Page 28 of Beneath the Desert Bloom
“Not Bigfoot. Too mainstream. He specialized in local monsters.”
“You’re still glowing, by the way,” Lauren said casually, squinting at Nora from across the counter.
“I’m sunburned.”
“No. It’s like, inner glow. Like a woman who found God. Or excellent sex.”
Nora shrugged. “Maybe both.”
Lauren blinked. “What.”
“Nothing.”
Nora stepped into the bedroom to change, peeling off her tank top and replacing it with a loose vintage dress that didn’t try too hard. She ran a brush through her hair and added mascara. Not because she needed it, but because Lauren would definitely notice if she didn’t. It actually felt good, like playing dress-up in her own life. A reminder that she hadn’t always been this tangled mess of half-sleep and desert cravings.
Outside the door, she heard laughter, cabinets opening, the distinct click-click of Miso’s tiny claws as the dog patrolled the house like he owned it. When Nora reemerged, Lauren was standing barefoot in the kitchen with a half-full glass of TopoChico and lime. Lauren had changed into a sheer white blouse over a bandeau top, a giant floppy hat perched on her blond curls, and bright red sunglasses despite being indoors.
“Okaydesert chic,” Lauren said, giving Nora an approving once-over. “You’re giving heatstroke mystic, but make it fashion.”
Nora stuck her tongue out at Lauren and reached for her bag.
Miso yipped at her feet and spun in a tight circle.
“He’s ready for town,” Lauren said. “And honestly, so am I. I need a drink. And people. And preferably a bathroom without a scorpion in it.”
They laughed, and Nora’s tension began to ease. For a second, it was easy to forget what pulsed beneath Nora’s skin. The ache, the glow, the mark only she could feel.
“Alright,” Nora said, grabbing her keys. “Let’s hit the scenic downtown. Hope you like two antique stores, one BBQ joint, and a bar that plays nothing but Tom Petty and Lucinda Williams.”
Lauren grinned. “So basically a midwestern lesbian dreamscape?”
“Something like that.”
They stepped outside into the sun. Miso trotted ahead like a tiny general, barking at the heat.
The drive into town was short but sun-soaked, and Lauren insisted on rolling down all the windows despite the heat. Miso rode in her lap, panting with his head out the window, ears fluttering in the wind.
Their first stop was a scenic overlook tucked just outside of town, like a mini version of the national park without the tourists. Twisted trees. Pale boulders. The wind curling in lazy swirls over red earth. Lauren was already posing in front of the tallest Joshua tree she could find, throwing up peace signs like she was auditioning for an influencer brand deal.
“Miso, stay!” she called out, the little white puffball of a dog already yapping at a cactus.
Nora leaned against the hood of her car, arms crossed, sunglasses shielding her face, watching Lauren twirl for selfies while the desert sun beat down on everything in sight.
“You do know there’s sand in your boots now forever, right?” Nora called.
Lauren blew her a kiss. “Sand is exfoliating. This whole trip is basically a spa retreat.”
Miso barked once in agreement.
They stayed long enough for Lauren to burn through a million poses and most of her phone’s battery. When she finally relented, they piled into Nora’s car and drove the five minutes over to Cactus Jack’s BBQ.
“Okay, this town is adorable,” Lauren said as they cruised past the thrift store, an abandoned movie theater, and a hand-painted sign advertising psychic readings and cactus jelly.
“It’s adorable because it hasn’t changed in fifty years,” Nora said, pulling into the gravel lot behind Cactus Jack’s BBQ. “The food’s decent. Just don’t make eye contact with the kitchen floor.”
“Perfect,” Lauren said. “I like a little danger with my dinner.”
Inside, the restaurant was dim and cool, with old license plates nailed to the walls, a decaying taxidermy moose head, and ceiling fans that barely moved the air. A waitress brought them cold beers and a plate of fried pickles without asking. Nora felt herself loosening, inch by inch, as the buzz of conversation and the tang of vinegar and hickory filled the space.
