Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(7)

“I really think we could have had a good friendship if I had been more open,” Ami continued, trying to find middle ground. “I'm a hard person to get to know because I am so shy, but I wish I tried harder. Anyway, what I really want to say is,” she wiped her damp face, “I hope you keep my number and email address and give me a call now and again.”

I stood staring with an open mouth. “Sorry Ami. I...I honestly had no idea. I thought you just needed a roomie and were putting up with me because of my off-kilter lifestyle. You know, for entertainment purposes for you and your mom.”

She smiled through her tears. “Well, you sure are entertaining. It wouldn’t be so fun to keep track of you if you didn’t feel abashed for all the things gone wrong. I mean, I can see in your face when you regret whatever it was that you did. Morbid curiosity drove me some of the time, I must admit.”

Flustered and crying, Ami pulled something out of her pocket. “I wanted to give you something to remember me by.”

She handed me a box with a little red bow. I opened it in confusion, then froze.

“Ami! You can’t possibly-- No way can I-- I can’t accept this!”

“Yes, you can.”

“No way. No, I can’t.”

“Yup, you can.” She turned me around, swept my hair away, and fastened the most exquisite ruby and diamond necklace around my neck that I’d ever seen. Well, seen on me at any rate. I’d complimented her on it dozens of times, and even borrowed it once for a date with an a-hole that didn’t deserve a prostitute, but I'd never owned something as nice as this.

“Ami, this is too much. I mean, men don’t give me this good of presents!”

“If you ever dated anyone worthy of you they might.”

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I fanned my face, then gave her a tight hug, trying to keep my eyes from constantly straying to the mirror and the fabulous bling around my neck.

“Well,” Ami said, stepping away and wiping her face again, “you need to get going.”

I mutely nodded, not trusting my voice, and looked around. This was it. I was leaving my home of the last five years, my city, my new friend, and all my old friends. It was time to change my life around, starting with getting into the car.

Gulp.

My ass fell asleep numerous times. My butt-sweat bled into the ripped canvas of the driver’s seat. My vocal cords were hoarse from singing at the top of my lungs for hours straight. It was a long trip, made longer with the lack of changing landscape in the desert. At one point I literally pointed out a rock: "Oh, look, a rock! Look how big the rock is! There it goes, a gray rock amongst all this brown."

Later on I saw another cool sight. "Oh, look, a cactus! Wow, brownish green, like my eyes. Cool."

New Mexico...now there’s a reason to speed.

Three dog years later, I nearly cried when I saw Tartin Creek, 1Mile. I put down my hastily made noose and sped to the turn-off. I was almost there!

A couple turns and a million street signs later, I left the traveler’s world and entered…

“Holy shit—“

Tartin Creek.

Houses loomed and sprawled, pushed back from the carefully tended street devoid of even one pothole. I didn’t see one piece of trash. Whereas the trip was a tableau of brown, this town was one of green. Yards of grass covered front yards, decorated with plants, flowers and trees. More than one yard had a tire swing gently swaying in the afternoon breeze. Any cars in sight were luxury models. Any people well dressed. Flem was right, this place had money.

What the hell am I doing here?

After a double check to my directions, I finally pulled up in front of one of the massive residences that made up the norm of this town. The grounds were expansive and green, reaching to both my left and right as I parked at the curb in front of the walkway. The landscaping was immaculate, with trimmed bushes, gently swaying trees, and flowers in beds of soft dirt completely devoid of weeds. The house stood tall, intimidating in size even though it was so far removed from the quiet street it should've been smaller. The décor of soft tan and white window lattices gave the structure a refined look. The money here wasn't splashed around and thrown in your face, like so many celebrity residences I’d seen, it was subtle. Sophisticated. Like people who’d been rich all their lives. Here, money was a default setting. It would never run out. At least in their lifetime.

It took me about fifteen minutes to get out of the car. I just sat there, staring. I had grease stains on my shirt. Neither my hair nor teeth hadn’t been brushed in two days. My whole outfit probably cost under $100.

In this community, one of these things did not belong. Spoiler alert…it was me!

I pushed open the door slowly and climbed out. Dusting potato chip crumbs from my pants, I trudged up the walkway with a slightly ducked head. A neighbor looking out the window was probably muttering, “There goes the neighborhood.”

Rental agreement clutched in my hand like a shield, I gingerly rang the faintly lit, plastic doorbell.

“Why, hello there young lady.”

I spun around, losing the spit in my mouth down my chin, nearly wondering if someone was going to laugh at me and yell, “Gotcha!”

An old lady was standing just off of the stoop wearing a kind smile. Her white hair was pulled back from her smooth, wrinkle-less face and hidden beneath a yellow sun hat with a large brim. Though slightly hunched with old age, she still showed traces of her once regal bearing.