CHAPTER FOUR
The day was already hot and arid, even at 8AM. The hotel manager said they were having an unseasonably warm fall and we would probably approach the upper nineties later that afternoon. As I stood outside by the Jeep and waited for Dex to finish up paying for the rooms, I welcomed the impending heat. I think it was the Pacific Northwestern in me; most of the year we were enveloped in depressing dampness so I soaked up every warm opportunity I had.
The sun sat loftily above the mountains, its sharp light clearing the cobwebs from my foggy head. I was running on very little sleep. When I wasn’t freezing cold from the room’s air con which just wouldn’t switch off, I was dreaming about bedbugs and/or some coyote zombies. After last night’s “incident” (and I’m sure there will be many of them) I convinced myself coyote zombies were an actual thing.
It wasn’t long before Dex emerged from the office and made his way out towards me. He had black shades on, a plain black tee shirt which fit him perfectly and his black cargo shorts. Against the dry backdrop he bared a resemblance to an emo Man in Black.
“The desert seems to suit you, Mr. Cash,” I said, smiling. He didn’t smile back. He went straight for the back of the Jeep and started riffling through his bag in the trunk.
I peeked over as he frantically started dumping stuff everywhere, searching for something.
“Is everything OK? Did your credit card not go through?”
There was no way I could afford to pay for us.
He quickly shook his head. “That’s all fine.”
He sighed loudly and stood up, his hands pressed against the sides of his head. The next words out of my mouth were going to be ‘what is it?’ but there was something hostile about his current crisis. I decided not to say anything and see what would happen.
I bit my lip, looked away at the mountains and kicked up the dust on the ground with my vintage cowboy boots.
He exhaled again, almost like he was begging me to say something, then quickly turned and ran back into the hotel. He went past the lobby, I guess to his room.
It was obvious that he had forgotten something. I looked in the back where his bag had expunged its bowels. Things were scattered everywhere, but as far as I could make out, all of the camera equipment was present. And he had packed several pairs of underwear (boxer briefs, in case you were wondering. I know I had been).
If we had our gear and were able to pay for the hotel, I wasn’t sure what he was freaking out about. So, I just leaned back against the Jeep, the hot exterior already singing my skin, and waited. I was determined not to freak my own self out just because Dex had lost something important. Lately, when I found myself getting panicky over other people I started reminding myself that it wasn’t my problem.
“We’ve got a problem,” Dex said as he came out of the building, his jaw stern, eyes hidden by the shades.
My heart did a few slow thumpa-thumps. Spoke too soon.
“What?” I asked slowly.
He pointed to the door. “Nevermind. Let’s just get going. Can’t do anything about it right now.”
I exhaled and shook my head at him as I got in the car. He didn’t notice.
I waited for him to say something but five minutes into the drive, he seemed more interested in popping his CDs into the player. As he fumbled for a Deftones album, I caught a shimmer from his left hand. I looked closer. He had a friggin’ ring on his ring finger. It looked exactly like a wedding band.
My heart went thumpa-thump again. Only the feeling was much more devastating than anything else that caused my chest distress in the last 24 hours.
Did Dex get married over the last few weeks? I didn’t even know he was engaged - he had always referred to Jenn as his girlfriend.
I felt stupid and naïve and, also, a bit sick. I couldn’t help my feelings. It was now obvious that I liked him a lot more than I had let myself believe. If he was married now…ugh. I just felt like it was all over. My despair surprised me.
I think he must have noticed the sudden weight of my mood because he gave me a curious look.
“What? I know you love Chino.”
I shook my head slowly (though yes, I did love the Deftones’ singer) and nodded at his left hand. How could I have not noticed it yesterday?
He looked down at it and wiggled it around in the air. It was hefty platinum ring and looked handsome on his long fingers.
“Ah, you like it? I’m not much of a ring man but I thought it looked passable.”
“When did you get married?” I said, my voice a little squeakier than I would have liked.
He raised his glasses on top of his head and stared into my eyes. His own looked red and a bit wired. He searched me earnestly for a moment before a smile slowly broke across his wide mouth.
“You’re kidding right?” he asked.
I didn’t know. I shrugged, confused.
He laughed and put his sunglasses back on.
“OK kiddo, I guess now’s the time to fill you in on some things.”
Yes, please.
He reached into his pant pocket with his other hand and fished around for something. I watched, still, but my heart was doing summersaults inside.
“Put out your hand,” he said.
I put out my right one. He took my left one instead, flipped it palm down, and slid a ring over my own ring finger.
I looked down. It was a pretty silver ring with a solitary pear-cut diamond on it.
I didn’t know what to say. Or think. What the hell was going on? I felt the tiniest flicker of a shameless, hopeful thought forming at the back of my head.
“Now we are betrothed,” he announced, which only caused the flicker to flame.
“Ummm….,” was the only response I had.
“Funny, I thought you’d be more into it than that,” he joked. I stared at the ring, then at him and then at the ring again.
“This isn’t exactly filling me in on anything. I would have remembered if we had gotten married,” I finally managed.
“Well, it would depend on how drunk you were.”
I gave him an impatient look. The flame was going out.
He smiled at me and shook his head. “OK, well here’s the thing. We’re going to have to be married for the next couple of days. Hope that’s OK with you. And if it’s not, tough tits.”
“Why?”
“The house, the people we are staying with in Red Fox, the people with the ghost problem, are a devout Christian couple.”
“I thought they were Native American…”
“They are. But converted to Christianity, I guess. Anyway, the only way they said they’d let us stay with them is if we were married. And so I told them no problem, we were. Been married for three years.”
This was not going to go well. I was a good liar when I had to be, but I always got the feeling that people could see straight through me. It was probably a confidence thing.
Not only that but Dex and I were not even a couple. I didn’t see how anyone would possibly buy that we were husband and wife. This scheme seemed cooked up out of a Three’s Company episode and we all knew how those ended.
“You’ll be Perry Foray.”
“That sounds way too much like Perry Farrell,” I said.
“Then it’ll be easier for you to remember.”
He turned his attention back to the dry, endless road and turned up the stereo as if to signify the conversation was over. I will admit that I was feeling a lot better about this scenario than the other scenario (that he had gotten married to Jennifer), but…
I reached over and turned down the volume. He looked ticked but I figured if we were fake married, I could start acting more like a bossy wife.
“What was the other thing?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I sighed. “You lost something. Said you’d tell me about it in the car. We are in the car. The marriage thing obviously wasn’t it. So what was it? Are we getting divorced now too?”
He briefly bit his lip. If I could see his eyes, they probably would have been roaming fretfully.