Slugfest

Fifty-seven

It was a tight fit in the Jeep with me, Lucy, Emma, J. C., and Spade and Archer. One sharp turn and I could skewer a passenger.

“Someone rest your hand on that thing so it doesn’t flop around too much,” I said.

“I’ll do it,” J. C. said. “I feel naked going into a questionable situation without my iron bar anyway.” It was rare to hear from a woman who missed her weapon.

A phone rang, and three women fumbled in their bags. I stuck to the driving. The party had started without us, but with as many guests as Jean Moffitt invited I didn’t think we’d be noticed or reprimanded if we arrived fashionably late.

The phone kept ringing. It was mine. Lucy retrieved it from my bag, pushed Answer, and held it to my ear so I could keep driving.

“I just landed.”

I’d almost forgotten about Wrentham. I got off the phone and said nothing to the others but Lucy remembered that he was flying into the Westchester airport.

“Okay. We have to make a stop and we’re gonna need to make room for another passenger back there.” The airport was thirty minutes away as long as I didn’t make a wrong turn. Lucy quietly reset the GPS.

We stopped for gas and a much-needed pee break. Emma and I made an uneasy truce and positioned Spade and Archer on the roof of the Jeep while the others went to the restroom. We wedged an old fleece jacket that I kept in the car for emergencies underneath the piece to keep the noise level down and to prevent the sculpture from bending. Then we threw a tarp over the whole thing and attached it with bungee cords.

“I hope this works. I’d hate for it to fly off on the highway when it’s not even paid for.”

“Why do you have so many of these things?” Emma asked, holding one of the cords as if it were a snake.

“After duct tape, a bungee cord is the single most useful thing you can buy for a dollar. Sometimes two for a dollar. C’mon, get in the car. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Fifteen minutes later J. C. and Lucy emerged from the service station bathroom newly primped. J. C.’s black sweatshirt was loosely thrown over her shoulders and an unnecessary but fashionable belt hung around her slim waist over a white cotton tank top that they’d just bought, three to a pack, in the mini-mart. Her lips were slightly pinker than they’d been before.

“Is that what you two have been doing? Shopping and playing with makeup? Jeez, I could have used some help here.”

“Where’s Emma?”

I pointed to the median, where Emma was balanced on a concrete block clutching an unlit highway light.

“How’d she get over there?” Lucy asked.

“I activated the ejector seat. Whaddaya think? She ran off when I told her we were picking up her father at the airport. I don’t know where she thought she was going, but she realized pretty quickly there was nowhere to go. She’s on foot, on the highway, and now she’s paralyzed with fear and can’t move.

“All right,” I said. “There’s not that much traffic. One of us just has to bring her back.” But the service station was around a slight turn and that made it dangerous and difficult to see oncoming traffic for more than a few seconds—especially if the vehicle was doing more than sixty, which was a good bet on this road at this hour. J. C. would have volunteered if I’d let her, but I wasn’t about to.

“Hey,” Lucy said, “I just met the girl. I like to save my infrequent acts of heroism for people I’ve known more than forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll go. There’s something else you can do.” I looked around the service station for traffic cones but didn’t see any. Improvising, I unwound Lucy’s long red scarf and handed it to her. “See that tree right near the curve in the road? Stand on something and tie this to the highest branch you can reach. I don’t need them to stop, but people will slow down a bit when they see it. At least I hope they do. But don’t stay there. You’ll get killed.”

“Great, if one of them hits me, that’ll really slow things down for you.”

“Not necessary. I’ll go get her after the first car that slows down and sees me.”

Lucy ran to the far end of the service area. She didn’t give herself enough credit for bravery. She clambered over a large tree of heaven ailanthus and attached the scarf. She gave me the high sign. Two cars passed, but only the first had slowed down. Not good.

“What can I do?” J. C. said. I was running low on ideas.

“In my truck I’ve got a big yellow lantern.” I told her to go down to the end of the service area where Lucy was still waiting for more instructions. “Just click it on and off a lot so drivers will know something’s up. I don’t need that much time.”

“You mean like Morse code?”

“Do you know anybody who really knows Morse code? Besides, even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to read it going seventy miles an hour. Just flash it a bunch of times. Wait a minute. I have a better idea.” I ran to the Jeep, drove to the end of the service area, and backed the car over to the side of the road as close as I dared to the highway. I put the hazard lights on. Between the red scarf, the hazard lights, and J. C.’s faux Morse code, anyone who didn’t slow down would have had to be crazy.

I ran back to the spot opposite Emma and waited for my chance. Yes, there was honking and some name calling, but it only lasted a few minutes. I bolted into the road and yanked Emma back to the service area. Lucy drove the car back to our end of the parking lot.