“If you can find a place with a bar in it, or a bar and grill-type place nearby, that’d be great. I could go for a drink and an appetizer or something,” I suggested as I drove. I’d eaten a light dinner, and was definitely feeling hungry again.
I waited for Ginger’s reaction, and when she said, “Sounds good,” I felt a wave of relief.
I’d been kind of worried that she’d comment on my drinking every night, but so far, she’d seem down for it. Maybe she just figured I was living it up while on vacation. I hoped that was the case. I really liked Ginger, and didn’t want her to think I had a problem.
“Here’s one,” Ginger said after a couple minutes. “It’s just ten more miles down the road, then off to the right. There’s a restaurant and bar downstairs, and they have double rooms available.”
“Perfect,” I replied with a smile, excited to have a destination locked down. “I’m ready to get out of this car.”
“I hear that,” Ginger responded, bouncing in her seat. “Maybe we can take a walk … Or, I can hit the gym in the hotel, if you don’t feel like it.”
“A walk sounds good.” I almost groaned at the thought of how good it would feel to stretch my legs.
We found the hotel easily, checked in, and lugged our bags upstairs. It seemed silly to have to take my entire suitcase inside, since we were only staying one night. I should have thought ahead and got a smaller overnight bag. Maybe I’ll pick one up before we get back on the road.
Once our stuff was put away, we took off to stretch our legs. Luckily, there were sidewalks, and the neighborhood seemed to be pretty good.
We walked for about a half hour, then made our way back to the hotel, where we agreed to meet in the hotel bar. Ginger wanted to run up to the room, freshen up, and giver her mother a call, but I was ready to make a beeline straight for the bar.
I sat at one of the stools and ordered a Long Island, then looked around while I waited. It wasn’t bad, as far as hotel bars go. Not too fancy, but not a dive either. There were stools around the bar, booths against the wall, and high tables in between. It was nine o’clock at night, and only about ten customers. There was a jukebox in the corner, which currently had Foreigner blasting out.
“Thanks,” I said when I saw the drink slide in front of me, out of the corner of my eye.
“You’re welcome,” was the deep, rumbly reply, and I looked up to see the handsome bartender smiling down at me.
I gave a quick smile in return, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to encourage any flirtation either. All I wanted was to down this drink before Ginger arrived, then order another as if it were my first. I felt a twinge of guilt at the deception, but I didn’t want to give her a reason to be alarmed.
“Can I have another, please?”
Unlike in Vegas, a look of surprise crossed the bartender’s face, before he nodded and left me alone with my drink.
I sucked it down quickly, then pushed it away from me, toward the working end of the bar. The bartender came back and scooped it up, then placed the fresh drink in front of me.
“Thanks,” I said again. This time, he didn’t reply, but rather walked quickly down to the other end of the bar.
Whatever … stupid, judgy, handsome bartender, I thought sourly as the potency of the first drink began to hit.
“Hey,” Ginger’s twinkly voice startled me from behind. “You want to sit in a booth so we can order those appetizers?”
“Sure,” I replied, eager to get new server.
I turned and slid off the stool, then grabbed my drink and followed her to the table.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, or I would have ordered you a drink.”
“No problem, I’ll just order one when we order the food,” she replied sunnily, and I suddenly wondered what it would feel like to be that cheerful and carefree. It seemed like I hadn’t been carefree in ages.
I bit back a groan when the bartender rounded the bar and approached our table.
“What can I get for you?” he asked Ginger, his tone friendly.
“How about a mojito,” Ginger replied with a pretty smile for the bartender, then she looked at me and asked, “and an appetizer combo?”
I nodded in agreement, not wanting to give the surly bartender any further attention.
Ginger looked at me curiously, then asked, “Do you want another?”
I nodded again, which caused her pretty smile to turn into an even prettier frown.
She quickly turned her frown upside down and added sunnily, “And another one of what she’s having. Thanks, honey.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, then took a healthy drink. “Did you get ahold of your mother?”
“I sure did,” she replied, and I knew she was going to let my strange behavior slide. I was really grateful to her for that.
I smiled at her, happy that she was in my life, and on this trip with me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed human companionship, until I’d found it again.
Chapter 8
We were back on the road, this time headed toward Dallas, and I could tell Ginger was partially excited and partially nervous to be arriving back home in a few hours. She was jiggling her legs a lot, and every once in a while I’d catch her looking out the window, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“Is everything okay?” I asked her finally, when it became obvious that whatever was on her mind was really troubling her.
“Hmmmm?” she asked, dragging her eyes away from the passing scenery to focus on me. “Oh, yeah, I’ll be okay. I just get nervous whenever I get close to home. It’s not my momma, I love spending time with her, and I miss seeing her every day, it’s just that Bo still lives in the neighborhood. We grew up together, and since his daddy got sick, he’s been living back home and taking care of him. I’m just worried I’ll run in to him…”
“Do you guys not get along?” I asked gently, not wanting to pry but wanting to be there for her, if she wanted to talk about it.
“No, not anymore,” Ginger admitted, her expression turning sad. “We never really talked much in school,” she explained, leaning her seat back and settling in. “We ran in different crowds … I was a cheerleader, and he hung with the shop kids. But after graduation, I was walking Momma’s dog, and he was outside working on his car. When he saw me, he called me over. Made up some silly excuse about wanting to pet the dog or something,” Ginger’s face turned wistful as the memories overtook her. “He was so handsome, wearing an old tank top and ripped-up jeans with grease on them, I wondered why I’d never noticed him before. He asked me out and we started seeing each other pretty heavily.”
She turned and tucked her hair behind her ear, pausing momentarily. I wasn’t sure whether it was in reflection, or if her memories were starting to become painful, but I gave her a small smile of encouragement.
“Bo’s a dreamer. He always wanted to get out of Dallas, and got it in his head that if we moved to Vegas, all of his dreams would come true. I loved him, and thought we were going to get married, have kids, and spend the rest of our lives together. I didn’t care where we lived, as long as we were together, so when he asked me to go with him, I said yes. The first few days were great; we went to casinos, ate at buffets, and made love every day. But after a few weeks of job hunting, Bo decided that Vegas was a bust.” Ginger started picking the chipped nail polish off of her nails as she recounted the demise of her relationship. “We started fighting. He didn’t want to get a job in a parts store, or a garage … He said he could do that back in Dallas. No, he thought he’d strike it rich at the tables, and we’d magically have a better life. I couldn’t believe him, that he’d be so foolish, and I told him so. I told him we had to get jobs wherever we could, and work our way up. It would be hard, but we could do it, and at least we’d be together. We had one really big fight, we both said horrible things to each other, and when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“Yeah, I saw h
im a couple years later when I was home. He apologized for running out on me, and I said I forgave him, but I don’t think I ever really did. I didn’t tell him about working for Big Mike, I didn’t want to hear what he’d have to say about that, and I’ve tried to avoid him on every other trip home. My sister told me he’s seeing someone, and that it’s pretty serious. I’m really hoping I don’t run in to him … or worse, the two of them together.”
“You’re still in love with him,” I stated quietly, and her eyes flew to mine.
“I know it’s stupid,” Ginger said with a wavering smile. “He was a shit to me, and I haven’t even seen him for more than five minutes in years, but I’ve never stopped hoping, ya know?”
I nodded sadly, because I did know. I knew what it was like to love someone that completely, and not want to believe they were gone from your life forever. Of course, our circumstances were quite different, but still, love is love, and sometimes, even though your brain knows it’s not rational, your heart refuses to let go.
“Will you stay tomorrow night too?” Ginger asked, effectively changing the subject. “We’re going to get in too late to do anything tonight, and I’d love to hang out tomorrow, show you around, and take you out tomorrow night. You don’t have to hurry off, do you?”
I looked in Ginger’s sweet, honest face, and realized I wasn’t ready to leave her yet. I didn’t know when, or if, I’d ever see her again, and I couldn’t deny that delaying my trip to my parents sounded appealing.
“I’d like that,” I replied with a grin, and was rewarded with Ginger’s answering one.
“Yes!” she shouted with a laugh. “The men of Dallas aren’t going to know what hit ‘em. I’m going to take you to Neecey’s and we’re going to get worked over from head to toe. We’ll stop off at the mall and pick up some hot new clothes, and tomorrow night we’ll go to Jasper’s and get you laid.”
“Whoa,” I said, laughing at her exuberance, but stuck on her last statement. “I’m down with getting my hair and nails done, but who said anything about getting laid?”
Ginger turned her body in her seat so she was facing me. My eyes flitted nervously from the road to her beaming face.
“You said you’ve only been with two guys, right? The guy in high school, and Ricky.”
“Yes?” I replied, the word coming out more like a question than an answer.
“So, not only have you only been with two men in your life, you haven’t had sex in over a year,” Ginger presumed correctly.
“Yes.”
“Then, sug, it’s time to get you some highlights, dust off those cobwebs, and get you a man.” Ginger clapped her hands excitedly as a giggle escaped her lips, and I felt whiplash from her rapidly changing emotions.
“I don’t know…” I started to say, but she patted my leg and leaned in closer.
“Well, I know. You just leave it all to Ginger, I’ll have you feeling like a new woman in no time.”
I turned my attention back to the road, and left Ginger to her maniacal planning, as I tried to figure out a way to avoid staying in Dallas.
Chapter 9
We pulled into the old trailer park long after the sun had set. Ginger told me where to turn, and I looked around the neighborhood as I navigated through. Some of the trailers were old, but they were all well maintained. The yards were filled with assorted patio furniture and lounging chairs, and some even had decorations lighting a path through the park. Ginger told me to stop, and I pulled up in front of a green and white, singlewide trailer. It had an awning with twinkling lights strewn about it, and dark-green chairs set up in a circle around a cinderblock-lined fire pit.
“This is it,” Ginger said. Her voice sounded sunny, but the look on her face was pensive as she looked at her childhood home. “Let’s go see Momma.”
She opened the door and gestured for me to follow her.
“We’ll get the bags in a minute.”
I maneuvered around the car and followed her up onto the small wooden porch, which was obviously newly built. Ginger tried the door, then knocked when she found it locked.
A few seconds later, the door swung open, and we were swept up in a whirlwind.
The night was suddenly filled with loud chatter, a few squeals, and booming laughter. I was pulled into a pair of large arms, and hugged close to a very full bosom. Before I could make out what was happening, I was inside the trailer and released from what I presumed were Ginger’s mother’s breasts, and I looked around the room, trying to catch my bearings.
I was stunned speechless as the three women before me gushed over each other and I had a chance to look around the room.
The place was packed to the gills. So much so that I wondered how you could walk across the living room to the kitchen, without tearing through like a tornado. Every possible surface was covered with a lamp or knickknack of some sort. The furniture was opulent and garish, and the walls were covered … covered, with photos of Barbra Streisand. Some signed, some not.
My head swerved from left to right, and I knew I could look around the room a million times and always find an item that I hadn’t noticed before. I finally tuned in to the ladies in front of me and began to register what they were saying.
“You look so pretty,” Ginger was saying to a younger blonde girl as she stroked a hand lovingly over her hair.
“So do you,” the girl who I assumed was Ginger’s sister replied.
“Babs,” Ginger’s mother cut in, her eyes landing meaningfully on me. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”
“Oh,” Ginger exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth and turning to me. “I’m so sorry, Belle … Momma, this is Belle. Belle, this is my momma, and my sister, Jean.”
“Babs?” I asked, stuck on the fact that Ginger’s mother had been talking to her, not her sister, when she’d said the name.
Ginger’s cheeks colored sweetly as she shrugged, “Short for Barbra, my real name. I told you she was a fan.” I grinned as I looked down at my friend. She definitely did not look like a “Babs.” “People started calling me Ginger in junior high, because of my hair, and it stuck.”
I turned, still smiling, back to Ginger’s mother and said, “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Name’s Dorothy, but you can call me Dot,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “Everybody does.”
“Okay,” I agreed, then turned to Jean. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” the younger girl responded with a small smile.
“Well, let’s stop dawdling in the entryway. Grab your stuff and take Belle back to your room; you can both sleep there. Or she can have the couch if she’d rather.”
“Okay, Momma,” Ginger said, giving her mom a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the front door and motioning for me to follow her.
I grabbed the overnight bag I’d picked up before we’d started out this morning, which was now filled with my pajamas and toiletries, and helped Ginger get all of her stuff out of the car.
It made me sad to think that when I left here, I’d be continuing my journey on my own.
I managed to make it through the living room without knocking anything over, but it wasn’t easy. When I followed Ginger into her room, I was surprised to see that it didn’t hold any remnants from Ginger’s childhood; at least, I didn’t think it did.
“Do you have a Streisand obsession too, or have all of your things been cleared out?” I asked as I looked around at the photographs lining every available surface.
“No,” Ginger replied with a laugh. “Once it was clear that I’d moved on, Momma had me take what I wanted, and gave the rest to Goodwill. Every time I come home, there’s new memorabilia in here. It’s now more of a guest room, and an extension of the Ode to Barbra.”
My hands were beginning to shake, so I hugged myself tightly as I looked around the room. I’d left the liquor I’d brought along in the trunk of my car, and I was pretty sure that I was out of the mini travel-size bottles
I’d had in my purse. I picked it up and rummaged through it anyway, just in case I’d missed one.
“Hey,” Ginger called softly, causing me to look up to see a knowing look on her face. “You wanna have a drink before bed? I’m sure Momma has something to warm our bellies.”
“Sure,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, instead of relieved at her words.
She grabbed my hand and led me out to the kitchen. My hip bumped an end table and causing the ceramic elves on top to shake perilously, but luckily, they remained intact.
I let out a long breath and tilted my head to see Ginger smiling at me.
“It’s like a maze,” I said under my breath, causing her to smile to broaden.
“I know where the super glue is,” she whispered with a wink, then continued on to the table and gestured for me to sit.
Ginger opened a cupboard and looked at me over her shoulder.
“Southern Comfort, Jack Daniels, or some sort of cheap tequila?”
“Jack,” I responded, my mouth starting to salivate like Pavlov’s Dog, at the knowledge that the brown liquid would soon be passing my lips.
She set the bottle and two shot glasses in front of me, then took the seat across from me and poured two shots.
We picked them up and raised them to each other.
“Welcome to Dallas,” Ginger said with a jaunty grin, then we both brought the shot glasses back down to tap them on the table, and knocked them back.
My eyes watered as the alcohol burned down my throat and made good on Ginger’s promise of warming my belly. I closed my eyes and let my body relax, then opened then with a brisk nod when Ginger asked, “Another?”
Chapter 10
Neecey was a miracle worker.
My mousy, too long, brown hair was transformed into a healthy head of shiny, chestnut locks, in just a little over an hour. She’d cut it into long layers and styled it in loose curls that cascaded down my back.