Part 30 (1/2)
”Yuck it up, Lois Lame,” Dixie said.
”Who's minding the store?” I asked.
”Taylor, who else? Oh. And Patrick offered to give her a hand.”
I sat up in my seat. A brown s.h.i.+rt serving up Slurpees? What would the bra.s.s think? ”Are you playing matchmaker, Dixie?” I asked.
She shrugged. ”Taylor told you to b.u.t.t out, not me.”
”So where are you off to?” I asked. ”To stock up on ice packs? By the way, your nose, Dixie? Looking good!” I made a thumbs-up. Dixie muttered something not very nice.
”Hey, at least I didn't make a joke about your Roman nose,” I said. ”You know. Roamin' all over your face. Like that. No. I totally respected your feelings. So, where did you say you were going again?”
”We didn't,” Dixie snapped.
”We're taking a bus tour to some of the covered bridges,” Frankie said. ”Want to join us?”
”No, she does not want to join us,” Dixie said. ”You heard her. She's busy prosing. Besides, it's a couples' thing. You know. Romance.”
Frankie colored. His Adam's apple did one of those I'm-in-so-much-trouble numbers. ”Oh. Yeah. Right.”
”Yes, but what trip to Madison County is complete without a visit to at least one of the famous covered bridges?” I asked.
”You wouldn't enjoy it,” Dixie said. ”Crowded bus. b.u.mpy roads.”
”A bus would be a limo compared to a tandem bike,” I pointed out.
”Everyone will be paired off. You wouldn't be comfortable. You'd feel like a third big toe. Isn't that what you call it?” Dixie pressed her advantage.
I winced. That's what my gammy called it.
”A reporter makes sacrifices in order to get the story,” I said. ”Besides, Kenny here looks like he could use a break. He can be my number two. Besides, what artist could turn down an all-expense paid trip to the bridges of Madison County?”
”The shuttle is free, ditz,” Dixie pointed out.
”Even better! What do you say, Mr. Grey? Care to soak up a little local culture?”
”I guess that would work. Business has slowed up for the moment.”
”Great! We'll just help you load these up. Right, Frankie?”
Dixie shook her head, and we watched Frankie help Kenny pack up his stuff and move it to the side door of a dirty white, soccer mom minivan.
”Remind me to horn in on your quality time with Rick Townsend,” Dixie grumbled.
”Oh, for heaven's sake. I'll make like my dad at a wedding. You won't even know I'm there.”
”Right.”
Frankie and Kenny rejoined us, neither of their expressions screaming, ”I'm excited about this plan!”
We boarded a bus. I claimed the window seat, Kenny, the aisle. ”Which bridge are we seeing first?” I asked Dixie, sitting in the aisle seat behind us.
”Roseman,” Dixie mumbled, obviously still put out and not afraid to show it.
”Roseman Bridge.” I did a quick search on my intelligent phone. ”It says here Roseman Bridge is still located at its original location. It was featured in the movie.”
”It's the bridge where Francesca leaves the note for Robert Kincaid inviting him to dinner,” Kenny provided. ”It's also known as the 'haunted bridge,'” he added.
I blinked. ”How come?”
”Apparently, two sheriff's possees had an outlaw trapped on the bridge. Legend has it the bad guy rose up, straight through the roof of the bridge, let out a wild, anguished cry, and vanished into thin air.”
”Holy Houdini! Did they ever find him?”
”No. He was never seen again.”
First haunted ax murder houses. Now haunted bridges. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea, after all.
”Hey! Look!” Someone yelled. ”It's Keelie Keller's bus!”
Definitely not one of my better ideas.
Kenny sat up in his seat, craning his head to see outside the bus.
Oh. That's right. His Keelie connection.
We piled out of the bus. Once outside, the sounds of an argument could be heard. The group quieted, collectively eavesdropping on a not-so-private private moment.
”My best friend? You're hitting on my best friend!” I held my phone up, centering the group of people standing at the entrance to the bridge in my camera frame, and hit the video b.u.t.ton. Manny I could make out easily, his bulk taking up considerable lens s.p.a.ce.
”Jax Whitver, you are a b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Do you hear me? A b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”
I zoomed in on the screecher. It was Keelie. She turned slightly in our direction.
”And Tiara. My BFF. You are through! Do you hear me? Your free ride is over!”
”Keelie! Wait!” Jax ran after her. She stopped, whirled-and wapp!-nailed him with an open-handed slap.
I winced. That was so gonna leave a mark.
Tour bus spectators, finally reacting to the tabloid bonanza unfolding in front of them, held their phones up to capture the moment.
”Get away from me!” Keelie screamed. ”And don't you come near me again, or I'll have you arrested! Do you hear? Just leave me alone!”
Feeling a bit too much like a certain smarmy compet.i.tor for my comfort, I turned the camera off and put my phone away. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kenny's ashen face. He looked like he was about to charge into the fray and save yon fellow ginger.