Page 4 of Joy
I took a breath and got in the car.
“I’ll see you get my repair bill.”
Ass.
“Thanks,” I said stiffly.
He pulled onto the road.
“My name’s Gideon Joy.”
Silas didn’t answer.
“Nice to meet you,” I offered.
Silence.
I turned to stare out the passenger window, catching my reflection in the side mirror. Blond hair combed back, face scruffy, glasses, tattoos—maybethatwas the reason behind the silent treatment I was getting. I had a lot of tattoos, and that bothered some people. Not that Silas could see most of them, but I did have some on my neck and hands. One or two tats was okay, but once you’re a colorful canvas, I’ve noticed that people were only more than happy to share their opinion on why it’s a bad idea. Maybe up here in this backwater craphole, looking different was bad.
Or maybe Silas thought they were ugly.
Not that I cared, because he wasn’t winning any beauty contests either.
Also, he was a jerk.
SILAS PARKEDoutside of a big Queen Anne house painted in bright, funky shades of blue, green, and pink. He turned the car off and climbed out, which I assumed was my indicator to follow. There was a sign beside the front walkway.
Bridget & Bernard’s.
“There aren’t any hotels?” I asked, following behind Silas.
“Inns,” he corrected. “This is cheaper.”
“What is it?”
“B&B.”
Ah. Bridget & Bernard. B&B. Funny.
Silas stopped at the front steps and moved aside to let me go up. I walked across the porch and knocked loudly on the front door. A little lady opened it. She was older, maybe in her sixties, and came up to about my shoulders. She had dyed purple hair and wore a lot of cheap costume jewelry.
Bridget, I presumed.
“Why, hello there!” she said cheerfully. “How can I help you?”
“Er—hi,” I said. “I’m looking for a place to stay. I hit a moose….”
“Oh no! That’s the third accident this week. I swear, those damn things…. You okay, honey?”
“Fine, yeah. I just—I hit his car,” I continued, turning to point at Silas.
Bridget glanced around me and her face lit up. “Hi, Silas! How’re you doing, sweetie pie?”
“Fine, ma’am.”
“Ma’am. He always ma’ams me,” Bridget said, laughing. “If Silas brought you here, don’t you worry. We’ll take care of you,” she said, patting my arm.
“I might have to stay for a while,” I answered. “I don’t have a lot of money, so I was going to see about a job in town… to pay for the repairs.”
