Fresh Ice (13 page)

“Thanks for calling, Sarah.”

“Goodnight.” Sarah disconnected the call and looked out at the drab motel room.

“I met someone, Miri,” she said to the empty room. “He’s really nice.
And handsome, too.”

Sarah climbed into bed and thought about riverfront condominiums, the moo
n, and the man with the gray eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Home Sweet Home

Dwight flung open the screen door and the one rusty hinge that had been holding it in place gave way and the door clattered to the ground. He shoved it aside and burst through the front door and into the living room. A thick haze of cigarette smoke hunk in the air and the TV blared at a deafening decibel.

The stench and general disarray of the house went unnoticed. Dwight had grown accustomed to the smell and the filth over the years and it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t care less about the empty beer cans and week old pizza boxes littering the floor. Coming home from south of the border to find his property missing, now
that
bothered him.

He marched over to the recliner where Troy sat with his eyes glued to the TV.

“
Where is she
?” Dwight grabbed a fistful of Troy’s hair and yanked as hard as he could.

“
Owwww! What the fuck?!” Troy screamed. He bolted upright in the recliner and rubbed his head. The orange powder from the cheese curls he’d been eating rubbed from his fingers to his greasy hair.

Dwight scowled and repeated the question through yellowed teeth.
“
Where. Is. Sarah.
”

Troy saw the lethal look in his Pop’s eyes and knew the jig was up. He’d stalled about Sarah on the phone for the past week and now it was time to face the firing squad.
His eyes darted into the kitchen and down the hall, hoping she might materialize and save him a world of trouble. When Troy saw that it was empty, he looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know, Pop. She’s probably in the bathroom or sumpthin’.”

“Go find her.
Now!
”

Troy got up and stumbled down the hall past his father. He scratched at the spot Dwight had damn near pulled a clump of his hair out. A bald spot was the last thing he needed. Despite only being in his thirties, his hair was already beginning to thin enough as it was.

Troy looked around the bedroom and the bathroom. Nope, no Sarah. No nobody. No nothin’.

Dwight came down the hall behind him and
he flinched. “I guess she’s not here,” Troy said sounding defeated.

Dwight looked around the bedroom. At first glance, the bedroom looked like it always did.
Dirty, tangled sheets on the bed. His soiled clothes scattered across the floor. Empty beer bottles on the nightstand. Ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts.

There was no sign of Sarah or her belongings anywhere. But, then again, there never really
had been. She was as quiet as a mouse and always made herself as scarce as possible. She blended in like a goddamn wallflower. Just the way he liked it.

“I told you not to let her out of your sight,” Dwight growled. He chugged half the beer in the bottle he was holding. “Damn it! Can’t you do the simplest thing?”

“Sorry, Pop,” Troy mumbled.

Dwight wanted to smash the bottle over Troy’s thick head but didn’t because there was still precious alcohol left inside. Instead, he picked up the nearest empty beer bottle and hurled it into the bedroom. The glass shattered against the wall and fell to the floor.

“
Go see if she’s outside
,” Dwight hissed.

Troy staggered down the hall and out the front door.

“That stupid little bitch!” Dwight snarled to himself. He glared into the empty bedroom and cursed. “That whore had better just be hiding.”

Rage boiled up and coursed through Dwight’s veins. Sure, Troy had an empty space between his ears the size of Texas, but he should have been able to keep an eye on Sarah. How hard was it to not let a ninety pound girl out of your sight? Apparently, it was much too difficult for Sleeping Ugly.

Dwight clenched his fists until his dirty, jagged fingernails bit into his palm. He wished Sarah was there for him to take his anger out on. Putting his fist through the wall just didn’t elicit the same satisfaction as smackin’ her around did. The wall didn’t kick or scream or fight back. The wall didn’t cry with big fat tears streaming down its face. The wall didn’t look at him with those big blue eyes and beg him to stop.

He stomped over to the dresser and yanked open the drawers. The only thing inside were a couple of his ratty old t-shirts and a few mismatched pairs of socks. He flung the clothes aside and found nothing but bare wood underneath.  “Shit,” he muttered. He pulled the last drawer out and threw it across the room. The wood cracked and splintered and landed on the mattress with a thump and a bounce.

A quick look in the bathroom and her stuff was gone from in there, too. He threw open the medicine cabinet. No feminine products or frilly deodorant. She’d even taken the spare bar of soap from under the sink. Damn her!

He smashed his fist into the mirror above the sink and the glass shattered into shards. Blood dripped from his hand but he didn’t give a crap.

Troy came back inside with a worried look on his fat face. “She’s not outside, Pop,” he announced.

Dwight pushed past his son and into the living room.  He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the coffee table and raised it to his lips.

Troy put his hand up in warning. “I think there’s sumpthin’ wrong with that whis—“

Dwight ignored his son and gulped down the smooth liquor. It was exactly what he needed to help him figure out what to do with the shit storm he’d come home to.

Before Dwight knew what hit him, he stumbled over to the couch and fell head first into a black haze.

* * *

That weekend, Sarah took the city bus across town and explored her new home. The great thing about Red Valley was that it was populated enough to get lost in the crowd. And she did just that. Not in a physical or directional sense but rather she lost herself in the quaint boutiques and antique shops downtown.

Morning dissolved into afternoon as Sarah
immersed herself in the overstuffed rows of used books at The Book Nook. There were so many books in the little store, they teetered in stacks on the floor, waiting to be scooped up and taken to their new homes. Finding the bargain bin full of old paperbacks was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The
real jackpot was finding a Felicity Johns novel that Sarah had never read before. Felicity was Sarah’s favorite author. Her heroines were usually fearless and always inspiring.

Ever since she was a little girl, Sarah escaped her life by immersing herself in novels. Sometimes she didn’t get to finish them because Dwight took his lighter to the book just to be a
jerk. But for those few hours she did get to read in secret, Sarah could be someone else,
somewhere
else in a different world.

Priced at four for a dollar, Sarah bought a dollar’s worth
of bargain books. The books had beat up covers, the pages folded at the corners and creases lined their spines. They were absolutely beautiful.

She could
easily justify buying books when she should be using the money for food. After all, reading was food for her soul.

S
arah thought about how many people before her had read those same worn pages. Had they been inspired by the words on the pages? Were their lives enriched by the story? Did they relate to the characters?

She hoped so. She couldn’t imagine anyone not falling in love with the world Felicity created.

After The Book Nook, Sarah discovered the August County Library, a beautiful old brick building next to the courthouse. She even applied for a library card. It might have seemed insignificant for most people but to Sarah it was a monumental moment. She wasn’t able to have a library card in L.A. because Dwight got a kick out of destroying her things and she would have been up to her eyeballs in library fines.

Later,
after a quick bite to eat from the value menu at Tico’s Tacos, Sarah picked up some necessities at the Everything Under 99 Cent Store. Then she stopped at a nearby thrift store and found a couple of outfits for work. She bought a pale blue sundress that matched her eyes and a light pink blouse and black slacks. The hem of the sundress fell at her ankles and she could wear a long sleeve over the top until her bruises disappeared. The fabric was pretty and feminine and Sarah couldn’t wait to wear it to work. She also bought a pair of jeans with cute embroidery on the back pockets.

On the way back to the motel
, when the bus drove by the dynamic NorCal Center, Sarah all but pressed her nose up against the window to get a closer look. Out front, a humongous colorful digital billboard advertised upcoming games, events and concerts. Traffic around the arena was heavy and slow moving which gave her a chance to take in the impressive home of the Red Valley Razors.

A shining stainless steel façade supported a
glittering glass entry that soared at least ten stories above the ground. Stunning glass pyramids formed large atriums over the venue’s entrance.

If the outside was this magnificent,
Sarah couldn’t imagine what the inside must look like. She had tried to watch a game on TV to get a glimpse at the inside but reception at the motel wasn’t the greatest. The few channels that did come in had a steady blanket of snow over them.

So, this was where Nathan played hockey.
It must be so thrilling for him to play such an exciting sport inside such a beautiful place. She looked up at the structure in awe and wondered what it must be like for him inside those walls. World famous people, athletes and musicians performed inside the Center all the time. Sarah couldn’t imagine performing in front of that many people. A salon full of women was nerve-wracking enough!

Sarah sighed and added yet another item to her bucket list.

That night, Sarah cracked open one of the books she bought and lost herself in the
wonderful world of romantic fiction.

* * *

After two days of unconsciousness, Dwight woke up to the sound of revving truck engines and screaming tires. Man, he had one hell of a headache. Damn it. It felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck followed by a steam engine. Crust glued his eyes shut and his head pounded like a mother.

He blinked and tried real hard to remember what happened to put him in such a state of misery. His brain was too muddled to recall if he’d been on a bender or not. The last thing he remembered was the hot Mexican sun and a woman with brown skin who
se name he couldn’t pronounce.

Ever so carefully
, Dwight lifted his head and looked across the living room. Troy was hunkered down into the recliner, one arm buried into a bag of chips, the other holding the remote control in a death grip.

Dwight swung his legs down to the floor and rubbed his aching temples. Jesus, this was one nasty bitch of a hangover. What the hell had he done to deserve his head in a vice? He didn’t get many hangovers because he’d learned at an early age that they could easily be prevented as long as he stayed just a
little
bit drunk
all
of the time.

He reached for the beer on the coffee table only to find it was empty. He picked up the one next to it and finished off the brew. It was flat and warm but at least it would take the edge off.

A half empty whiskey bottle lay at his feet. Man, was he thirsty. And he had to take a piss so bad his back teeth were floating.

Dwight looked over at his son for some clue as to why he had a pounding headache.
Troy munched on a mouthful of chips, his eyes glued to the monster truck races on the TV. Crumbs stuck to his size quadruple XL shirt. To call Troy husky was a gross understatement. He tipped the scales at close to five hundred pounds and showed no signs of cutting out carbs or counting calories anytime soon.

As if he knew he was being watched, Troy pried his eyes from the screen and looked over at his father.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Dwight barked.

Troy shrugged, turned his attention back to the TV and shoved his hand back into the bag of chips.

Dwight stood up and stretched, careful not to further agitate the marching band inside his skull. “What day is it?” he asked.

“You’ve been out for a
coupla days,” Troy answered without taking his eyes off the screen. “I thought you were dead.”

Dwight grumbled under his breath and shuffled into the kitchen. He pulled the last beer from the fridge and took a swig. It was cold this time and burned his throat a little going down but he drank from it like it was the fountain of life. “Sarah! We need more beer!”
he yelled.

There was no answer and he slammed the fridge door shut.

Suddenly, the events of the last few days came back to him and he remembered everything. Sarah’s disappearing act, Troy’s feigned surprise... And now he was out of beer.