Page 5 of 5 Golden Flings

She wasn’t a bad ass, but she was half-ass bad, and all the more effective because no one expected her to be able to kick them in the face while wearing high-heeled pumps.

Anticipation hummed through her veins, making her smile as she drove farther east into the desert and the signs of civilization began getting farther and farther apart. The interstate highway was like a ribbon of modern life winding through prehistoric land, with distant mountains, raw-colored rock formations, and the alien-looking Joshua trees pressing oneach side. Every so often nature presented a strip of green, some trees; she saw no visible reason why the green should be there, unless some underground water rose closer to the surface in those patches.

Being out of her element was good; not having to worry about work, juggle schedules, settle disputes — she hadn’t realized how fettered she’d been by the responsibilities she had gladly taken on, until now when she had to handle no one’s schedule except her own. When she returned home she’d enjoy daily details, happier because she’d had this time to herself.

CHAPTER 4

She exitedthe interstate just before entering Nevada, and once she had crossed the Nevada state line the road she’d chosen angled north/northwest. She followed the directions she’d written down from the navigation app — the phone had promptly lost service as soon as she left the interstate — and drove and drove. The landscape was colorful and majestic in places, stark in others, and mostly empty though at first there would be the occasional passing car. The cars became farther and farther apart, and a sense of isolation grew.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable with being so alone, but neither was she anxious. The roads weren’t complicated, the turns were few, and barring a mechanical breakdown she was right on schedule.

Two hours later, she was no longer so certain of that. The roads didn’t match her written directions. Roads changed, of course, and navigation apps weren’t exactly the most trustworthy. Nova found a place to pull over where the shoulder looked stable, rocky instead of sandy, and pulled an actual, physical map from the glove box. She’d studied it the night before and compared it to her notes and everything had seemedto match, but obviously she’d either missed something or while she was driving had looked to the side at exactly the wrong moment to spot her next turn. No plan could account for human error, and she was definitely human. Careful, yes; perfect, no.

She wasn’t certain how long she’d been traveling on the wrong road. She calculated how long it had been since she crossed into Nevada, her average speed, and did some quick math. She’d filled up at the last gas station she’d passed and wasn’t worried about running out of gas, but she didn’t want to go all the way back to that station to fill up again and ask where she’d gone wrong. Still, that was an option, and the most sensible one if she couldn’t pinpoint the turn she’d missed.

There. The screen shot of her nav app showed a right turn on a road that, according to the faint line on the physical nap, might be a farm road, or even just parallel ruts in the desert. The ruts had to be her missed turn, and by her calculation it was at least an hour of backtracking.

“Shit.” Normally she tried not to swear in public, but she was alone in the car and the single word didn’t adequately express how annoyed she was at herself. She let a few more choice words fly as she turned around on the otherwise deserted road. This time she pressed her speed as much as she dared, to make up for lost time. Some parts of the desert were flat enough and the road straight enough that she could really push the SUV, but other sections for no logical reason went through rocky formations instead of around them.

The one thing she didn’t want was to still be driving when night fell — and they were close to the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. She also didn’t want to inadvertently wander onto restricted government lands, though surely those would be fenced off, right? She hoped so but wouldn’t bet her life on it. A testing range was somewhere in the area and she sure as hell didn’t want to wanderthere.

Her phone beeped with a text and she took a quick glance at it to see two bars of service had miraculously appeared. Supposedly most of the nation had cell service now, but “most” didn’t mean “all.” While driving she often hit spots with no service. While those two bars were still on her phone, she pulled over to re-check her position and see what her navigation app said about the missed turn so she could better calculate her time. She also checked the sunset time, to verify what she’d observed the day before when her attention had been mostly on Anders Patwin and how she could best handle his merchandise.

Sunset was right at five p.m., which meant she needed to get her butt in gear, pedal to the metal, and all other euphemisms for hauling ass.

She hauled ass, watching her speed, the time, the mileage so she didn’t overshoot her turn again. She didn’t have the time to keep backtracking.

Being in a hurry was annoying. Nova didn’t like hurrying, it indicated poor planning, which indicated irresponsibility. She was the epitome of “responsible,” and she was beginning to be damn tired of it all. She was even tired of being annoyed at herself whenever she fell short of her self-imposed standards.

“I need a break from myself,” she muttered.

She lost cell service again not long before she estimated reaching the missed turn, which explained why the app hadn’t signaled her. She slowed, watching for what she expected to be two ruts heading across the desert. The only turn she saw had no road sign, but the map and time said thishadto be the road she wanted. At least it was actually a road and not the expected ruts — not the best road in the world, being nothing more than a rough strip of asphalt laid on the desert floor, with no shoulders, but at least it had painted stripes down the center even if the edges of the asphalt were crumbling.

The cantankerous cell service kicked in again after a few miles, the app telling her that she was indeed on the correct road. Wonderful. Too bad the dead spot had been exactly located to let her overshoot her turn.

The sun was getting alarmingly low when she saw the lights of a service station on the darkening eastern horizon. She glanced at her fuel indicator; she had half a tank, but she wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity to top up the tank, because there might not be another one between here and where she’d booked a motel for the night.

As she pulled up to one of the two pumps, she paused a moment to look around. The parking area was larger than expected for a two-pump station, as was the building. An electric sign parked by the road readLONNIE’S BEER GAS FOOD, which she supposed was how Lonnie ranked the three in order of importance. Lonnie’s was likely more bar than gas station.

She could do without the beer, but her empty stomach said food would be welcome even if it ranked below gasoline, and by eating here she could leave her emergency stash untouched.

After filling up she pulled closer to the door. Two other vehicles were in the parking lot, both older model pickups, one Ford and one Chevy. There were no marked parking slots, just gravel and dirt. Just in the short time she’d been there the sun had dipped below the horizon and a red neonLONNIE’Sblinked on above the door. A lone light at the gas pumps came on at the same time. That was the extent of Lonnie’s efforts to make his place noticeable, but in the middle of the desert he didn’t need a lot; there were no other lights in sight.

With the brief twilight the temperature had dropped from chilly to downright cold. She gathered her leather coat, her small crossbody bag, and her computer bag — not for safety, she didn’t expect her car to be broken into, but to get some work done while she was eating. She wanted to explore methods ofexpanding her internet presence, the better to sell her upcoming increase in merchandise. Maybe Lonnie offered WiFi for his patrons. If not, she’d use her phone’s hot spot. Wait — was that a Starlink sat on Lonnie’s roof?Yes!She was in business here, and the satellite dish reminded her that Starlink was making it increasingly possible for her to do online sales even if she was sitting in her car on the side of the road in a rural area. The possibilities spun in her head, Christmas wishes and dragon kisses all at once.

Dragon kisses?

Get a grip,she thought. Maybe she was a bit unhinged when it came to that dragon, but not once had it given her a kiss.

Opening the door and stepping into the bar was like stepping into a different age. The bar area was well lit, and the order window off to the left showed a brightly lit kitchen, but other than that light came from the neonBig Dogsign on the wall. Two men, the owners of the trucks outside, sat at the bar but with several empty stools between them. Eight four-tops sat in the middle of the room and booths lined two walls, four booths to a wall. That many seating possibilities seemed way too optimistic to her, she didn’t think there were that many people in a thirty-mile radius. On the other hand, as far as she could tell Lonnie had no immediate competition so the place might be filled later on.

There was no overhead lighting that she could see. Neither was there a jukebox, which was a black mark against Lonnie as far as she was concerned. A bar in the middle of nowhere needed a jukebox. That had to be in the book of bar rules somewhere. The floor was wood, blackened with age and warped in some places. The bar was made of tin, except for the top which was scarred Formica. A bartender — perhaps Lonnie himself, loitered behind the bar. He was watching her, not trying to disguise either his interest or a faint expression of alarm. Thetwo men at the bar were watching her in the mirror behind Lonnie.

No doubt about it, she was out of place.

She deposited her coat and computer bag at a table close to the back, where a battered “Restroom” sign was nailed to the wall, as well as an “Exit” sign. Nova always located exit signs, because she planned things like that whether in a hotel, an airplane, or a rundown bar.

Her heels made authoritative little clicks on the wooden floor as she crossed to the bar. There was no sign of a menu but the sign outside said “Food” and she was counting on that.

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