Road Trip (Rock Season #2), page 1
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
What’s Next in the World of Rock ‘n’ Romance?
Acknowledgements
Connect With R.L. Merrill
Road Trip
A Rock Season Novel
By
R.L. Merrill
Road Trip: A Rock Season Novel
Copyright © 2015, 2016 Celie Bay Publications, LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published By: Celie Bay Publications, LLC
ISBN: 978-0-9962803-6-5
Edited: Theresa Rogers and Emily Lawrence
Formatted: Bob Houston eBook Formatting
Cover Photo: Reggie Deanching R + M Photography
Cover Model: Scott Secor
Cover Design: Freya Barker
Dedication
I dedicate this novel to the school counselors and police officers I have had the privilege to work with over the past twenty-two years. Thank you for your service.
Road Trip
A Rock Season Novel
By
R.L. Merrill
Chapter One
July 2014
Abra
Ahhhh…school’s out for summer! Work hard all year, two and a half months of vacation. Greatest gig in the world, right? Actually, I really did have it good. As a counselor at a continuation high school, I worked my ass off nine months of the year with the most desperate kids. Every day at work required me to be like a triage nurse: evaluate each case for its severity, apply literal or emotional bandages, and refer out what I couldn’t handle. I had two hundred kids relying on me to help them get their lives back together and I gave my all to the cause, often at the expense of my own well-being. Therefore, I allowed myself to play hard every summer, and playing hard for me meant going to as many concerts and festivals as I could squeeze in. Sweaty, hot, and loud…that was what I needed, and I was about to have a fantastic fix this weekend, even if I was flying solo for the first time in a long time.
Interstate 5 ran the length of California and driving it was always an adventure. Running only two lanes in each direction, it was a constant game of Frogger trying to avoid the big rigs, tumbleweeds, assholes speeding in their Smart Cars—
Oh, hell no! I was not about to be passed by a damn Smart Car in my 2010 Mustang GT. There were some things that could not stand. The speed limit was seventy, I was going eighty, and this old guy was passing me at eighty-five. Uh uh. I stepped on the gas and flew right by him, my metal road trip soundtrack urging me to step on it.
Heavy metal was honestly the soundtrack of my life. It allowed me to sing and scream along and get out all the aggression, anger, frustration, sadness, and yes, depression that my job brought along with it. Healer heal thyself? Yes, please. Some Korn would do just fine, thank you.
In fact, I was headed to see Korn this very weekend. I was going to headbang, crowd surf, people watch, and just fucking LIVE! If only I didn’t have a seven-hour drive ahead of me. Oh well. It would be worth it.
I drove the 580 to get out of the Bay Area and the traffic on this Friday night was killing me. I’d waited to leave until ten o’clock, figuring I’d miss the traffic that way. No such luck. It seemed many of the East Bay’s inhabitants had the same idea: beat the dog days of summer by getting out of town. On the road there were tour buses, fifth wheels, RV’s towing cars, and big trucks towing boats…it was insanity.
My first pit stop of the night was an hour into the trip. Why did I do this to myself? Someday I would learn to not start my trip with a 44 oz. Diet Coke. There were a few families with screaming kids hanging around, despite the late hour, and others walking their dogs. I stood in line for the restroom and got back in my car as soon as I could to avoid any unwanted attention. Dressing the way I did usually kept people away from me, but there was always some jackass who saw a woman alone at night and figured she might “need some good lovin’.” Barf.
Growing up in a rough neighborhood in Hayward, I’d learned at an early age to take care of myself. I had no father to speak of, and Mom wasn’t really available if I ran into trouble. After a few neighborhood scraps with the boys, I learned what I needed to survive. Looks could be deceiving, and heaven help someone who was deceived by my diminutive stature. These skills came in handy with my clientele. The kids didn’t mess with Ms. Mora.
I managed to make it another three hours without having to stop. Barely. By the time the next rest stop came into view I was nearly in tears from the pain in my bladder. I’d been contemplating which would be worse, cleaning up an accident in the car, or copping a squat in the wide-open space next to the road. Luckily I didn’t have to resort to either of those.
I pulled off the interstate and breathed a sigh of relief that not much was happening at this rest stop. I’d been pushing ninety miles an hour for some time now and I’d left most of the other traffic behind. There were only a couple of big rigs parked on the side closest to the highway, and one other car near the restrooms. It was nearing three in the morning and I wasn’t the least bit tired, so when my headlights illuminated the horrific scene in front of me, I knew I hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and succumbed to a nightmare.
Two guys were beating on somebody, who fell to the ground as another guy splashed liquid out of a red can onto him. Before I could think, I laid on the horn and revved my meaty Mustang engine. The growl from the V-8 was enough to send the rough-looking guys scattering. They piled into a van I hadn’t seen parked out of the light. The van and the lone car peeled out and sped off down the on-ramp.
I scanned the area and didn’t see anyone else. We were miles from civilization, but thankfully I had a signal as I reached for my cell. The operator I reached assured me she’d have responders out ASAP.
“Can you tell me if the person is breathing?”
“Yeah. I think so. I saw him go down, but…I can go check.”
“Only if it’s safe, ma’am. Do you see anyone else around?”
“No. Just a couple of big rigs two rows over. Let me go see.”
I prayed that the guy was still breathing as I climbed cautiously out of my Mustang and hurried around to the trunk where I grabbed a Mag-Lite that was as big around as my arm. I kept the phone to my ear and tried to control my breathing. I’d broken up many fights at school, some of the kids being the size of full grown men, but this was out of my element and I was shaking in my boots.
I remained aware of my surroundings as I crept over to the man lying on the ground. I could make out black work boots, black utility pants, a vest covering a plain white T-shirt… Holy shit!
“It’s a cop,” I whispered to the operator.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I think so. There’s no police car anywhere. Oh God. I smell gasoline.” It was burning the shit out of my nostrils. The operator asked me more questions, but my heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear her and most likely hung up on her.
I stepped up next to the man on the ground and could see he was breathing heavy. I heard soft moans as I knelt next to him and touched his shoulder.
Kelly
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled. I was trying to get my bearings, but my adrenaline was pumping so hard, all I could hear was my own heartbeat for a moment. I thought they’d all left after stealing my car and pulling off my uniform shirt. I sat up quickly, reaching for my weapon. Gone. I tried to get to my feet, but all I succeeded in doing was staggering around before falling against something, or someone soft.
“Ooof! Relax! You’re safe now. They’re gone. Dude, you weigh a ton. Stop moving and I’ll help you.” Her high-pitched voice shocked me into a little bit more of a coherent state. I couldn’t see anything other than the halo of the flashlight she’d dropped. I lunged for it, nearly falling on my ass, and spun around.
“Fuck! That’s really bright, dude. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you. Help is on the way, okay?”
This tiny creature in front of me looked more like a rag doll than a potential threat. Torn up stockings stuck up out of black combat boots, a short black dress draped over her small frame, and she was looking at me like I was the crazy person in this scenario.
“Who are you?” I demanded, then felt something crunch in my mouth. Was that a tooth? I spit onto the ground and shone the flashlight on the blood and thankfully it was just gravel. “Son of a beehive,” I spit out.
The girl in front of me laughed. “I’d be using a helluva lot stronger words if I’d just had the shit kicked out of me.”
I put the light back on her and she cringed, covering her face a bit.
“Would you get that thing out of my eyes and let me help you?”
“Why are you here?” I shouted. I felt again for my weapon, knowing at the same time I wouldn’t find it.
“Because I stopped to pee. Duh. Now put that down. I’m not going to hurt you, you big lug!” She walked toward me with her hands out.
I stepped back.
“DUDE! I am not going to fucking hurt you! The guys who did this just took off, all right? I’m just going to look at your head, okay? You’re bleeding.”
She stepped cautiously toward me. I kept the flashlight on her, still not trusting her. Her tiny hand touched my shoulder as she stepped behind me. She was so small, I might have mistaken her for a young teenager, but on closer examination, I could see faint lines around her mouth. She had huge brown eyes. Her brow furrowed deeply with concern. Her touch wasn’t light. She’d obviously been in situations like this before. Her hand touched the back of my head and I cried out.
“Whoa, what is that smell?”
“You almost became your own private Burning Man festival.”
“I what? They hit me with something. I went to get out of my car and they rushed me. I got hit in the head, and then I don’t know…”
She finished walking around me and tried to take the flashlight from me. I yanked my arm away, and she stepped back, her eyes wide.
“It’s gasoline. They were going to—”
“Whoa,” was all I could say. I pulled the Velcro off my vest, grateful they hadn’t gotten it off me as it protected me somewhat from their blows. My thigh and butt were stinging, though, as if the knife one of them had connected. My whole body screamed as I pulled my shirt off over my head.
“I’ve got first aid stuff in my car. You need help, dude. You’re bleeding back here,” she said as she gently pressed the back of my head, “and your pants are ripped—”
“They got in a couple of cuts.” I looked around the area to see if they’d left anything, but it was all gone. “Crumb! They got everything. My belt, my keys, my badge.” Gasoline. Holy Mother, they were going to burn me alive…
“Come on, Officer,” she said in a gentle tone as if she were talking to an injured child. “Let me get you to my car. They could come back.”
She’d somehow managed to catch my weight and was guiding me over to the passenger side of her car. I started to panic, but then she was talking again and the sound of her voice soothed me.
“My name is Abra Mora. I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s just sit you down, okay?”
Her voice was so sweet. It allowed me to let some of the tension go, but then I got the shakes so bad she had to support me almost completely. Somehow she got me to her car, although she barely came up to my shoulder. Something told me she could handle tense situations. There was an air of experience about her. She got the door open and helped me maneuver into the low seat, using her other hand to guide my head in so I wouldn’t smack it.
“Is there someone else I should call, Officer—”
“Graham. Kelly Graham. If you called nine-one-one, the CHP will respond. Do you know where we are?”
“The Buttonwillow rest area. I don’t know what’s around here, though.”
“Thank God you pulled in,” I murmured. “I can’t—”
“Yeah. No, I’m glad, too. Were you on duty?”
“No. I left work at ten and hit the road. I can’t believe…”
“Where are you from?” she asked when I couldn’t quite get the words out, squatting down in front of me. She looked up at me, worry still creasing her forehead. The light from her dome light was hitting her just right so I could get a good look at her face. She was absolutely gorgeous. Not my usual type, I guess. I didn’t know I had one, but she was definitely not a woman who would have caught my eye normally. Heavily tattooed, small-boned. Her face was angelic, but like a dark angel. I blinked hard a couple of times, starting to wonder if I was...
Chapter Two
Abra
“No! Oh, shit.” The cop had passed out. Damn, when was the friggin’ CHP going to get here? And the paramedics? The assholes could come back, he might have more damage done I didn’t see…and I still had to pee!
I looked around, realizing just how vulnerable we were, and scrambled over to grab the flashlight he’d dropped. How the hell was I going to protect us if these guys came back? I could swing the fuck out of this flashlight, but I weighed a buck-thirty soaking wet. I had a bat in the trunk from softball, but I didn’t want to leave his side.
I checked his pulse and it was still strong. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a good look at his face. Damn. How could anyone have found it in them to damage this perfect face? He looked like a goddamned model. Close-cut hair, strong bones in his face with ridiculously full lips, and huge shoulders. This guy was built like he took a lot of pride in his body. Hell, he looked like a damn Boy Scout. Clean-cut to the max. Someone I’d never talk to unless I was trying to avoid a ticket.
His skin felt cold, so I went around to my trunk and grabbed my bat, just in case, and my emergency blanket to cover him up. He moaned softly and turned his head so I could see the cut. Perfect. I grabbed my first aid kit and came back to at least disinfect it. It didn’t look too bad. It probably wouldn’t need stitches. I uncovered his leg and tried to clean the cut through the hole in his pants. Concerning myself with his wounds kept my mind focused so I wouldn’t freak the fuck out. I was still checking him over when I finally heard sirens and saw lights approaching.
A CHP officer pulled up and got out of his car with a flashlight in one hand and his other hand on his weapon. “Are you Abra Mora?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered him and stepped back from the car with my hands out. “He’s in here. He passed out.”
The CHP officer approached us carefully, keeping an eye on me and on his surroundings. His body language read he feared an ambush. As he got closer to the car, he said, “Ma’am, I need you to step back.”
I did as he told me and then he saw the bat on the ground.
“I had it in my trunk. I didn’t know if those guys would come back.”
He looked me over and then looked at the cop in my car and frowned. He spoke into the radio on his shoulder, and I couldn’t make out the muffled reply.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need to—”
“Fine, whatever, just help him.” He motioned for me to walk and he escorted me over to his cruiser.
“If you would please,” he said, opening the back door.
I rolled my eyes. Great. Just what I get for being a Good fuckin’ Samaritan!
“Sorry. He has cuts on his head, his right thigh, and I think he may have one on his backside. He was walking okay after he got up, just really woozy.”
I smiled at him. I remembered something as he shut the door. I tapped on the glass, and he came back and opened the door.
“Officer? I know this isn’t high on your priorities list right now, but I pulled off here because I was having a urinary emergency. As soon as someone else gets here, can I pretty please go take care of business? I’d hate to make a puddle in your car. I swear I’m harmless.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Just stay put and I’ll come and get you.” The CHP officer nodded and shut the door.
I watched him look around the area. Whoever had done this hadn’t left much behind. They even took the gas can. I saw him find my cop’s vest, sniff it, and cringe back. He spoke into his radio and approached the cruiser. He opened my door again.
