Bike Week Blues Page 4

  Ruthie came to my rescue. “Depression is a sure sign of a Vatta imbalance. How about a warm sesame oil massage?” she said brightly. “Nothing better to realign your humors.”

  “You want to patta my vatta?” Penny Sue quipped.

  She was coming around.

  Ruthie shook her head peevishly. “Yes, Ms. Smarty Pants. Go put on your swimsuit, and I’ll warm the oil.”

  The laughing and sesame massage lifted Penny Sue’s spirits considerably, but it was Deputy Ted Moore’s arrival for dinner that really fine-tuned her humors. Simply, testosterone worked on Penny Sue like Prozac.

  When Ted arrived, I met him at the door and explained the situation. “Let me see what I can do.”

  Well, the boy’s good. A few superlatives about her new motorcycle and, next thing I knew, Penny Sue was hugging his waist and they were riding off into the sunset. I have to admit that I felt a tinge of jealousy. I’d never hugged Ted’s waist. We’d both been so adamant about merely being friends, we went through an awkward avoidance rite whenever we found ourselves within two feet of each other.

  Ruthie read my mind. “You know, Penny Sue’s just the touchy, feely type.” She nodded in the direction they’d gone. “It doesn’t mean anything. Besides, it might be time for you to loosen up a little.”

  “What do you mean, loosen up?”

  “Just a thought,” she said, heading down the hall to the great room. “Me thinks ye doth protest too much about Deputy Ted.”

  “You, of all people, know I’m not ready for a relationship, and neither is he. We’re buddies and we both like it that way.”

  “Whatever you say. Come on, let’s catch the news.”

  The hour-long show was almost over before Penny Sue and Ted returned. As time drew on, the tinge of jealously I’d felt before grew to a trickle.

  Penny Sue bounced down the hall grinning from ear to ear. “Look what I have,” she exclaimed, waving a videocassette with huge red lips on the cover. “Rocky Horror! Ted and I thought—”

  Ted and I. The trickle expanded to a good-sized stream.

  “—we could get take-out from the steakhouse and watch the movie. Won’t that be fun?” She put her hands on her hips and started hopping around, mimicking the Time Warp dance number from the movie. A few hours ago she was in the pits of depression, and I felt fine. Now, she was back to her old self, and I felt like hell. A strange turn of events, if you ask me.

  My eyes must have shot darts, because Penny Sue abruptly stopped the antics. “Ted, take Leigh for a ride on my bike.” She handed me her helmet. “Come on, it’s fun. We’ll order dinner while you’re gone.”

  “The bike handles like a dream, and it’s a beautiful night.” Ted flashed his movie star smile.

  My jealousy evaporated. “Okay,” I said, strangely excited by the prospect of clinching his waist.

  “Wait, what do you want to eat?” Penny Sue was back in charge. All was well.

  I opted for chicken and shrimp, while Ted ordered prime rib.

  “And dessert, we must have dessert,” Penny Sue decreed.

  “Chocolate’s good for depression,” Ruthie commented.

  Penny Sue winked at me. “And, an aphrodisiac,” she said under her breath. “What’s that super, duper chocolate thing?”

  “Chocolate Avalanche,” Ruthie replied, nearly swooning.

  “Right,” Penny Sue said, adding that to the list with a big star. “We’ll get a couple of them.”

  * * *

  This was the first time I’d ever ridden on a motorcycle. Until that night, I’d viewed bikes as loud, dangerous, and borderline uncouth. My opinion changed immediately. First, there was something positively sexual about the low rumble and rhythmic vibration of the motorcycle. (Better than having a vibrating cell phone in your pocket!) Add to that the musty scent of Ted’s cologne, the muscular warmth of his back, and the feeling of oneness as we leaned into the curves, and I was close to heaven. But, the icing on the cake was the feeling of elation and freedom I got from the wind in my face—the same sensation I felt as a kid, when I coasted my bike down the long, winding hill in front of my parent’s house. I snuggled closer to Ted as we took the swooping curve where A1A paralleled the beach. Maybe Ruthie was right; I should relax a little.

  The food was waiting when we returned to the condo. No time was wasted since our dinners were cooling fast and re-warming steak seldom worked. As we caught our breath before tackling dessert, Ted asked, “What are your plans for the week? I assume you’ll hit some of the bike events.”

  “Do you think it’s safe for the three of us to attend without a male escort?” Ruthie asked nervously.

  “Some of the places in Daytona can get a little rough, but you’ll be fine if you stick to the beaten path.”

  “Bobby Barnes suggested we go to the Pub,” I said.

  Ted nodded. “The Pub, J.B.’s, the restaurants on Flagler, even Main Street in Daytona—you’ll be fine at any of them. In fact, I’ll probably be doing traffic duty at the Pub most of the week.”

  The Pub it is, I thought. I turned to Ruthie. “Bike Week is world famous. We really should go to a few events.”

  Ruthie didn’t look particularly excited, but didn’t get a chance to argue. Penny Sue started the tape for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and began passing around the desserts. The rest of the evening was a blur of food and frivolity, which did everyone, especially Penny Sue, a world of good.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  I awoke to the smell of coffee which summoned a memory so old, I’d never have guessed it was there. I thought of Zack. When we were first married, before the kids, Zack would make the morning coffee. An ambitious young lawyer in Parker, Hanson, and Swindal, one of the most prestigious law firms in Atlanta, he got up at five so he could beat his colleagues to work. In those days there was intense competition between the associates, each vying to rack up the most billable hours to insure they’d receive a coveted partnership. Everyone tried to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, which meant no one left while a single partner was on the floor, after which, they still played a silly cat and mouse game to see who could outlast whom. Thankfully, by the third year, Zack and his close colleagues came to an unspoken agreement that they’d all leave together. A darn good thing, otherwise I’d never have seen my husband, and we certainly wouldn’t have had children.

  I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. All of that happened twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five years, a quarter of a century. I suddenly felt very old.

  Old. Hey, today was Ruthie’s birthday. Finally, we were all the same age.

  I snatched a cotton robe from the closet and followed the scent of Colombian roast. Ruthie sat at the kitchen counter reading the newspaper. The television, tuned to CNN, played in the background. An insatiable news junkie, Ruthie was never out of touch with world events. Which struck me as ironic, considering her metaphysical leanings. As far as I could tell, most of the woo-woo people avoided the media claiming, at best, it fostered fear and wanton materialism. At worst, it was nothing but a mouthpiece for a vast right wing—or left, depending on one’s political philosophy—conspiracy.

  I snuck up behind Ruthie and started to sing softly. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you—”

  A thunderous warble came from the hall. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR RUTHIE,” Penny Sue skipped into the great room, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU-U-U. And man-n-ny mo-ore.” She was wearing the red silk robe with a dragon embroidered on the back, holding her cell phone, and grinning like a stereotypical Cheshire cat. For a person who’d been in the pits of depression less than twenty-four hours earlier, she’d made a remarkable recovery, I thought.

  “Thank you, thank you.” Ruthie ducked her head modestly. “All good wishes are gratefully accepted.”

  “You’re getting much more than wishes,” Penny Sue said enthusiastically as she rounded the counter and poured a cup of coffee. She smiled above the rim of her mug. “You’re going t
o get the royal treatment.” She grinned at me. “In fact, we’re all getting the royal treatment.”

  “You sure are chipper this morning,” I observed, filling my own mug.

  “Of course, I’m here with my best friends.” She motioned at the sun streaming through the sliding glass doors that faced the ocean. “It’s a beautiful day,” she paused dramatically ...

  “And?” I prodded. I knew something was up.

  Penny Sue held up her cell phone, giggling like a teenager. She punched in a few digits and a message began to play. A man’s voice sounded, low and slow as if he were whispering. “Penny Sue, I’m sorry I was so abrupt yesterday. I do care about you and didn’t mean to hurt you. So much is going on. I need some time. I’m going away for a few days; I’ll call when I get back. You’re very special to me, Bun—” Her thumb hit the off button.

  “Wait,” Ruthie said. “What was that last part? I couldn’t quite make it out.”

  I nudged Penny Sue with my elbow. “Yeah, let’s hear that again.”

  Penny Sue pursed her lips huffishly. “It’s just a nickname.”

  Ruthie arched a brow. “Did he say, butt? He calls you Butt?”

  That got her. Penny Sue drew up to her full five-foot-eight stature. “Not butt—Bunny,” she said smugly. “As in Honey Bunny.”

  I gave a low whistle. “Honey Bunny? That is serious.”

  Ruthie nodded. “Like I said, it was all a misunderstanding. Rich was probably acting tough in front of his friends. You know how men are—have to play Mr. Macho all the time. Besides, you don’t know who the guys were. He said they were friends, but one of them could have been his wife’s brother or cousin or something.”

  It was good to see Penny Sue back to her sassy self. I clicked my mug to hers. “I know you’re relieved. I’m happy for you.”

  “Yeah. Yesterday was completely out of character for the Rich I know. It threw me for a loop. He’s not the chest beating, macho type. Yet, all’s well that ends well.” She opened the refrigerator. “Y’all want a bagel or some cereal?”

  “Raisin bran,” I said quickly, still feeling stuffed from the decadent chocolate desserts we’d eaten the night before. Even miming the Rocky Horror Picture Show’s dance numbers did little to work off the heavy dinners.

  “What’s in the news today, Ruthie?” Penny Sue asked as she poured three bowls of cereal.

  “Weather for Bike Week is supposed to be perfect. Record crowds are expected.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “Last year was rained out—a real bust.”

  Ruthie flipped to the front page and scanned the headlines. “An Atlas V rocket is scheduled to go next week. They haven’t announced the launch time, because of the terrorist threat. It’s taking up a military communications satellite.” She looked up from the newspaper as Penny Sue slid Ruthie’s cereal onto the counter. “Do you think we’ll be able to see it from here?”

  “Sure, a perfect view from the beach,” Penny Sue said between bites of cereal. “As the crow flies, Cape Canaveral is only about 30 miles. I hope it’s a night launch. When the shuttle goes at night, it’s like the sun coming up. You can’t believe how it lights up the sky.”

  “When will they announce the launch time?”

  “Twenty-four hours in advance.”

  Penny Sue shook her head. “This terrorism stuff is a real bummer. I hate to fly anymore, it’s such a hassle.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” I said.

  Ruthie nodded. “A shipment of missiles and ammunition was hijacked in North Carolina yesterday. The police have no clues and speculate it could be anyone from Mafioso arms dealers to American extremists to Al-Qaeda.”

  “There are a lot of kooks in this world. That’s why I carry a .38,” Penny Sue declared.

  Yes, and you’re one of them, I thought bleakly. Her last .38 got us in a passel of trouble, all because a guy called her a bitch. I hoped she kept the darned gun in her purse during this visit.

  “Do you still have the Taser?” Ruthie asked me.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s in the linen closet.” A cutting-edge prototype that Ruthie’s father sent us for protection, the liquid Taser looked like a child’s super soaker squirt gun. Only this booger was no beach toy. Unlike the models used by police which shot barbed probes on wires, this gun used an electrified saline solution capable of delivering a shock that knocked manly men on their behinds. Simply put, this Taser had multiple shots, a range of 25 feet, and could stun more than one person. And, the good news, it was a completely defensive weapon that wouldn’t seriously injure anyone unless, perhaps, they had a pacemaker. “I received a shipment of electrolyte solution before you arrived. Your dad obviously wanted to make sure you’d be safe.”

  “Is the battery charged?” Penny Sue asked.

  “Yes, I charge it once a week. Even with the new alarm system, I like having it around. It gives me a sense of security. Ted thinks it’s a good idea, too.”

  “Ted thinks—”

  I cut Penny Sue off. “What else is in the news, Ruthie?”

  “There’s a feature article on Dolly Parton’s theater in Orlando. You eat dinner while watching a rodeo.”

  I grimaced. “That sounds a little stinky to me. I mean, horses aren’t usually potty trained, are they?”

  Penny Sue waved dismissively. “I’m sure they’ve worked around that—deodorized dirt or something. Besides, I like Dolly Parton. Her hair’s a little extreme, but I admire her guts—she’s not afraid to be who she is.”

  Ruthie chuckled. “You’ll love this, then. The article quotes Dolly as saying, ‘It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.’”

  Penny Sue hooted. “I can relate. My biker get-up cost a fortune. Maybe we should go to the show. Is Dolly in town?”

  An image of Dolly Parton and Penny Sue, both riding Harleys and decked out in the white leather wedding ensemble, popped into my mind. What a pair they’d be. They’d either hate each other or love each other—no middle ground. That was one meeting I’d love to witness. “I’m game.”

  Ruthie scanned the article again. “It doesn’t say whether she’s here.”

  “Well, if the week gets boring, we’ll give it a whirl.” Penny Sue rinsed her cereal bowl and put it in the dishwasher. “Leigh, do you mind making another pot of coffee? I’m going to get something, and y’all must promise not to peek.”

  “Is this part of the royal treatment?” I asked, feigning fear. For Penny Sue, the royal treatment could encompass a lot.

  “Yes, I promise you’ll love it. Don’t look—this may take a minute.”

  Ruthie rolled her eyes. I made the coffee. Who knew what would appear? A male stripper might come streaking through. Cute puppies, handpicked men for each of us, dozens of roses, biker outfits—heck, bikes!—anything was possible with Penny Sue.

  I’d chided her for her extravagance, especially recently, when I couldn’t afford to reciprocate. She blew me off like a pesky fly. “Forget it, this is Harold’s money. I get a HUGE THRILL out of spending it!” Harold was the rich, second husband who’d had an affair with his male assistant. For all her bluster, Penny Sue’d never gotten over that slight. As heartbreaking as any divorce was, there’s an extra kick when a person like Penny Sue gets dumped for a man.

  Ruthie and I didn’t have to wait long. The coffee had just started to drip when noises came from the hallway. “Whoops!” a mechanical voice, reminiscent of Ruthie and Penny Sue’s Furbies (a long story) said. Another second, and “Whoops!” again. I came around the L-shaped bar, while Ruthie leaned back in her chair.

  It was classic Penny Sue. A robot about two feet tall, looking like R2D2 from Star Wars, rolled erratically down the hall, exclaiming “Whoops!” every time it hit the baseboard. Penny Sue stood by the front door with a remote control that she’s obviously not mastered. The mechanical man’s right arm was raised to balance a tray with an envelope on top.

  Ruthie giggled with glee and hopped down from her stool.

  The robo
t, sensing her presence, stopped and said, “Hello, hello, hello.”

  “What’s his name?” Ruthie called to Penny Sue.

  Penny Sue strode down the corridor. “Not him, her. This is Lu Nee 2.”

  Even I had to laugh at that one. Lu Nee 1 was Penny Sue’s Furby that had met an untimely end.

  “What else does Lu Nee do?” I asked.

  “She’s our new maid and bodyguard.”

  “Maid?” Ruthie said.

  “Sure, we can use her to serve drinks and snacks.”

  I took the remote from Penny Sue. “Assuming we can master this thing.” I studied the control panel’s three-inch color display surrounded by a slew of buttons and dials. “We need a ten-year-old to show us how it works.”

  Penny Sue leaned over my shoulder and pointed to the screen. “It transmits everything Lu Nee sees and hears.”

  “Great, we can use it to spy on each other.” I said flippantly, giving back the control.

  “Not on each other, intruders.” Penny Sue pointed to a button on the right of the unit. “See, it has a Sentry mode that detects motion and issues an alert.” She pushed the button, Lu Nee 2 swiveled slightly, then demanded, “Halt! Who goes there?”

  “Cool,” Ruthie exclaimed.

  “Well, don’t stand there, take the letter,” Penny Sue ordered.

  Ruthie snatched the envelope and angled it so I could see. It had Riverview Hotel embossed in the upper left corner.

  Riverview Hotel! The name unleashed a flood of memories about my divorce and our vacation in October. From Ruthie’s hesitation, I could tell it affected her the same way. Lu Nee 2 lurched forward. “Watch out!” Darn, the robotic beast had Penny Sue’s personality. Ruthie and I both jumped backward.

  I nudged Ruthie with my elbow. “Open the envelope before we get killed.”

  “Right.” She ripped it open, making no effort to be neat. Inside were three gift certificates for the Royal Treatment at the new Riverview Spa.

  Penny Sue smiled broadly. “No argument. I’ve made all the arrangements. First, we’re getting the Royal Treatment at the spa, then we’re having a gourmet dinner at the Riverview Restaurant. The three of us, on the deck. Just like old times.