Speed Demons (8 page)

“Thank you. I feel so incredibly immature because I can’t just figure these things out on my own. I guess I just don’t trust myself.”

“Hey, you’ve come a long way. You’re eons from the wounded sparrow that landed on my doorstep all those years ago. That’s why I know this woman means more to you than you realize right now. She makes you feel more, and that’s why you panic and don’t rely on yourself. And you know what? That’s how it is for most of us. We meet someone and they make us feel vulnerable. We question them, and we keep our inner debates to ourselves.”

“So you’re saying it’s not just me as a typically awkward person?”

“Oh, honey, you’re not awkward. You never were. I think your parents made you
feel
that way, but the way I see it, it was never true.”

Blythe smiled at the strong conviction in Pearl’s voice. Pearl had once and for all let Blythe know that she was in her corner, no matter what. “Thanks. I needed some sense beaten into me. I’ll ask her. I can use someone there who isn’t impressed with the hoopla since you’re not able to attend.”

“I’m sorry about that, I really am.” Pearl sighed. “If it wasn’t the opening night of Mike’s play—”

“Don’t even think about it. What kind of mother would you be if you dissed your own son when he’s got the lead role? You did say they’re taping the play, right?” Pearl’s oldest son, a senior in high school, was playing Romeo in his drama class’s production.

“Yes, they are. All the parents get a copy, so you’ll be able to see it with him next time we get together.”

“Tell him I can’t wait. I’ve arranged for flowers to be delivered onstage afterward.”

“He’ll be thrilled.” Pearl shared more details about her family, then they hung up, but not before Pearl urged her to call “the woman” right away. Blythe promised, but she had to take a moment to think about it or, rather, what to say. If she didn’t rehearse mentally before the call, she’d end up stuttering and sounding like a complete wreck.

She glanced at the e-mail she’d saved to her desktop and shuddered. Yet another award, something she truly disliked but grudgingly acknowledged the honor of receiving it. This award in particular, since it was for the photos she’d taken in Afghanistan. She’d risked her life carrying out her job there, but so did the soldiers, and even if they received the military’s version of awards, that wasn’t why they did it. Nor did any thought of recognition enter her mind when she crawled between muddy vehicles or became one with the wall in a field hospital, to photograph the faces of wounded soldiers and civilians.

Still, this was different. The award handed out Friday would help inspire young women and also shed light on her subject matter. With a little luck the audience would focus on those things rather than on her. After all, the individual behind the camera did the storytelling rather than basking in the limelight herself.

No matter how much of Friday’s event Blythe had chosen to block from her memory, the arrival of her evening dress at the hotel room pushed it to the front of her mind. Her assistant had made sure she wouldn’t forget and had also left a note with the dress containing information about the makeup artist she’d booked for her and urging Blythe to bring a date.

Having to bring a date was, if possible, even worse than the event itself. The ceremony and celebrity-laden event, being held at the Omni New Haven Hotel at Yale, would be televised nationally. Showing up alone when she was the guest of honor would be bad too. Groaning out loud, she grabbed her cell phone again and pressed Evie’s number on speed dial.

“Hello, Blythe. Don’t tell me you’re bailing on me tomorrow morning?”

“What? Oh, the morning’s run? No, no. I’ll be ready. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“No? What’s up?”

Blythe tried to figure out a good way to ask Evie, but words eluded her completely, internal rehearsal or not.

“Blythe? Are you all right?”

“Um. Well, you see, I’m…eh…” Wanting to thud her forehead against the laptop screen, Blythe bit down hard on her thumb. “You see, I have this thing on Friday evening. I totally understand if you can’t, and honestly, I don’t blame you, since it’s bound to be boring and tedious, and—”

“Hold on, hold on. I may be a bit on the slow side, but you, on the other hand, aren’t making one bit of sense. What’s happening Friday?”

“I have a function.”

“The way you say
function
, I can only surmise that you detest these shindigs as much as I do.”

“I do, and that’s why I understand that you don’t want to join me.” This made perfect sense to Blythe.

“Not that you actually asked me to join you, but why, just to humor me, don’t you tell me more about it?” Evie’s voice held a definite smile.

“Ah. Right. It’s an award thingy, and it’s very formal. You know, tuxedos and evening dresses.”

“Where is it?”

“Omni New Haven Hotel at Yale.”

“You’re kidding!” Evie began to cough. “Around here that’s
the
award this time of year. And you’re not just attending, are you? You’re it. You’re the recipient.”

“I suppose so.” Fidgeting, Blythe wished she hadn’t called, but that wasn’t really true either. No matter her reason for talking to Evie, the sound of her voice invigorated and soothed Blythe at the same time.

“And you’re asking me to go as your, um, date?” If it was possible to detect a blush via the phone, Blythe could see Evie going pink.

“Yes. It never dawned on me that I’d need one for Friday, but my assistant strongly urges me to find one, and you were my first, and only, choice.”

“Really?” Evie sounded genuinely excited. “I’d be happy to. What are you going to wear?”

“Oh, on Friday? A light blue evening dress. My assistant has connections in the fashion industry, and she gives my measurements to the latest new star whenever I need something to wear besides jeans or chinos.”

“I should have her do that for me as well. I’m not much better at shopping for clothes.”

“At least you don’t have to try for the preteen section of the store.” Blythe snorted.

“Ah, come on, you’re not that tiny.”

“Hmm. Don’t bet on it.”

“Anyway, since you’re in blue eveningwear, I know just what to wear. What time should I pick you up?”

“You don’t have to pick me up—”

“You’re the guest of honor. I’m your date. I pick you up. End of argument.”

“What argument? You just steamrolled right over me.” Blythe laughed. Suddenly much calmer about Friday, she tried to remember when she’d actually giggled with someone over the phone last, if ever. “Thanks, Evie. I know it was last-minute.”

“Hey, I was just planning to hang around in front of the TV by myself. You’re doing me a favor.”

Blythe doubted that but didn’t push the matter. “See you tomorrow morning for our jog, then.”

“Sleep well, Blythe.”

“’Night.”

Closing the connection, Blythe refocused on her computer. Perhaps now that she had no reason to fret about Friday anymore, she could get some work done in Photoshop.

*

Evie jogged just behind Blythe, mainly so she wouldn’t run too fast for her, but she had to admit that the sight of Blythe turned her on. Dressed in black leggings and an old sweatshirt, her hair in a curly ponytail, Blythe kept an even pace. Her firm bottom showed how fit she was, as did the fact that she wasn’t out of breath.

Evie had worked on getting into shape again ever since she got back on her feet, but scar tissue still inhibited her mobility in some areas. Despite her flameproof coverall, the heat from the burning vehicles had damaged her. The scars didn’t bother her while driving, but the largest of them, located on her left hip, made her limp a little. This was the reason she preferred to run behind Blythe. She wasn’t embarrassed, but she didn’t want Blythe to pity her.

“How about doing some stretches over there?” Blythe called over her shoulder, pointing at some picnic tables at the far end of the park.

“All right.” Evie jogged over to the closest bench, relieved to get a chance to soften the scar tissue and her calf muscles. Her left hip throbbed, and she couldn’t help but massage it as she performed the stretching exercises her physical therapist had showed her.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Blythe swayed from side to side, pulling at her hamstrings.

“Not recently. Old stuff.” Hoping Blythe would settle for this casual explanation, she stretched harder than advisable. A sharp, stabbing pain pierced the rigid skin tissue on her hip, and she moaned and grasped the picnic table to remain upright.

“Evie!” Moving close to her, Blythe put an arm around her waist, holding her close. “A cramp?”

“No. Just a bit overeager.” Inwardly cursing her carelessness, Evie rubbed at the stinging sensation. She really needed to check the area but didn’t want to pull her leggings down in public and with Blythe there.

“What happened?” Blythe stood between her and the cars passing the park. “You’re white as a ghost.” She looked up at Evie’s face, her eyes darkening.

“Just a scar that bothers me sometimes.” She took a deep breath. “I need to sit down and make sure I didn’t tear something.”

“All right.” Blythe helped her sit, then pulled off her own sweatshirt and held it up as a screen. “Go ahead.”

Evie pushed the leggings off her hips and halfway down her thighs. Leaning to her side, she felt along the scar, grimacing at the tenderness.

“Yes?” Blythe tilted her head. “You need to see a doctor?”

“What? No. No. Just sore. I didn’t actually tear anything. I can’t see toward the back, but—”

“Let me have a look.” Blythe knelt next to her and felt along it. “No visible tears. Geez, that’s some scar, Evie. You sure it’s safe to work out the way you do?”

If Blythe had sounded condescending, Evie would have withdrawn completely. “I know it’s ugly as hell,” she said. “And yes, I’m okay to work out as long as I don’t stretch too hard.”

“Okay.” Apparently Blythe took her words at face value. After glancing over her shoulder, she turned back to her with an impish grin. “Better get dressed, though. We have incoming geezers at nine o’clock.”

Two elderly men approached with their Labrador retrievers. “God. Thanks.” She tugged her leggings into place. “I don’t think my tarnished rep would survive being arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Not to mention the tabloids screaming that you were caught in a torrid tryst with another woman in a park, while indecently exposed.”

Evie snorted and thumped Blythe on the shoulder. “Get up from there. You’re not helping by kneeling in front of me.”

“Hey. For all they know I could be a really romantic person proposing to the love of my life.”

Evie stared at Blythe. She hadn’t expected such a comeback, but it was nice to know that the sometimes-so-shy Blythe had such a mischievous sense of humor.

“Now, that would be a gossip column worth reading.” Evie carefully stretched her throbbing leg. It felt better already.

“Oh, you bet. Picture this headline,” Blythe said, mimicking opening a newspaper. “‘NASCAR Star Thwarts Proposal from Glorified Paparazzi, Aided by Geriatric Canine Unit.’”

Evie broke into a fit of laughter, which startled them both. Holding her side, she laughed helplessly while she leaned against the picnic table. Blythe grinned back, and when the two men with their dogs had passed them, she started chuckling too.

“You’re crazy.” Evie hiccupped. “Geriatric canine unit?” She started laughing again.

“It’s the Southerner in me.” Blythe shrugged. “Feel like running the last part?”

“If I can stop laughing.” Evie fell into a slow jog next to Blythe. “So, ready for the award ceremony tomorrow?”

“God, you had to remind me, didn’t you?” Blythe glared at her. “As ready as I’ll ever be, considering I’d rather do the dishes after the event.”

“That’s right. I read up on it. You conveniently forgot to mention that it’s a banquet.”

“I know. Food in public. Oh, joy.”

“You and I have more in common than you’d think.” Evie tapped her temple with the tip of her index finger as they turned to jog the last stretch. “Eating while televised. Not my thing.”

“You move with grace even when you’re injured. I’ll most likely have gravy from hem to neckline when I also have to give a thank-you speech.” Blythe groaned. “Oh, the damn speech.”

“You haven’t jotted down a single word yet, have you?”

“Uh. Nope. How did you know?”

“As I said. We’ve got things in common.” Warmth spread through her system when Blythe rewarded her with another smile. She remembered how rigid Blythe had been only weeks ago, and for her to joke and be silly had to be out of the ordinary. Strangely, the more time she spent with Blythe, the more similarities she discovered. Maybe that’s why Blythe had started to relax a little around her. “Are you expected to write something long-winded, or can you get away with ‘I’d like to thank the academy’?”

“Oh, trust me,” Blythe said, sounding determined. “It’ll be short and sweet. I have a few people to thank, and then I have to remind some of the guests present why we’re there in the first place.”

Intrigued by Blythe’s hardening tone, Evie considered her words. “The soldiers. The civilians in Afghanistan.”

“Yes.” Blythe looked relieved. “The people my lens found. This is about their lives, not my award.”

“I’d say so. Big difference. Pity that some need reminding.”

“Yes.”

They reached the hotel and stopped outside the entrance to stretch some more. This time, she knew Blythe was keeping an eye on her, so she made sure she didn’t overdo it again. “I should grab my car and head home to shower before I cool down too much.” She plucked her car keys from her wrist-pack.

“Good thinking.”

“Thanks for keeping me company. And thank you for not bringing out the camera when I had my pants around my knees.”

“You know, I’m probably the worst paparazzi-in-training you’ll ever meet. I could’ve sold that picture for a lot of money.” Blythe grinned.

“Yeah, you sure suck at this. Thank God.” Evie hadn’t planned it, but something so very endearing in Blythe’s expression when she wrinkled her nose while smiling made her lean forward and gently kiss Blythe’s cheek.