C H A P T E R  E I G H T

LELA

“Okay. Yes. I’ll get there.” My voice is thick with ambivalence, and my heart sinks.

One night, is that all I get?

One night, one little peek at what could be before the world comes crashing down around me.

This phone call is what I thought I wanted. But in the span of fewer than forty-eight hours everything has changed, and now I’m not sure what I want anymore.

Dan coughs into the phone before continuing. “They won’t do it without you. I’ve sold them on our program, but they want you. You’re going to be the star, but that only works with my backing. So it’s now or never, Lela, make-or-break time. Whatever the situation is there with the puppy, you need to drop it and hoof it back here. I’ll send someone else to replace you. The Animal Channel has a crew on the way tomorrow morning to start test shooting, and the contract needs to be signed. So get back here. I’ll talk to Shirley. She’s a friend of my dad’s, so don’t worry. I had no idea this was going to happen so fast. They said something about one of the execs getting all worked up about it, wants it to go ahead right now.”

I heave a deep sigh as I look down at Little Shit, now sleeping on her back in the new puppy cage I set up from the training supplies I brought.

When Miller dragged himself out of the workshop this morning he insisted on making a run to town for suitable food for me.  I said I would go, but he refused.  Insisting I stay here and continue my work with Little Shit, which, I must say, is something they both need.

He also made me give him a list of baking supplies.  Ever since I told him of my secret talent he’s been tossing about ideas for testing my skills.  While he was working yesterday I made a batch of plain white cupcakes with a sour cream frosting from the ingredients I could find in the sparse pantry and refrigerator.

So off he went a little while ago, with list in hand. He added socks to the bottom, kissed me and said he’d be back in a couple hours.

And now, all hell has broken loose with Dan and this dang TV show.

“Fine.”

This is what I want, right? My own training show with the famous Dan Sullivan?

“Fine, what? Are you getting in the car? Like, right now? That’s all I need to hear. That you are getting in your car and will be here in two hours.  I already have Jody in her car and headed that way to replace you.”

“Yes, sorry, I mean it will all be fine. I’m leaving right now.”

I click off the call and wonder if I should leave my things here or not. How long will I be gone?

I look down at my phone and think about Dad.  I need to be able to help him out with this money. His health insurance took care of the basics. Rehab to get him healthy enough to climb rigs again is on top of everything else and since he can’t work right now, he can’t earn.

I think of Miller.

I’m a coward when it comes to emotional conversations.  Unsure what else to do, I sit down and write out a pathetic note to Miller.  When I’m done I swipe the back of my hand over my eyes and start shoving my clothes in my duffel.  Collect my training aids and put them in my backpack feeling like I’m going to be sick.

I’ll be back.  So it’s okay right?  I feel as if I’m being drawn and quartered as I walk to the door.  Miller on one leg, my dad on the other, Dan on an arm and all my dreams of having a real job, putting down roots and making some real money on the other. 

Tossing my stuff in the back of the truck, I see the fair-haired, lanky guy that answered the door yesterday. The same one that stood behind Miller at the Renaissance Fair demo.

“Hey.”  I toss a wave his way and he nods.

“How’s it going?”  The twisted little smirk on his face tells me he is probably aware that I am not simply here training Little Shit.

“Good.  But...”  I clear my throat and do my best to sound casual.  “Listen I have an emergency.  There is another trainer on their way, but Little Shit is sleeping in the crate inside. Can you check on her in about an hour?”

He looks at me with a squint, shoving his hands into his jeans.  “Sure.  You coming back?”  The concern in his voice only makes me want to leave faster.  I’m not sure why I have such a hard time actually talking to people.

“Uh, yep.  But I gotta go. So you’ll look in on Little Shit until my replacement gets here?”

He nods and watches as I fluster and dive into the driver’s seat of the truck.

As quickly as I can, I start her up and head down the driveway, slow in a conflicted hope that maybe Miller will pull in as I pull out.  My desire to touch him outweighs my need to avoid the conversation about why I’m leaving.  But that I will be back.

I will be back, right?

I’m signing a contract to potentially go across the country filming a TV show.   Even after all his years and success, Dan still lives out of his RV six months out of the year.  And he said it took some hard negotiations to even be able to do that. 

I haven’t signed yet. I’m only signing for a few shows if that.  I could be horrible and they won’t even want me.

But if they do, it’s back to my gypsy lifestyle for a year. But it is just a year. After that, I’ll be back. I will.

Unless the contract is extended. Unless the show is a success. Then, who knows. Maybe the road is where I belong. It’s what I know. Maybe it’s the universe telling me putting down roots is not for me.

I groan and bang my hands on the steering wheel.

Maybe I am a lifelong member of Team Airstream.

I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself.

I’m so distracted when I take the little curve in the driveway I nearly run into the front of a black stretch limo. I swerve, thinking I’m in its path, but it just swings around onto the dirt driveway behind me, heading for the shop. I settle my truck off on the edge near some pine trees to catch my breath and crane my neck to see who’s here in a limo.

My truck hums under me as the doors to the long black auto open, and I expect Gavin Roxton to come out the guitar player for The Rational Tides.  Miller told me he was the one that commissioned the swords.

Instead, what looks like Hugh Hefner’s last few wives topple out. Half drunk and half clothed, giggling and jostling before Gavin follows with another Barbie Doll on his arm.

They move toward the door to the shop and I recall all the photos along the hall in the house.  All the Hollywood types. It’s time to go. Maybe this was too much, too soon. I don’t know much at all about Miller, and from what I’m seeing, I’m no match for this sort of competition.

I rev the engine on my pick up and throw it back in drive, punching the accelerator harder than I intended. The spray of gravel from the tires sends rocks pinging into the rusty metal bed. I swipe the back of my arm across my eyes as I do my best to convince myself I’ll be back soon.

It’s almost lunchtime when I get to Dan’s compound. I’m exhausted. And sore. Every step and movement I make reminds me of Miller being inside me. I’m raw and overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions.

“Thank God you’re here at last. Don’t blow this. For you or for me.” Dan’s flustered, and I’m already on a jagged edge.

“Hey,” I snap as he starts shoving papers in front of me and jabbing a pen into my hand. “You sent me to do a job. I didn’t know all this was going to come up so fast. You can’t be pissed at me. I drove back here as soon as you called, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”  He settles a bit and I’m surprised I’m speaking to my employer this way. “Just sign, please. I have the producer breathing down my neck. For some reason, it’s now or never. Something about a time slot to be filled. They had a crew scheduled and for some reason the reality show they were going to film fell through. Now they want to make use of the people they are paying anyway.”

He takes a deep breath and sits behind his desk with his hands locking behind his head. 

“It’s not that I don’t want this.”  I calm my voice. “It’s just a surprise.”

“I know, but this is just to do the pilot and two episodes, you understand. Nothing is set in stone at this point. But if that goes well, the final contract will be for twenty-two episodes. Twenty-two cities, all across the country in one year. Let’s nail this, Lela. You’re going to be a star I can feel it. Maybe not as big as me. But still. The opportunity of a lifetime for someone like you.”

Someone like me? Get over yourself.

I set the pen to the paper. My head is swimming. Thinking of Miller. Of what I did. How I could have his baby inside me right now.

“And, check out the numbers there in paragraph six Lela.”  The excitement in his voice makes my throat tighten as my eyes light on the dollar figures where he’s now pointing.  “That’s real money.  Help your Dad money.  Help you money.  Real money.”

Then I think about my dad. He doesn’t have many more years of rig-life left in him.  It’s hard. He’s on for twenty-four hours a day for a week or more.  He’s hurt now.  He’s exhausted and this could buy him some time and maybe other choices. 

“Now sign. Let’s get this show on the road.” Dan snaps his hands from behind his neck and claps together loudly, and my heart skips a beat as the ink hits the page.