CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Skittles? Salt and vinegar chips? Twizzlers?”

Brent plucked the snack foods from a dusty shelf, wiggling each bag in front of his wife.

She crinkled her nose. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, these might be stale.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think many people come around here too often.” He peered at the expiration date on the Skittles. “Whoa. These Skittles were past their prime two years ago.”

She laughed half-heartedly as he dropped the unwanted snacks on their shelves.

“I’ll just get a soda,” she said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the fountain drinks at the Lucky Seven Gas & Go somewhere in the middle of the desert. As far as he knew, they were halfway between Hawthorne and Vegas, which meant two and half more hours of cruising south on the highway to home.

“Shan, you need to eat. You haven’t had anything all day.”

“Maybe just some pretzels then,” she said. “Pretzels taste expired anyway.”

He grabbed a pretzel pack with gusto, as if his enthusiasm for potentially out-of-date road trip snacks would somehow buoy her spirits. She walked to the soda fountain, grabbed a cup, and pressed it against the Diet Coke spout. She leaned forward slowly, as if she was starting to tip over, then rested her forehead against the dispenser. She’d slept the whole ride back so far, slumping against the passenger seat with her shades on after she’d left the prison and given Brent the cliff notes as they drove out of Hawthorne.

Crossing the distance in a second, he took the cup from her. “I’ll do it.”

She rested her head against his chest. “Thank you.”

It was only a soda. That was all he was doing. Filling a flimsy paper cup at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. But it was something he alone could do for her right now. And she needed it.

He finished filling the cup and popped a lid on it.

“I’m sorry I made you drive me all the way here for nothing,” she said.

“Hey. You did not make me do anything. I chose to. And it was not nothing.” He set the cup down on the counter, and lifted her chin. “It was not nothing.”

“But you missed your meeting and it’s just the same old stuff with my mom.”

“Then that’s something. That’s exactly what you needed to know.”

“The same old stuff?”

He nodded. “The same old stuff. Because now you know. Now you know that nothing has changed. Now you can stop worrying that something is going to change. This is the same stuff she did to you in college,” he said, running a thumb along her jawline as he held her gaze. “She tried to work you over. She tried to get you to believe her madness. And you are good, and loving, and you did the right thing by seeing her, Shan. You visited her; you listened to her. You did a loving thing without compromising who you are. And now, you can let it go. The past is the past.”

* * *

She leaned her cheek into his hand, so strong, and so soft at the same time too. “How did you get to be so wise?” she asked softly.

“My wife taught me how,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead, then rubbing her belly. “Now I need to go pay for this stale nourishment I’m procuring for you.”

He picked up the soda and pretzels and walked to the cash register to pay. As she watched him, she couldn’t help but feel an unexpected pang of guilt over the day, and what he’d miss tomorrow. The Tribeca club had been his single-minded mission for expansion, and he’d worked his ass off to please the neighborhood. He’d come so close, and she’d even made the video to show them at the meeting this weekend.

Then it hit her. Like a bag of obvious smacking into her. The answer had been under her nose and on her phone the whole time. She didn’t know if it would make a difference to the neighborhood association, but she had to try. As Brent finished paying, she fired off a quick text to James, grateful she still had his number from the first night they’d met.

Ten minutes later, she had an email address for Alan Hughes, and the video she’d made was on its way to him as they pulled back onto the highway.

A few miles down the road, a sign rose into view, the rays of the dipping sun illuminating the battered wooden billboard. Gateway to Death Valley, Beatty, Nevada. Established 1903. Population 1000. It stood proudly amidst the sand and rocks, the dryness and dust.

Twenty feet away, there was a sign for a Motel 6.

Shannon touched Brent’s arm and pointed to the sign, then wiggled her eyebrows.

He cut the wheel at the exit, and they checked into a fifty-nine dollar a night room at a hotel that boasted a coin laundry, free local calls, and morning coffee on the house.

As well as a bed that squeaked, she learned as she pushed down on the springs of the mattress inside room number fourteen, on the first floor with a view of the parking lot.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“What do you want to do?”

She ran her fingers along the silky fabric of her scarf. “I want you to fuck the day away.”

His lips quirked up. “That is my specialty,” he said, and soon he’d stripped her naked and tied her hands with the scarf, knotting the ends to the headboard of the creaky motel bed. “I knew this gift would come in handy.”

“It’s a multi-use scarf,” she said, squirming, as he began to kiss her.

No, he didn’t just kiss her.

He worshipped her.

He caressed her breasts with his lips. He nipped her throat with his teeth. He adored her belly with his tongue, working his way across the landscape of her body, marking the territory of her with his lips, and his sighs, and his groans. As he traveled across her with his tongue, she let the day fall away. She gave herself over to passion.

Her hips shot up, seeking more of him, begging with her body for him to work his magic.

But it was more than just magic. He was more than just her sweet drug as he consumed her and sent her soaring into a state of ecstatic bliss that had her singing his name to the heavens.

He flipped her over, her wrists still bound to the headboard, and sank into her. She cried out, louder than she’d ever been, more aroused than she’d ever been, there on her hands and knees in a Motel 6.

Yes, it was so much more than mere intoxication. Sex with Brent flooded her brain with endorphins, filled her body with pleasure, and freed the past.

He wasn’t just fucking the day away. This connection, this deep and abiding love, was part of the letting go. As they came together in a mad carnal frenzy, the past crumbled to dust.

There was no more past.

It was done. It was over.

There was only the present, only love, only life. Her life together with her man.

* * *

As he lifted his fork for a final bite of scrambled eggs and hash browns at a truck stop diner an hour outside of Vegas, Brent’s phone rang. It rattled on the table, blinking Tanner’s name across the screen.

Brent groaned. He showed the screen to Shannon, and she simply shrugged. “Maybe it’s good news?” she suggested.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. I knew you were funny,” he said as the ringer sounded again. “I’m sure he’s calling to tell me I’ll never get a club approved in New York.”

Brent slid his thumb across the screen and answered. “Hey Tanner.”

“Congratulations,” the man barked.

Brent narrowed his eyes. Waiting for the sucker to come. You’ve been punked, you jackass.

A waitress in a starchy pink diner uniform stopped at their table, holding up a pot of coffee.

“Thanks. But for what?” Brent asked carefully, holding up his mug for a refill. It was early in the afternoon. They’d slept in late that morning, then extended the shower by a few orgasms, and didn’t hit the road until noon.

“They fucking loved your wife’s video. They loved it,” Tanner said, as if he were licking each word like a lollipop.

“What video?” Brent asked, though the word tickled a distant memory. Shannon had said something once about making a video of the Edge rehearsal in San Francisco. “Of the dancers in San Francisco?”

“That. But it was mostly all the soundbytes. Something from James. Something from some chick who’s known you forever. Mindy, I think. A few nice words from that hotel guy. A bunch of others, too. But I think they liked your wife and her note most of all.”

Brent caught Shannon’s gaze as she brought her mug to her lips and drank some coffee. Her eyes were full of mischief.

“What did my wife’s note say?”

Tanner cleared his throat. “It said, and I quote. ‘Please accept my apologies that my husband was unable to attend your picnic. I was very much looking forward to joining him and meeting you as well. I had an urgent family matter to attend to here in Nevada, and needed to visit my mother. My husband wanted to be by my side, so he chose to come with me. I hope this video I made of his work, and his friends, colleagues, and family will show you that he’s not only the man on stage telling dirty jokes. He’s a man with a heart of gold.’”

Brent’s heart raced. It tripped out of his chest and leapt into Shannon’s hands. “She did that?”

“She did. She’s a keeper. Hey, I’m here with Alan. He’ll tell you officially.”

Alan took the phone, and spoke. “The neighborhood association is firmly behind you.”

After the call ended, Brent switched sides and moved in next to Shannon on the sky blue, cracked vinyl booth. “Seems like you were up to something,” he said with a smile. “Want to show me the video of this guy with the heart of gold?”

She rustled through her bag for her phone, opened a video file and hit play. He watched, filled with awe and astonishment that she’d found all his friends and family and asked them to say a few words. Nate appeared on screen to talk about Brent’s business skills, then Travis said some kind words about how long they’d been friends, and how he’d trust him like he did his firefighter buddies. Mindy batted next, his dear, sweet friend saying, “Brent is the one of the greatest guys I’ve ever known. We help each other. He’s helped me through some sad times, and I’ve helped him, too. He’s like a brother.” Brent parked his chin in his hand as he watched his brother talk about how he’d helped him plan a proposal for his wife, then Julia shared a story about how Brent had helped her out when she’d run into some trouble. Even Bob at the Comedy Club talked about how Brent had done everything he could to find a job for him when his had ended.

Finally, Shannon showed him the note she’d written to Alan. This time she read it out loud to him, and he loved the sound of it in her voice, especially the final words.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. Madly,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that at all. But I’m thrilled you did.”

“You once made a video hoping I’d see it and know you were still thinking of me. It seemed only fitting that I should make this for you, and help you get what you wanted.”

“Babe,” he said, cupping her cheeks and moving in for a kiss. “I already have everything I’ve ever wanted.”