Page 1 of Mountain Daddy's Girl
1
LILA
“Maybe going faster would be better,” Rosa mutters as a bolt of lightning splits the sky and the Montana storm batters the car, making me feel like I’m inside a toy. “Outrun the storm?”
I’m tempted to pick up my camera and grab some snapshots of the devastation. The heating has tanked and a chill fills the car, a tingle dancing between my shoulder blades.
Rosa scowls across at me. “Really Lila, are you serious …smiling?”
I wipe the look off my face. “Nope.”
She nudges me playfully. “Liar.”
“Great,” Abby mutters.
“What?” I ask.
“Lights in the rear-view.. Being pulled over isjustwhat we need.”
She stops the car at the side of the road … which overlooks a valley.
The cop climbs from the car, a large, tall man in a raincoat. When he gets closer, I see that his face is covered in a thick silver beard. His eyes are harsh as he pokes his head into the car and glares at Rosa. “Just what the hell do you city girls think you’re doing out in a storm like this? You got a goddamn death wish?”
“Who said we’re city girls?” Abby snaps back.
I don’t think now is the time for sassiness, but that’s Rosa being Rosa.
“Just follow me,” the cop says.
“You think we’re gonna just follow a stranger?”
“I’m Deputy Clint Harlan. Text your folks my name if you’re paranoid. I’m taking you someplace you can’t get yourself killed. We got an MMA training camp close by with some spare lodging. You can stay there until the weather clears. Road outta town is flooded anyhow. You’re stuck. So, die in the storm or follow.”
“I think we should follow him,” I say. “This storm isn’t getting any better.”
“I agree, but I wasn’t going to make it easy on the jerk.” Abby sighs and follows the flashing lights of the cop car through the growing darkness.
It takes fifteen minutes winding cautiously through thick woodland before we reach the camp. A silent, dark scattering of wooden cabins, their foundations reinforced with concrete. The deputy is scowling the entire time he shows around some simple, clean, and most importantly,dryrooms.
He looks at Abby in particular. “Showers are down there.” He nods at the hallway. “And kitchen is that way.” He points. “Have yourself a fine ol’ stay.”
Rosa stretches her arms over her head. “I’m beat.”
“Me too,” Abby mutters. “Let’s hope this storm clears tomorrow. For all we know that deputy could be some psycho. Maybe he’s not even a cop. Maybe the uniform is fake. This isn’t the sort of thing sensible people do.”
I can’t disagree … but what choice do we have?
The storm roars and screams like an angry god trying to make a point.
Well, point made.
We go to our rooms. After changing into some fresh clothes, I stand at the window, looking across the concrete plaza at the biggest cabin on the lot. Yellow lights beam defiantly into the darkness, like a big metaphorical middle finger to the bad weather.
I know I should stay put, but the entire point of this trip is to take unique and interesting photographs. Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but it might also let me finish college with a big proud bang.
Pulling on my raincoat and putting my camera in its waterproof bag, I quietly leave my room, tiptoe down the hallway, and leave our cabin. The wind tries to knock me off my feet as I walk toward the light.
Smack, smack, smack, I hear the moment I walk into the big cabin. Then a man’s voice, grizzled and tough, a voice that makesmy heart pound and causes tension to shiver through me like a promise.
