Once Upon a Road Trip (12 page)

~Ang

Chapter 8

“Hello?” Zak answered on the third ring, tiredness apparent in his voice.

Angie launched straight to the point. “Hey, it’s me. I think I’m on your street, but I can’t find your house.”

“Oh, that’s…weird,” he said. “I’ll come out and walk the street to see if I can find you. I just got home, so I’m still in my school uniform—white shirt. Should be hard to miss me.”

“Thanks, that would help a lot.” Angie sighed, relieved at the genial sincerity in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out. See you in a bit.”

She hung up the payphone and sprinted back to the side street where she’d left her car. Here in the urban residential heart of Ottawa, the houses were old and tucked close together, shrouded in the greenery and shadows of lofty trees. Angie perched on the trunk of her car and observed the entire length of the dead-end street. She waited a minute; then two.

Nothing happened.

Something wasn’t right, and she suspected that it was her fault and not Zak’s. She grabbed up the map again and traced her finger along the short road, verifying the cross street and then expanding her search. Several blocks over, she realized her mistake. There was a half-mile gap between the road where she sat and the main street with the same name.

“Fan-freaking-tastic.”

She pulled her car around and crossed several busy city blocks before turning onto the primary street. Sure enough, she spotted a lone figure walking away from her up the sidewalk. This individual was definitely male, judging by the build and gait, wearing an untucked white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. She caught up to the figure and pulled alongside him, waiting to be noticed.

The young man halted, slouching low to see through her passenger side window. Then came the slow smile and a wave of recognition. Angie rolled down the window.

“Hop in! Sorry about that—I was on the wrong part of the street. There’s another section of it a few blocks down from here.” She suspended any further explanation as Zak immediately obliged her by getting into the car, folding his legs up to make the fit.

He turned to her with an easy half smile, extending his hand across himself in greeting. “Didn’t know that, or I would have warned you. I was about to get worried.”

Angie accepted the offered handshake as a welcome distraction.

She’d once seen a picture Zak had posted of himself standing with a gaggle of his high school friends, but it hadn’t done him justice. Broad shouldered and lean in build, he had the sort of solid jaw-line that lined up in perfect balance with the rest of him. His face was bronzed, with high cheekbones and deep, dark brown eyes that suited the rest of his well defined features — all hinting strongly at a Native American heritage. His thick, glossy black hair was short on the sides and longer toward a central strip, which he kept spiked into a slight backward bent that reminded her of a cockatoo’s crest.

The term “attractive” didn’t begin to cover it. She couldn’t recall ever seeing someone so remarkably good-looking in person. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, for a lack of a better conversation starter. “Mind pointing out your house?” She returned both hands to the steering wheel, fixing her gaze straight ahead.

“Just keep going, it’s at the end on the left,” Zak said, motioning down the street. “You can park in the drive for now. My car has a street sticker, and I don’t want to risk you being towed.”

Angie nodded once. “Okay, whatever you think.”  She found herself concentrating inordinately hard on coming to the end of the long street and turning onto the driveway. She parked alongside a two-story dwelling that would have reminded her of a quaint old farmhouse, if not for its neighbor sitting just a few strides away. She couldn’t guess at its age, though the wood-sided house bore a design that had to put it beyond sixty years. A fresh coat of a gray-blue paint was accented by bright white trim around the open-air front porch.

Once parked, she got out and stretched. In need of a distraction to keep from gawking at Zak, she strolled back to examine the car parked along the curb. The ancient, two-door Dodge Dart had once been tan in color, but was now half covered in rust and patches that had been painted a matte gray. “Is this your baby?” she asked, giving the vehicle a casual once-over.

“Baby? More like…disagreeable old man.” Zak smirked, moving to stand beside her.

Acutely aware of his proximity, she looked aside and then up.

She’d known he was tall, but only then did she grasp just how tall. She stood no higher than his shoulder, which she guessed would put him at well over six-and-a-half feet. She wasn’t accustomed to being dwarfed. “Does he have a name?” Angie pressed on with her attempted conversation, perplexed with how off-balance she felt.

“I call him Chip…for obvious reasons.” Zak stepped up to the car and scraped at a loose piece of roof paint in demonstration.

“Cute.” Angie laughed, motioning back at her car in a sweeping gesture. “I guess I didn’t introduce you to Gypsy.”

“Ah, also fitting,” Zak said, looking off toward the Geo with that same light smirk and then back to Angie. His hands sought out his pockets and he inclined his head toward the front porch. “Come on in. I guess you’re used to this at your latitude, but it’s a bit warm out for me.”

“Oh, sure. As long as your mom isn’t going to mind.” She followed after him, noting he didn’t respond to her concern. She hoped that didn’t mean he was getting them both into trouble by having her in the house. Being she hadn’t seen an “adult” yet, she slipped a hand into her pocket and felt for the small can of travel mace.

He did just put me through the wringer with his unreliability
, she reminded herself. She didn’t care how handsome the guy was, there was no reason for her to completely trust him.

The floorboards creaked as they entered. A small foyer funneled ahead into a hallway that ran between a staircase following the right wall and opened into a modest den to the left. The decor was minimal, with no particular theme that Angie could discern. Pinstriped blue and white wallpaper curled slightly where the seams met. The house was clean, but undeniably old.

“Mom bought this place two summers ago, so we’d finally have a house and she’d be close enough to walk to work,” Zak said. “It needs some fixing up.” He paused along the staircase, threading his arm through the slats of the wooden railing to pet the large, black cat sitting motionless on the fifth step.

Angie approached the staircase, taking a few slow steps up to sit beside the feline. The yellow-eyed creature turned its head to follow her movements, but didn’t bother to move anything else. Satisfied the cat wasn’t skittish, she stroked a hand along its back. “Hello there.”

“That’s Jinx,” Zak said, with a fond note. “He mostly stays inside, but don’t worry about it if he gets out, eh?”

Angie gave the cat one last scratch between the ears before standing up and following Zak on through the hallway, which opened into the back end of the house. There was a small dining area with a round breakfast table taking up a nook to the right, and a door set into the back side of the staircase she guessed to be either a closet or a cellar. Zak veered left into the kitchen. The small, square room had little counter space and the appliances seemed squeezed in wherever they happened to fit. Zak’s presence in the room only made the space appear more cramped.

She stood by and watched as he stooped to grab a liter container out of the fridge, twisted off the top, and began drinking straight from the carton. He’d easily downed half of the contents before lowering it to take a breath. “Oh, sorry. You want something to drink? We’ve got…water, juice, and eggnog.” He held up the carton in offering.

“I’m good with water.” Angie peered at the container in his hand in mild bewilderment. Unable to help herself she asked, “Why are you drinking eggnog in the middle of June? And how is it still good?”

Zak closed the fridge and pulled open the freezer. He gestured to the rest of its contents, more than half comprised of tightly packed eggnog cartons. “The stuff freezes just fine. I stock up after Christmas every year. We’ve got an extra freezer in the basement just for this.” He took another long swig as he went about finding a glass and dropping ice cubes into it. “I’m kind of addicted to the stuff, ever since I worked as a bag boy for a grocery store over the holidays when I was like…fourteen.”

Angie accepted the glass of water he brought to her, looking away to conceal her amusement. “I guess there are worse things to be hooked on.”

“No kidding.” Zak leaned a shoulder against the entryway of the kitchen. “Some of the people I graduated with are already certifiable alcoholics. I hit legal drinking age this spring and figured out I don’t have a taste for the stuff.”

“Oh that’s right, it’s nineteen here,” Angie recalled, surprised to find herself settled by the ease of their interaction. She had expected to be at least somewhat annoyed with him. Yet, so far he hadn’t said or done anything to prompt another comfort-check on her can of mace.

“Right, and our grade levels go up to thirteen before college.” The laid-back quality of his voice mirrored his unhurried mannerisms. “On that point, I think I like the American version better. I felt ready for college two years ago.”

An abrupt combination of sound and movement called their attention down the hall to the front door, where a tall woman had shouldered her way inside carrying multiple grocery bags. “Zaky? Well, where is she?” the woman called.

“That’d be mom,” Zak said, polishing off the remainder of his eggnog and giving the empty container a long toss across the kitchen into the garbage. “Let’s get this over with.” He sighed, rounding the corner and heading back down the hall.

Anxiety gripped Angie’s stomach. Was she even supposed to be in the house? She deposited the glass of water on the table before following Zak, somewhat glad his towering form hid her from view. The effect was short-lived, as he reached the foyer and stepped to one side while taking the bags from his mother.

The woman stood a bit taller than Angie, with a solid but trim build. Her golden-brown hair was wavy, pulled back in a loose pony tail that fell past her shoulders. Her face was one that had seen regular outdoor exposure, but a notably lighter complexion compared to her son’s. Vivid blue eyes stood out from otherwise even, unremarkable features.

“Mom, this is Angeli. Angeli—Mom.” Zak nodded between the two women as he gave the introduction and then turned, heading back toward the kitchen with the groceries.

Feeling the irrational sting of abandonment, Angie stayed where she was and offered out her hand along with a smile she hoped would be taken as harmless. She hadn’t read any anger from the woman’s tone or posture, at least. “Hi there.” Her voice came out small .

Please like me.

“Oh, good! You’re not a forty-year-old escaped convict!” the woman said, with no small degree of jubilance. Her eyes brightened, and the light creases around her mouth and eyes became defined with sincere expression. Smiling brought out a beauty that Angie supposed must have been breathtaking in her youth.

Instead of shaking her hand, the woman embraced her in a quick articulation of relief. “I’m Cathy, by the way. I could swear I taught that boy better manners.” She released Angie to have another inspecting look at her. 

“Good to meet you, too.” Angie laughed. “I’m so sorry for the confusion over my visit. I never meant to cause any problems.”

“Well, that’s not your fault. Zak really cooked it this time,” Cathy said, in blatant agitation. “But now that you’re here, I don’t think there’s any need for you to get a hotel. The couch folds out into a bed.” She gestured to the sofa as she walked past the living area and headed for the kitchen.

Angie trailed after the woman, on the verge of shock over her change of heart. “That’s…very kind of you. I can always stay in my car if you’d prefer. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“No, no. I won’t have you sleeping outside.” Cathy said over her shoulder before leaning into the kitchen. “Zak, how does seafood sound? I thought we’d all down to that little place along the canal. We could show your friend around a little afterwards, if there’s still daylight.”

“Uh, sure.” Zak’s low voice answered from somewhere in the kitchen, carrying a trace of surprise. “Have you heard anything from Evie?”

Cathy leaned back and nodded. “I just talked to her before I left work. She’s still having contractions, but they aren’t any closer together than they have been all week. She’ll call if there’s any change.”

“Alright,” Zak said. He reappeared in the hallway and moved past Angie, flashing a relieved smile. “I’m starved. Just let me grab my keys.”

The day had cooled by the time they arrived at the restaurant. Cathy requested a table out on the broad patio deck, with a view overlooking the Rideau Canal. They found a place near the lacquered wood railing and settled in.

“Is that any good?” Angie laid the menu down, looking to Zak at her right as she set her finger beneath the “Shark Burger.” The item had stood out to her as something she’d never tried, but always been curious about.

Zak made a face. “I’m not really a fan of shark meat. Kinda dry and not a lot of flavor. But, I mean, they might do it well here.”

“Oh, he’s just a picky eater.” Cathy piped up from across the table. “Give it a try if you’ve never had it. You may never get a better opportunity.”

Angie nodded. Noting that it was one of the less expensive things on the menu, she settled on it — in case her hosts insisted on paying for her food.

Once they’d all ordered, Zak kept to himself while his mother began a subtle cross-examination of Angie. Cathy asked about her siblings, her parents professions, her schooling and extra-curricular activities. Angie answered readily, feeling she owed her hostess that much. Their food had arrived by the time she got around to the harder questions.

“Well if you’re already in college, what is it you’re going for?” 

Angie paused, peeking under the bun in front of her at the slice of off-white meat while racking her brain for some way of not sounding fickle. “I’m just getting an associate degree in liberal arts for right now. I’ll probably take a break after that. I know people change their major a few times on average, and I didn’t want to risk wasting money until I was sure what area I want to go into.” She took a testing bite of the burger, tasting mayo along with a fishy flavor, combined with a chewy texture she’d never encountered before.