Page 24 of Road Queens
“For shame, Cassandra. They aren’t gangs. They are ‘security threat’ groups. Just like this isn’t really a prison. And I, not a prisoner.” Irisleaned forward a bit. “I don’t even have to look at Sidney; I can sense her rolling her eyes from here.”
“Everyone in this facility can sense her eye-rolling.”
Iris Rivers looked like a smaller, grayer Cassandra, especially when she smirked. She was wearing the summer uniform of the general female inmate, a navy-blue shirt and pants that looked much like scrubs. Iris had joked that the first year was the worst, as she’d had to endure the blaze-orange version.
“It’s remarkable how relaxing the place can be once you settle in. My worries are few. No taxes, no rent, no grocery shopping, no cooking, no great big house to try and keep clean, no worrying about whatever the new black is.”
No doors, no unbarred windows, no say in ninety-five percent of your daily routine ... yeah, sounds like a dream.
Well, good for Iris for seeing the cafeteria glass as half full. She’d always been able to do that. The one time she couldn’t ... well. That was why she was here, and would be for years. It would have been longer if she hadn’t spent a lifetime presenting as politely nonconfrontational. Turn the Other Cheek should’ve been tattooed on the woman’s shoulder blades.
For all I know, it is.
Naw. No way. Iris was not a fan of body adornment. She didn’t even have pierced ears.
Iris beamed at Cassandra, then looked at the table, then back up at Cass. Her smile faded when Cassandra sighed. “Mom, the only thing more irritating than your inability to look at my scar is pretending I don’t have one.”
Oh, shit.Yes, Iris had a tendency to do that. Still. Sidney held out hope that someday Iris would drop the habit, then reproached herself for major naivete. Yeah, it had been years since the, um, inciting incident, since euphemisms were all the rage this year. But Iris’s crime was essentially on her kid’s face, and always would be.
“I apologize,” Iris said with simple dignity as Cass started to unconsciously rub her scar, caught herself, and let her hand drop to her lap.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
Iris leaned forward and tapped the back of Sidney’s hand. “I haven’t seen you since New Year’s. How are your folks?”
Sidney ignored Cassandra’s arched eyebrows. “Good, they send their love. Or they will when I tell them I saw you. Mom’s selling the salon, and Dad wants to buy an RV and inflict himself on unsuspecting state parks.”
Iris ignored the information to focus on her kid. “Cassandra, dear, you look surprised.”
“I, um. Didn’t know Sidney was still visiting you on her own. Is all.”
It’s not like it was a secret. You could’ve come by anytime and asked. Or called. Or texted. But naw.“Not always on my own. Amanda comes, sometimes. She likes bringing your mom books that skate up to the line of contraband without actually scooting over it. And she likes breaking her own magazine rule, so she also drops offMarie ClaireandELLE.”
“She does, yes!” Iris clasped her hands together. “Tell her I lovedA Modern Guide for the Perplexed. And I’m halfway throughDriving Bitch: A History of Female Motorcycle Riders. Fascinating history. I fancied myself somewhat knowledgeable on the subject once I realized Cassandra had her heart set on a motorcycle, but there was quite a lot more to learn. And the women profiled were fascinating ...”
She’ll want to talk about Robinson or Stringfield or Halterman,Sidney guessed.
“D’you know, I’m just now reading about the founder of the Motor Maids? Dot Robinson? Fascinating woman.”
Cass opened her mouth, but Iris rushed ahead. “The first to win an AMA national competition. Twice! And she spent decades empowering women to ride, because it fit nicely with her agenda: to prove you could be an award-winning biker who held your own with the big boys, without being a man-hater.”
“We know, Mom. She—”
“She’d ride through mud and muck with the big boys, then clean up and put on lipstick and a pillbox hat—can’t you just picture it?—and come down to the bar for some elegant martinis, just as ladylike as you please. It confounded the men.” Iris smirked. “Which was the frosting on the cupcake.”
“Yeah, Mom, we—”
“And a great deal of her fine accomplishments can be laid at the feet of her husband,” Iris added, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I expressed myself poorly. Not the credit for her actions, of course. Those are hers alone. But her spouse was extraordinarily supportive of her work. That makes a difference anytime, but especially back in the thirties and forties. He must have been quite extraordinary too.”
Sidney and Cass knew all about Mr.and Mrs.Robinson. Thanks to Amanda, they knew about Robinson and Halterman and Stringfield and Dautheville and Wallach. Cass had dressed up as Sally Halterman for Halloween three years in a row, for God’s sake.
The moment Amanda realized that her lifelong goal of owning her Hobbit Hole aligned with Cassandra’s goal of owning a bike, she made sure the three of them knew all about the pioneers.
“Given your silence and polite expressions, you two knew all about Dot Robinson,” Iris observed, because she was a shrewd bitch. “And possibly her supportive husband. What a pity we weren’t all so fortunate in our spouses.”
Ouch. Upside: it took Iris five whole minutes to bring him up. New record.
“I’m glad you’re loving the books.” Cass cleared her throat and turned to Sidney. “It’s nice that you guys visit my mom. I didn’t know.”
