Wildcat and the Rock Star (The Lone Pine Lodge Book 3) Page 2

  “It’s not that I don’t want to sell you a car,” said Sammy. “But why don’t you just, oh, I don’t know—FLY?”

  “Too risky to go to the airport with Pete’s goons lurking around,” said Alf. “That and he doesn’t want to tip off Barbara. If you recall, she’s not too happy with Ronnie. She’s likely to rip his damn fool head off.”

  “Can’t say I’d blame her,” said Ron.

  “So you want to drive a brand new Lotus Evora 410 up the Alaska Highway,” said Sammy. “I mean, it’s a great car, but shouldn’t you get a four-by-four?”

  “At this time of night?” said Ron. “No.”

  “Ronnie here’s in love, said Alf. “And you should know better than to stand between a bear and his mate.”

  “Yeah,” said Sammy. “Yeah, I do. What about you, Alf? Anybody ever catch you?”

  “You know what I am,” said Alf. “Finding a mate’s a bit tricky for me.”

  “Got a point there, Alf,” said Sammy. “Okay, gentlemen, let me draw up the papers.” Sammy tilted his computer screen toward Ron. “Now, which performance package do you want?”

  “Whatever,” said Ron.

  Sammy wrinkled his brow. “Don’t you want me to go over them with you?”

  “Not particularly,” said Ron. “We’re kind of in a hurry.”

  “Now for the color…” said Sammy.

  “Don’t care,” said Ron.

  “I could see a big bear like you in a nice…”

  “Don’t care,” said Ron.

  “Red?”

  “Don’t care,” said Ron.

  “Blue?”

  “Don’t care,” said Ron.

  “Well you’ve got to pick something,” said Sammy.

  “Tell you what. I’ll do you a favor. Is there a car that’s been sitting on the lot for way too long in a color no one else wants?” asked Ron.

  “There’s a fully-loaded lime-green metallic one,” said Sammy.

  “I’ll take it,” said Ron. “Whatever the price, I’ll take it. Just get us out on the road as fast as you can.”

  Ron signed the papers and arranged a transfer of funds to Shapiro Lotus to buy the Evora 410. By 3:30 AM, Ron and Alf were on the road to Alaska.

  Barbara awoke with a start. She was sweating. She rolled over and looked at the clock.

  “3:30 AM,” said Barbara. “Ugh…”

  She pulled back the covers, put her feet on the cold floor, and shuffled off to the bathroom. When she was washing her hands she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her sleepy face stared back at her. Her blonde hair flailed around her shoulders. Is this the “just got laid” look men found so attractive? God! Ron was always going on and on about that.

  Barbara stared into her own deep green eyes. She was dreaming when she woke up. But what was it about? It had been so vivid…

  Ron.

  Barbara’s heart began to pound. The dream was about Ron. She was very good at pushing thoughts of her mate out of her head during the day, but at night, her subconscious always betrayed her. A few fleeting images from her dream came back to her.

  She was dancing with Ron. He was one of the few men she had ever danced with who was taller than she was. Even after more than ten years, she could still remember the electricity of his touch and his rich, spicy scent.

  Barbara gave herself a good shake, and put the dream out of her head. She headed back to bed and settled herself back in. Barbara tried reading, but she just couldn’t focus on the words. She set the book down and turned out the light.

  Tears formed. She broke into waves of sobs. Why did this always happen when she dreamed of Ron?

  Suddenly, Barbara felt an icy hand on her shoulder. She shrieked. A glowing apparition stood at her bedside.

  “Emilia!” said Barbara. “Really? Don’t you ever knock?”

  The ghost looked hurt, pulled her hand away from Barbara’s shoulder and began to fade.

  “I’m sorry, Emilia,” said Barbara. “Please don’t go. You just startled me.”

  Emilia’s spirit brightened again. She was wearing an old fashioned white wedding dress, as she always did, and held a bouquet of white roses in her hand. Emilia smiled at Barbara. Emilia was well known to anyone who lived or worked at the Lone Pine. But full-body apparitions of Emilia were extremely rare.

  “What can I do for you, Emilia?” asked Barbara.

  Emilia put one finger to her lips, then pointed to Barbara.

  “You need to tell me something?” asked Barbara.

  Emilia nodded and leaned down close to Barbara. Barbara could feel a frosty breath near her ear.

  “It won’t be much longer,” whispered Emilia. Barbara’s eyes widened. She had had many interactions with Emilia over the years, but this was the first time Barbara had heard her speak. Emilia usually left notes in her spidery handwriting, or simply gestured. From what Barbara knew about ghosts, Emilia’s spoken message had to have taken a lot of effort. Emilia began to fade—she was visibly tired.

  “Wait!” said Barbara. “What do you mean?”

  Emilia smiled knowingly and vanished.

  The Lotus roared down the I-5 through Mount Vernon, Washington. Ron was driving like a maniac.

  “You know, Ron,” said Alf. “If you get pulled over, this little escapade is over. No wedding. No Wildcat. So slow the fuck down, will you?”

  “GPS says we’ve got 48 hours of driving ahead of us,” said Ron. He took a sip of coffee, driving with one hand. “A hundred and twenty-five grand, and you’d think there’d at least be a cup holder.”

  “This ain’t exactly a family minivan,” said Alf.

  The car was comfortable, and most people would be just fine with it. But for two men of their size, it was cramped. Ron was a big man, but Alf was over seven feet tall. The trunk and back seat were stuffed with their suitcases and whatever gear they felt they could not leave behind in Seattle. Ron brought Suzy. Alf brought his favorite 1956 Les Paul guitar and a little Pignose portable practice amplifier.

  “Remind me of why you couldn’t have ditched the tour when we were in Vancouver,” said Alf. “You’re damn lucky I have my passport with me.”

  “Gotta be honest with you,” said Ron. “It’s been tough being without Barbara all these years. I’ve been planning to snatch that damn Polaroid for a long time. This was the first chance I had in ten years to get it back.”

  “Even though I haven’t found my mate, I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you to be away from Barbara all these years,” said Alf. “I really don’t know how you do it.”

  “Simple,” said Ron. “I stay busy. I practice the guitar and write songs. It eases the pain better than any drug, bottle or groupie.”

  “Groupie?” said Alf, laughing. “I’ve known you for 15 years and I’ve never, ever seen you with a groupie.”

  “Once you’ve found your mate,” said Ron. “That’s all there is. You don’t want anyone else. Barbara’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “You’re sure she’ll take you back?” asked Alf.

  “I don’t know,” Ron sighed. “I really don’t know. But one way or the other, she has to know the truth about why I’ve been gone all these years.”

  Ron pulled the Lotus into the parking lot of a diner in Everson, Washington just shortly before sun-up. The sign read “Paula’s Diner.” Everson was one of the last stops before the Canadian border, and a good place to gas up the Lotus and to eat.

  “How’s this look for breakfast?” asked Ron.

  “I see lots of pickup trucks, semi’s, and a few cops,” said Alf. “That’s always a good sign.”

  They were just finishing up their breakfast of bacon, sausage, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, grits, muffins, two huge chili cheese omelettes, and about a gallon of coffee. For a pair of big men—and shifters at that—this was a pretty average size meal.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Alf, getting up off the barstool at the truck stop counter.

 
Ron pulled out his phone and hesitated. He really didn’t want to know what was on there. It was only a matter of time before TMZ picked up the story of Ron’s disappearance. Ron checked the headlines one last time before heading over the Canadian border.

  Nothing yet.

  Ron was relieved. He was sure Pete was still asleep, and hoped that his Manager hadn’t realized the Polaroid was gone. Ron checked his phone again. The battery was pretty low. He had a charger in the car. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was better off without it. He needed to focus on getting to the Lone Pine for the wedding and patching things up with Barbara.

  Alf came back. He was carrying two cardboard boxes, one on top of the other.

  “What the fuck is this?” said Ron.

  “Moonpies,” said Alf, grinning. “You can’t have a roadtrip without moonpies.”

  “And the other one?” asked Ron.

  Alf set down the moonpies on the counter and opened up the oddly shaped second box.

  “Ta da!” said Alf. He was holding a plastic pink ukulele. It had a princess, a castle and a unicorn on the front.

  “Seriously?” said Ron.

  “Seriously!” said Alf. “I figured we can make our own music—you know—just like the old days. Besides, a guitar is too damn big to play while we’re driving. Check it out! It actually plays pretty good.”

  Alf strummed a few chords. A few heads in the truck stop turned. Alf grinned wickedly and launched into a scorching Jimmy Page Led Zeppelin riff. The truck stop was dead silent.

  “YEAH!” a big trucker yelled. The whole place erupted into cheers.

  “Thanks for being inconspicuous, numb nuts,” said Ron.

  “You’re welcome,” said Alf. “And speaking of inconspicuous, may I remind you that we’re riding in a lime-green metallic Lotus?”

  “Good point,” said Ron.

  Ron and Alf strolled over to the cashier to pay for breakfast, high fiving diners on their way out.

  The cashier was a young woman. She smiled coyly. Her name tag said “Paula.”

  “That was some awesome shredding back there,” said Paula. She paused and stared at the two huge men in front of her.

  “Thanks!” said Alf.

  Paula stared for a moment. She flushed, and her eyes got big.

  “Oh my God!” said Paula. “You’re…you’re…”

  “Yeah, I know…” Ron said, smiling. He knew what was coming next. It was part of being a rock star.

  “Alf Walters!” said Paula.

  “Wait…what?” said Ron.

  “I’ve been learning your licks for years!” said Paula. “I can’t believe Alf Walters is here in my diner!”

  “Thanks!” said Alf. “I’d love to hear you sometime.”

  Alf grinned back at Ron, and pulled out his credit card.

  “I got this,” said Alf. Ron walked back to the car.

  Ron opened the door and stretched against the doorframe. Alf arrived and loaded the moonpies into the back seat. He brought the ukulele with him to the front seat. Ron started up the Lotus with a roar.

  “Inconspicuous, my ass,” said Ron.

  “You said it,” said Alf. “Not me.”

  After a few miles of driving, Alf and Ron switched places, with Alf driving. They drove through farmland, passing logging trucks up Highway 9 on their way up to the Canadian Border. It turned out that the pink ukulele was a good purchase. Singing some classic Buck Owens and Johnny Cash tunes was just what they needed to lift their spirits. Ron strummed the ukulele and Alf played the drum parts on the steering wheel as they sang.

  In Sumas, Washington, Highway 9 was Cherry Street, which led to the border. The Border was a low, beige building with a red roof. Ron stopped the car at the crossing. It was still early in the morning. The eastern sky was just beginning to redden.

  The Canadian border agent greeted them. She was a middle aged woman. She did a double take, sizing up the car.

  “You don’t see many of those around here,” said the woman.

  “Nope,” said Alf. “Just the car for a trip through Canada.”

  The agent looked at them suspiciously. “Reason for visiting Canada, and how long you’ll be staying.”

  “We’re just passing through to Alaska,” said Ron, handing the woman his passport. “We’ll be out by tomorrow.”

  “In that thing?” she said. “You sure you’re going to make it?”

  “We’ve got moonpies,” said Alf, handing the agent his passport.

  The agent looked at the passports, then back at Ron and Alf. Her face lit up in recognition. Ron flashed her his biggest rock star smile.

  “Alf Walters?” said the woman. “The guitar player? I’m a huge fan! I’ve learned all your licks!”

  “Oh, Jesus!” said Ron. “Not again!”

  The agent looked at Ron. “I guess that makes you Ron Richardson.”

  Ron looked at her nervously. “That it does. Is there a problem?”

  “It’s an honor,” said the agent. “We don’t get a lot of celebrities around here. But really—why are you driving to Alaska?”

  “I guess I may as well tell the truth,” said Ron. “It’s about my woman. I’m going to get my Wildcat.”

  “And you?” the agent said to Alf.

  “Me? I’m enabling.”

  3

  Barbara was in the middle of a busy workday. She was trying to keep Ron out of her thoughts, and was succeeding a bit better than she had been in the middle of the night. Aside from the usual stresses that came from running a National Park, the Lone Pine Lodge itself was preparing for a wedding and dealing with some heavy drama.

  Barbara felt sorry for Jake and Julia. Anything that could have gone wrong with the wedding did. The wedding coordinator had quit and was causing havoc. Julia’s divorced parents were in full battle mode. And now Gus, the pianist at the Redwood Grill and resident musician had to be flown to the hospital in Anchorage, taking his wife Frieda with him. Frieda was to be the officiant at Jake and Julia’s wedding. No music, no officiant.

  There was a knock at the door that Barbara had been dreading.

  “Come in,” said Barbara. Molly Garcia, poked her head in the door. She was Julia’s maid of honor. And since the wedding coordinator had quit, Molly had stepped in and was working closely with Gaston Leroux, the chef at the Lone Pine’s restaurant, The Redwood Grill. There also seemed to be a budding romance between Molly and Gaston. Barbara wasn’t surprised. The Lone Pine Lodge had a good track record for bringing mates together.

  Molly sat down heavily in the chair in front of Barbara’s desk. Barbara’s cat was on high alert.

  “I think I know why you’re here,” said Barbara.

  “You do?” asked Molly.

  “Ryan told me about Frieda and Gus.”

  Molly sighed. “I seriously don’t know what I’m going to do. We can have a wedding without music, but someone needs to perform the wedding. Ryan suggested I talk to you. You wouldn’t happen to know of any rangers who can perform a wedding, would you?”

  “Not that I know of,” said Barbara. “But…”

  “Yes?”

  “I happen to be a minister of the Universal Life Church,” said Barbara.

  “What?!” said Molly. “You mean the church that used to advertise in Rolling Stone magazine.”

  Barbara bit her bottom lip and nodded. This wedding was hard enough for her, especially since Jake was Ron’s identical twin. The memories of Barbara’s own wedding, and the longing that came with it, was impossible to push down.

  “Do you think you could perform Jake and Julia’s wedding?” asked Molly.

  “Well, Jake is one of my oldest friends, and he is my brother-in-law, after all,” said Barbara. “And Julia will be my sister-in-law, so I would be honored to be the officiant.”

  Barbara could feel the tears beginning, and it took all her strength to hold them back. There was no way she could refuse. Still, Barbara wasn’t sure how she was going
to get through the wedding.

  “Oh my God! Thank you so much!” said Molly. She leapt up and gave Barbara a huge hug. Barbara felt as if a thousand pound weight had been put on her shoulders.

  “Of course!” said Barbara.

  “Now for the music,” said Molly. “I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do about the music.”

  Molly looked at Barbara. “You don’t suppose Jake’s brother Ron would do it?” said Molly.

  Barbara felt her stomach clench. Even after all this time, she acutely felt the space that Ron had left.

  Barbara shook her head. “Not going to happen,” she sighed.

  “Sorry,” said Molly. “I didn’t mean to stir anything up.”

  “It’s okay, really,” said Barbara, waving her hand. “It’s a weird situation. I haven’t spoken to Ron in years. He’s the love of my life. My husband. My mate. He’s the one I’m supposed to be with, but his life went one way and mine went the other.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Molly.

  “That’s the way it is with shifters,” said Barbara. Barbara wondered if Molly completely understood. She had seen the way she and Gaston looked at each other. The attraction was unmistakable, even though Gaston was a wolf shifter and Molly was human.

  “You do know about shifters, right?” asked Barbara.

  “Kind of…” said Molly.

  “When we mate, we mate for life,” said Barbara. “If it doesn’t work out, the pain is a constant hole in our hearts. For me, there will never be anyone other than Ron, and I know Ron feels the same. The funny thing is that we can also tell when someone else has found their mate. You’ve found yours, haven’t you? And he’s a shifter, right?”

  Molly nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Let him mark you,” said Barbara. “I know it’s scary, and there are things you don’t yet understand, but you will never know happiness until your mate has marked you.”

  Barbara stood up and held Molly.

  “Thank you, Barbara,” said Molly. “Thank you for everything!”

  Barbara held the tears back until the doors closed. The floodgates opened. God! How was she supposed to get through the wedding ceremony?

  “I’m sad now,” said Barbara’s inner cat.