“But it sure looked like you were heading that way, like you wanted one last fling before settling down.”
“Oh, I did . . . or thought I did. But I had such a conscience attack, I couldn’t do it. Brian is fun, a jokester, good looking, sexy, but just so rough and egocentric when it comes down to it.” She paused a moment. “I suddenly had this vision of my Richie, so polite and respectful and trusting, as well as . . . pretty good in . . . oh, just such a great guy, head and shoulders above Brian. I felt completely out of place all of a sudden.”
“So, when you left the room, did you come right here? It’s late.”
“I was really messed up in my head. I didn’t even think to put my bikini top back on until I passed someone sitting outside another room who was gaping open-mouthed at my boobs. You weren’t at the pool any longer, so I got in the car for a while, to think, and . . . also so I wouldn’t get in your way in case you were . . . Finally I came here.”
I smiled. We were silent a moment.
“How about you and Shane?” Michelle asked, tentatively. “Did you do anything? I mean, you’re not committed to anyone, so who could blame you if you did.”
“We had a great time,” I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “He’s a wonderful guy.” I stopped there, but something in my expression must have showed more. Or maybe Michelle noticed the protective object Shane had deposited in the waste basket.
“Oh my god, you did it,” Michelle exclaimed, her eyes widening, and her mouth falling open. “You did it, and I chickened out.”
We both broke out laughing at the irony of it. Then she pressed me for details and I had to tell more. We giggled like school girls, and made more than one raunchy allusion and a few bad jokes during the telling. But it was late, and eventually we both calmed down and decided to get some sleep.
“You might want to reconsider which bed you take this evening,” I said. “The sheets on the one you picked earlier don’t look so fresh.”
There was fresh laughter as I made my way to the shower.
* * *
Chapter 3: Journey on
At breakfast, it was apology time for some of us: Brian for soliciting Michelle, she for leading him on and leaving him cold. A truce was made, although there was still some uneasiness between them. And our group dynamics had changed: Brian told no jokes, made less talk in general, while Shane was more assertive in his low key way. He even engineered the day’s agenda — before I knew it, Brian was convinced to escort Michelle on a tour of New Orleans highlights, which he knew well, to make amends for almost raping her and treating her as a whore.
Shane and I did not go along on the tour. We. . . well, we had our own agenda. After signing up for another night at the motel office, we headed straight for my room, and hung the “do not disturb” sign on the outside door knob.
I was dozing, lying on my back, my limbs entangled with Shane’s, when Michelle’s tentative knock sounded on the door. We looked at the clock, and were surprised to see it was late evening.
“I can’t believe they’re back already,” Shane whispered. “See you later in the pool. Maybe we can leave them there and come back to the room. I could stay right here with you for another week.”
But road trips involve many twists and turns.
For one thing, when we all met the next morning for breakfast, Michelle and Brian were edgy — they had made peace and maybe had even relaxed enough to be able to enjoy their tour of New Orleans, but were well aware their relationship held nothing substantial for either of them, and both were antsy to journey on to their own destinations.