We pull up and Olivia tears over to Susannah. She throws her arms around my sister, crying.
“Oh thank Gawd you’re here. I thought I’d be stuck on the side of the road forever.”
“Yes,” I intone. “I can’t imagine the terror of being stuck on the middle of the road a mere thirty feet from the closest restaurant.”
Both women ignore me as Susannah consoles Olivia. As she sobs uncontrollably, I watch them for a few moments, shaking my head. Olivia is about five-four and blonde. Her golden shoulder-length curls are glistening in the sunlight and her slender arms, a deep brown from all of her beach time, seem to glow. She has the most vivid blue eyes and long, dark eyelashes. She’s kind of hot, in a false innocence, batting her eyelashes, annoying kind of way. It still amazes me that Sam had sex with her. I mean, I know she loves straight women and all, but did she have to pick one that was such a pain in the ass? Still, to give her credit, Olivia is good-looking, Sam likes blondes, and maybe she hadn’t talked yet before Sam took her home that night.
I grumble to myself as I reach in and put on the parking brake. The ground looks stable enough, so I slip the jack under the car and raise it a bit. Olivia is still crying on Susannah’s shoulder. I’m going to cry if I can’t get these friggin’ lug nuts off.
“...and next thing I knew, there was a loud noise and the wheel started jerking in my hand,” I overhear Olivia stuttering to Susannah. I can’t handle this. Everyone in the world has had a flat tire. Trying to ignore the women, I finish taking off the old tire and putting on the spare. I throw the old tire into the trunk and turn to my sister and her best friend.
“You’re set. Drive over to Hank’s and he’ll tell you if he can patch the old tire. If he can, it will cost about ten bucks. If he can’t, he can sell you some retreads for a decent price.” I turn to Susannah. “Take me home.”
“No, you can’t!” Olivia looks stricken. “I can’t go there by myself. They’ll eat me alive.”
Before I can even open my mouth, Susannah has her arm through Olivia’s arm and they’re walking toward the Focus together. “I’ll ride with Olivia and you can follow us in the jeep.”
Fuming, I throw the jeep into drive and head over to Hank’s place, not bothering to wait for the women to get themselves situated. For all I know, Olivia has to reapply her eight pounds of lipstick before she goes to see the car dudes.
Pulling into the garage, I raise a hand at the guys and look around for Hank. He spots me first and heads over, wiping his hands on a rag that’s covered with oil, grease, and who knows what. He holds his hand out and I shake it.
“You need something? Your sister’s jeep got a problem?”
“No, her friend had a flat tire. I put the spare on and she’ll need a patch.”
The Focus pulls in and I wave at Susannah and point at Hank. She gives me a thumbs up, so I leave her keys in the jeep and head down the road. I figure I’ll walk over to The Sands, a high end resort where Sam is the head of maintenance. She can give me a ride home when she gets a break.
A car pulls up next to me and I look in the window. Esmé. Nodding to her, I keep walking. She pulls abreast of me again and sticks her head out the window.
“Where are you going?”
“Not far enough to need a ride.”
“Come on.” She laughs. “Don’t be scared. I don’t bite.”
“I’m not scared,” I mutter. Coming around to the passenger side, I let myself in and slide down in the seat. It’s a decent enough car, but small. What is it with these women driving these tiny cars? “You’re going to have to be careful on these roads,” I say. “The potholes have been known to swallow buffalo whole.”
“I didn’t realize there were buffalo on the island,” she grins.
“There aren’t. They were eaten by the potholes.”
I direct her to The Sands and fall silent, staring out the window. I can feel her glancing at me from time to time, but I pretend not to notice. Finally, she breaks the silence.
“So, do you want to talk about your dreams?”
“Nope.”
“About Fran?”
“Not a chance.”
“The price of tea in China? Wow, you would make a fascinating subject for a talk show.”
“I’m a fascinating woman,” I say, dryly.
She chuckles a bit and stares out the windshield for a couple of minutes. “You know, I loved Fran, too.”
“I don’t know you.” This woman is presuming a lot. “I don’t know anything about you. How do I know you even know Fran?”