a bench seat in front. Is there any chance you can help us out?

He looked at me, and looked out the window and burst out laughing. "Damn, mister, I've heard good stories but this beats them all!"

"She'll kill me if you turn us down. By the way, we are on a road trip for several months, so it needs to be a car that doesn't stand out like a Camaro or a Mustang. The ideal item would be something you were thinking of restoring but have only done suspension and engine so far."

"Come with me." We walked into the shop, where some spectacular vehicles were nearing completion. We continued out the rear entrance into a yard full of tired looking cars from years ago. But I recognized pedigrees. A Pontiac GTO, a couple of Mustangs, two Impalas.

He stopped at a blue Chevy Chevelle convertible. Looked like a 72. Dusty, dirty and tired. He smiled, "I think your girl should get what she wants. Give me a week, and we will do the suspension, slap a crate engine in there, and rework the interior. Complete new upholstery on the front seat."

"How much of my nonexistent fortune do you get for it after the overhaul? I can handle a cash only deal. Throw in a new top and a set of tires too."

"Let's go back to the office and push the pencil."

"Ok if I show it to her?"

When I got back to the car, Wayward was in a damn nice and not quirky cowgirl outfit, with the Stetson and dark glasses. "Girlfriend, I have a likely one to show you."

"Boyfriend, it's only been fifteen minutes. I'm impressed."

We passed through the office and cowgirl got a lot of attention. Same story in the work area. Back in the sun, I led the way to the Chevelle. "Manager says if we give them a week and they don't do any bodywork, it will run like new and look like shit."

"OMG, Brian! It's perfect! Look at that bench seat!"

"It will have brand new upholstery."

She pounded my chest. "I'm going to faint."

I looked up and the manager was approaching, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't get the price down below $34,500. Had to argue with Dad to get to that number. He said underneath all the dirt, the car is a jewel."

I introduced Ben to Marigold, who fluttered her eyes and thanked him for giving us such prompt attention. I said, "Why don't you round that to $40,000 cash, fix the worst rust, and let us have it in five working days?" His eyes weren't on me, they were on Marigold. She said, "Thank you so much. It will be a lovely ride for our trip!"

As we walked back inside, I was asking about a deposit, but he interrupted, "Miss Marigold, if you wouldn't mind, could you not wiggle that incredible behind as we go through the shop? Nobody is doing any work with you around."

"Yes, of course. I understand." She was sedate until we got to the middle of the shop floor, when she suddenly exclaimed loudly, "Oh Ben, that is wonderful! I will love you forever!" And followed that with a hard kiss on his lips. The shop erupted in cheers and catcalls. Ben scuttled to his office entrance. Marigold wrapped her arm around mine and we moved slowly in the same direction. She whispered, "Do you think that might get our job a little attention?"

Ben tried a grim look across the counter, but didn't succeed. "Ma'am, you just wrecked my whole day. I may have to give them extra time off." She reached across and pinched his ear. "You are a faker, but tell your wife that Marigold really appreciates getting the wedding present of the Chevelle with the bench seat."

I left a $5,000 deposit and we walked out, floating on air.

"Princess, you really cooked that deal. The poor guy."

She poked me as we drove away. "Poor my behind! Did you notice how clean and up to date everything was? They keep their eyes open, especially in this town, buy sad sack restorables for nothing, and make gold out of lead."

She held up the ring. "Is that gold plated lead?" And laughed and laughed.

"Yeah, your behind definitely had their eyes open!"

Her voice softened, "Don't be jealous. You rescued me and we are bonded. I even have your ring on!"

I moaned and asked if we were going to the camera place. "Yes, but what about some lunch? Can you spring for penthouse food? Let me look."

While she looked at her phone, I was in the process of figuring out what to do for five days and what to do with my faithful sedan. We were leaving tracks all over town, if someone had access to my credit card file. As it says in the spy novels, time to go underground.

But first, a lunch with a view. Wayward was directing me to one of the strip hotels, where we already had a reservation in the restaurant at the top. After a quick stop for a clothes change, I had a matching outfit to hers, more or less.

I palmed a fifty to the valet, saying "These wheels aren't much but there is expensive camera gear in the luggage. Don't let it get lifted, ok?"

"Yes, sir. I will keep a personal eye on it."

I couldn't believe the transformation in my girlfriend. She led the way to the reception stand, asked for the Westerman reservation, and gave me a nod over her shoulder as we were taken to a window table. The woman promised to take good care of our hats.

"You are fantastic. Where did the poise, the imperial manner, the runway walk come from?"

"It is one of my deep secrets. When we get to discussing those, I'll let you know."

I frowned and she laughed. This was not a location for giggles.

"Please order champagne for yourself and mineral water for me. Then I can have a couple of tiny sips that will not poison poor little Jeremy!"

"I have bad news." I paused to let that sink in. She thought I was kidding at first, but realized I wasn't and asked, "What's wrong?'

"We are leaving too many tracks. Have to find a hideout for five days and go on a cash economy."

Conscious of the tables around us, she put a tight smile on her face and looked at the view, which was fabulous. "I'm being giddy and foolish, aren't I?"

"No, you are having some good days after a string of bad days. I'm not trying to spoil the fun, just taking a few precautions."

"Precautions," she repeated. The hand with the ring went on top of mine. "You are to bring me down to earth anytime it's needed. Ok?"

"Yes. What if we get the extra camera equipment and mosey down to Henderson? Somewhere near the water. Might even go waterskiing on Lake Mead. Take day trips. No credit card, no phone calls. The cell phones completely shut down."

Her hand pulled mine to her lips. "I can't believe a guy I didn't even know three days ago is looking out for me like you are." She wiped her eyes with the napkin as the waiter arrived for an order.

The seafood salads were excellent. We shared sips of the champagne. I wondered if this was a high water mark of some kind. I looked across the table at my quiet partner. God, she was beautiful. And wasn't a salon product like the women around her. The genuine thing, smiling at me.

"What is it now?"

"I'm thinking of my good fortune in having the prettiest girl in the room throw her lot in with mine."

"I'm going to cry if you keep sending zingers my way."

"What about the fact you are about to find an outlaw hideout with me until the heat is off?"

"A secret cave in the desert, with a trickling spring nearby?"

"On a rise with a view for miles so we can spot the posse?"

The waitress clearing the table noticed the ring on the hand I was holding. "Is today a special day?"

"Oh yes, it really is."

I left a large tip.

At the car, I found the camera gear was safe and pressed another fifty into the surprised valet's hand. "You do good work. Buy your girl a nice dinner."

Ambold and Meyer was full of pro photographers and helpful sales people. I let Wayward do the talking. She found a woman clerk and they were instantly conversing about full frame this and special glass that.

I was checking a nice camera bag when her quiet voice at my ear wondered if I was good for sixteen hundred, marked down from two thousand. I handed her the credit card. "This is absolutely the last time, darling." My frown was dark. She poked my rib.

The shopping bag had a brand new Sony body, the latest fast lens, and several other goodies. "She said full frame isn't necessary for what we are doing. Blog shots are never full of pixels."

I wrapped an arm around her, "If you say so, partner."

Driving away, I said, "Sunshine, we need to visit Ben for a minute before leaving town. Is there anything else?"

"What about some hideout food and drink? And what do we need to talk to Ben about?"

"If there is a market near the Quentin shop, I'll drop you off. Explanations later."

There was a market, so I was able to talk to Ben on my own.

He looked across the counter, "Changed your mind already?"

"No way, but I need to talk to you privately for a minute. Can we take a walk?"

Out in the yard, I noticed the Chevelle was already moved. "Ben, I am planning to transfer money to your bank account from mine. You can give me instructions? The account info?"

"Sure, we have customers who do that all the time."

"My girl and I don't have an address here and a bank would give me a hard time about transferring cash. Is it possible to wire you a little extra so we could have some dollars in our pocket when we head out?"

He looked at me, wheels turning. "Sure, how much did you have in mind?"

"Well, you have five from me already, so I owe you thirty-five more. What if we make the transfer for fifty?"

More wheels turning. "We are supposed to report anything over ten. Is this legit? Not hot money?"

I took a deep breath and spilled the story. "You may find this hard to believe, but that fine woman was hitching out on I-15 a few days ago. Waitress in a diner on 66 asked me to give her a ride here. Turned out she is running away from home because she got pregnant at college and her folks wanted an abortion. She told them no and left. To shorten up the story, I've decided to look out for her and the baby. But we need to keep a low profile in case her folks have sent somebody to find her. The money is from a trust my grandparents left me. Seems a good way to spend it."

He said just one word, "Damn," and clapped me on the shoulder. We walked back inside. He was trusting my crazy story. As I left for the car, he said, "Take care of that woman, she is special."

All I could say was, "I know."

(cont'd in Part 2 - A Decidedly Weird Wedding)