Glitch, page 14
Sandra was distressed as her face was damp with sweat, and her hair was out of order as it hung loose, partially obscuring her face. But the most significant sign of her distress was her rapidly gulping air like a dog in heat. As the girl looked up at him, Ike guessed she was unhappy. Then, opening her mouth, Sandra confirmed it by shouting, "Gawd! Didn't you hear me?"
"Yeah," Ike responded while trying not to give in to his annoyance with her. "And you're lucky it's me and not those troopers back there. Otherwise, that would've ended our little trip."
Suddenly, a flash of temper rose in Ike's voice as he continued, "and what the hell were you doing playin' poke me, poke me with the tape covering those bullet holes in the trunk?"
"It was stuffy in there, and I couldn't breathe," she snapped.
Being in the trunk reminded Sandra of the Sauna incident. When she went to the Marriott hotel in Park City for a weekend getaway, her mom convinced her to join her in the sauna, claiming it would cleanse her of toxins. But she only got a fainting spell from that sweltering heat.
As the girl climbed out of the trunk, Ike had no intention of arguing. And yet, he felt he had to voice his displeasure.
"Well, regardless of that, you should've just stayed quiet," he says.
The girl extracted herself from that trunk, but her left foot landed awkwardly on that gravel-covered ground. Then, acting like marbles beneath her foot, that grit caused Sandra to stumble wildly.
"Oh... Whoa!" the girl shouts as she falls sideways. But, instead of hitting the ground, Sandra lands right into Ike. As he made a noise like someone punched him in the chest, his arms wrapped around her like a squid's tentacles.
Despite this, neither of them ended up in the dirt because the girl's 109 pounds were no match for Ike's robust frame.
With her back against his chest, Sandra turned her face upward, and as their eyes met, she said, "Oh... Sorry about that."
But Ike didn't respond since he was drowning in her hair.
Despite being shorter than him, Sandra's abundant mane smothered the lower part of his face. Ike didn't complain since its silkiness felt lovely, though it smelled of cheap soap.
And at this range, he couldn't help noticing the deep red mixed in with her otherwise dark hair. Ike didn't know what that two-tone hair was all about, but he automatically presumed it was remnants of some dye job.
Tilting his head up just enough to get his mouth out of her hair, Ike says, in a calmer tone than before, "Yeah... Just watch yourself, girl."
As he released her, there was something else Ike noticed. Although it lasted for just a moment, he enjoyed holding Sandra in his arms, the way her lightsome body fit snugly into his embrace.
Like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky, it sparked an old memory in Ike; of a woman no longer in this world and how she once felt in his arms.
Once Sandra became steady on her feet, she suddenly blurted out, "oh!"
Looking down at her right foot, she noticed that her flip-flop was missing. She quickly went to the trunk, where she saw it sitting inside; it fell off when she stumbled from that compartment. But as the girl picked up her sandal, Ike glanced down at her tight little butt.
Remembering that accidental embrace, Ike recalled the enjoyment of the girl's butt pressed into his crouch. So much so that if he were still holding her, he would have a raging hard-on right now. As the girl slipped that sandal back on her foot, Ike squinted and slightly shook his head. He knew he shouldn't get weird thoughts about Sandra because he couldn't do anything real with her.
And yet, there was an added effect of having that girl in his arms. In the same way, a lightning rod gets rid of errant electricity; it dilutes all the pinned-up frustration he has felt toward her. Ike then figures his sudden lust for her must be the reason.
Once she was clear of the trunk, Ike finally slammed it shut.
As he returned to the front of the Lincoln, Sandra headed directly to the rider's side door.
Though the air between them was a lot less tense, the girl apparently couldn't let go of her displeasure at being in the trunk.
As the two of them got into the front seat, Sandra said, "I don't see why I had to hide in the trunk. Isn't that why you got me that disguise, so that people won't recognize me."
As Ike put the car in gear, he didn't want to bicker with the girl anymore. So, as the Lincoln Continental got back on the highway, he gave her the solid facts on that situation they squirmed out of.
"Sandra, cops aren't people," he says. "Those guys are trained to look for anything suspicious. Now, if something happens on a street corner and you ask a dozen people what did you see, you'll get a dozen answers. Why? Because ordinary people just don't pay attention. But back at that checkpoint...."
Ike paused as he slightly shook his head.
"Let's just say that Utah's finest were looking for you," he continued. "And if you were sitting up here, disguise, or no disguise, they would've locked on you like a heat-seeking missile. Get it?"
Glancing at the girl, Ike noticed the slight slumping of her shoulders; and a glistening in her eyes. He clearly knocked the fight out of the girl with his verbal smackdown. Ike also assumed that Sandra finally absorbed how her recklessness almost got them caught.
As Sandra leaned back in her seat, she quickly saw a billboard approaching them. And as it flew by, she recognized it as a big fat advertisement for Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.
That compelled her to ask a question that anyone should before taking a trip.
"Ike... Exactly where are we headed?" Sandra uttered.
Ike let out a grumble as his cheeks formed a unique expression that was neither a smile nor a frown. That question underlined his belief that this girl is ignorant since she should've found that out as soon as she shoehorned her way into his life.
Ike chooses not to criticize or laugh at Sandra; he instead glances over at her and gives her the perfect answer.
"Vegas, baby... Vegas," he said.
* * *
The 36th state of the United States is one of those places where sagebrush and cactus outnumber people. And yet, for some, there is magnetism to this locality.
It could be the light, heat, and desolation, or it might be its remoteness from the great masses of people assembled along the coastlines of this country.
But like people everywhere, they can't resist building cities, roads, power lines, or just a simple home to call their own.
Unfortunately for its inhabitants, Nevada's wilderness always pushes back; and no amount of glass, stainless steel, and concrete will ever change that.
Highway 93 was one of the many things people brought to Nevada, and the Lincoln Continental is utilizing that two-lane asphalt strip.
Being past noon, Ike had the air-conditioner on full since the dry heat of Nevada is unforgiving, but the girl didn't seem to appreciate this one damn bit. With her seat in a reclined position, Sandra had her right leg propped out the open window. And with her sandals off her feet, her pretty painted toes dangled in that hot, dry air.
Ike had tolerated this at first, but after 20 miles, he had enough; because despite the robust nature of the Lincoln Continental's air-conditioning system, it was just no match for Nevada's hot desert air.
Ike then says in a stern tone, "Sandra! If you're trying to give your toes a suntan, can you do it on your own time?"
"Huh?" She uttered as she turned towards him.
"You're letting all this hot air in the car, and I can feel sweat down my back. So, can you give me a break already?"
"Oh. I'm sorry."
Taking her foot out of the window, she then played with the buttons on the door to close it up. Immediately after that, she hit the power seat switch, returning her seat from its reclined state.
"Thanks," he said without looking at her. "Hopefully, it will get a lot cooler now."
However, Sandra didn't mind the weather since it didn't feel hot. Instead, the air streaming over her foot and toes had a gentle warmth, and she liked the feeling it gave her.
Sandra then thought about how today's warm weather was nothing compared to the heat waves that occasionally hit her hometown. When it got boiling, she would waste no time going to her best friend Sasha's house since they have a great backyard pool; she has even done it on school days. Karl knows of her ditching class to hang out at that pool, but he has kept the secret because of the Swimming Pool incident. Suddenly Sandra's memory of what happened floated to the surface.
When Sasha was at school, and her parents were at work, she and Karl quietly went to her house with a photographer. They then did a photoshoot in and around the pool.
She thought what they did was needlessly sneaky because she felt her friend would've been cool about it if she had asked her permission first, but Karl didn't feel the same way.
Having first-hand experience with the conservatism of her hometown, Karl felt there was no guarantee her best friend's parents would approve.
And to this day, Sandra feels the Swimming Pool incident was a missed opportunity to let her friend in on her website. Sandra doesn't know why she hasn't told Sasha, but she suspects the reason might be that part of her feels shame over it.
Shifting a little in her seat, Sandra gazed at the vast emptiness around them. Her eyes then focused on the only thing that gave this landscape definition.
Far out ahead was an extensive line of jagged hills, cutting across almost the entire horizon.
Its shades of black and brown looked like a sizeable corroded saw blade with more than a few teeth missing.
Shifting landscapes were the last thing on Ike's mind. Then, glancing over at the girl, he remembered what had happened to them at the checkpoint. And, more importantly, how they got away by sheer dumb luck.
And while that checkpoint was far behind them, Ike wondered what if the Highway Patrol pulled them over, leaving Sandra no chance to hop in the trunk?
Looking at her once more and, more importantly, her long dark hair, Ike says something peculiar.
"Have you ever wanted to act?" he asked.
Behaving like she had zoned out from watching the terrain go past, the girl rapidly blinked. Then, giving her companion a quick double-take to that unexpected question, Sandra grumbled, "huh, what?"
Ike quickly added, "Be an actress... you know, in the movies?"
Not knowing the motive behind such a question, Sandra answered it the only way she could.
"I ... I never thought about it. At least, not seriously, "the girl uttered.
"I have an idea," Ike said as he finally revealed what he had on his mind. "If we made you up to look like a boy, you wouldn't hafta hide in the trunk if we run into the cops again... and it won't be easy."
And he wasn't kidding because Sandra was prettier than any guy he had seen, including a few Rent boys who had crossed his path.
Regardless, Ike added, "but I'm up for a challenge. The first thing we must do is cut your hair..."
Immediately, Sandra's eyes widened, and her mouth popped open. Then, almost instinctively, her right hand grabbed some of her long locks lying on her chest.
"You're not touching my hair!" She screamed.
Not expecting that reaction, Ike felt he almost received a case of tinnitus from the girl's shout, yet he wouldn't let that deter him. Glancing at that still horrified look on her face, Ike then made another suggestion. "Would you consider dyeing it?" he uttered.
With a quick jump of her eyebrows, she barked, "No!"
And she wasn't merely obstinate either; Sandra rejected that idea because of The Dyeing incident. A few short years ago, she wanted to try something new with her hair, so she decided to go blonde. Unfortunately, despite her mom's help, it came out a scary green color. Neither of them knew why, but when they tried to change it, it turned purple instead.
Being so beyond mortified, she wouldn't leave the house until her mom took her to a professional salon. Once her hair was normal again, Sandra learned her lesson: Let no hair dye get near her again, not even for highlights.
Sandra immediately scrambles through the gap between the front seats, landing in the back seat with a big thud. Noting the girl's reaction to his suggestions, Ike made a presumption that was probably on target: That she has a tremendous yet unspoken fear of being disfigured.
As she slowly sat up, Sandra noticed something that only girls with long hair would. When she grabbed her hair, Sandra felt little kinks at the ends. Her hair needs grooming, and she needs to make it happen as soon as possible.
Despite the girl's almost violent reaction to his suggestions, Ike thought it was humorous.
Looking at her through the rearview mirror, he joked, "What's wrong? Afraid I'll ruin your looks for your Internet fans?"
"What!" she snapped.
He then adds, "yeah... I know about your website."
That revelation was like a spoon down her throat for Sandra. Because Sasha, a girl she has known since elementary school, has no clue about it, while Ike, a man she met just two days before, has somehow found out.
In that instant, a question suddenly popped into Sandra's head. How is it that Ike has learned so much about her? Too damn much for her comfort.
Glancing at the girl again with the rearview mirror and seeing confusion all over her face, Ike asked her a friendlier question.
"Why does your website look like Victoria's Secret catalog, anyway?" He says. As soon as that question came out of his mouth, Ike realized perhaps it wasn't so friendly.
And the girl's reaction proved it, as she shot back with an almost sarcastic tone.
"What! Are you saying there's something about me you don't know? Humph, that's incredible!"
"Yeah, well ... I was just askin'."
Sitting there in silence, Sandra felt she had been sucker-punched in more ways than one. But she wasn't furious, just surprised by this revelation and needed time to absorb it all.
But then her tongue loosened, and she answered Ike's question in a very, very extensive way.
"When I started modeling, my mom set up a simple web page for me, with some pics and contact info for jobs," she said. "But there were no real offers."
"Then one day we were stuck at the Denver airport because of a snowstorm, and mom met this guy from Europe... Karl Honecker. And they got to talkin', and he said he helped many girls become models, and he could do the same for me."
Recalling that encounter, many of Sandra's original feelings about Karl jumped to the surface, manifesting with an eye roll and a shake of her head.
Witnessing that with the rearview mirror prompted Ike to say, "So you thought this guy wasn't legit? Some conman?"
Being savagely honest, Sandra didn't hold back as she let out a dismissive little chuckle before quickly following it up with, "ugh, yeah!"
But then she added, "so we googled him right there, and we found out he worked for two modeling agencies in Belgium, but as a scout. But that was good enough for my mom, and she let him take over."
Sandra's tone became a little more serious as she went on.
"He made up the paysite," she says. "And he told us that the big designers and the modeling agencies they work with aren't looking for little girls but young women, and if I'm gonna get their attention, I had to dress like a young woman."
"Huh!" Ike uttered with a slight grin. "So that's why the stuff on your site looks so...."
Ike caught himself before he said the word slutty, and that's because he thought the word might rile the girl, Just like when he accused her of being a ho when they first met.
"... OK, I get it," Ike ended his remark with just a hiccup of a pause. Then, he said, "So you get regular work in fashion magazines and stuff like that?"
It's clear to Sandra that her companion knew little about the mechanics of the fashion world. Therefore she clued him in on how it works, at least how Karl explained it to her.
"Well, not exactly," the girl responded. "You see... it's all about exposure. And the best way to get exposure is to be in runway shows. And the more runway shows you're in, the better your chances are that you'll end up in a magazine like Elle, Vogue, or whatever, but usually only in the editorial section."
Sandra went on, "but if a designer sees you and likes your look, they can hire you for an ad campaign, and according to Karl, that's where the big money is. But since I don't have an agency contract, it's almost impossible for me to get into a fashion week runway show in Paris, London, or wherever. But last year, Karl got me a job doing a catalog spread for this Euro chain store called M&S."
The girl added one more thing, "but then he told me something odd afterward. He said, 'catalog work is OK when you're up and coming, but don't do it when you're over 30 because people will think that's the only work you can get.'"
Ike knows little about that world Sandra was describing, but he knows how the world works. And hearing the little snippet at the end of her explanation compelled him to say, "There's nothing odd about what that Karl guy was saying; it's better to be a rising star than a falling one — didn't you ever see A Star Is Born?"
"A Star Is Born? What's that?" Sandra spouted with a quick jump of her eyebrows.
"It's an old Barbara Streisand film."
"Barbara, who?"
"Streisand!" Ike shot back. He instantly followed that up by saying, "you never heard of Barbara Streisand?"
As she gave a negative shake of her head, Sandra said with a spark of curiosity, "No! Who is she?"
"Oh, boy," Ike said under his breath.
Ike wasn't up to explaining the plot of that long-ago movie; let's know who started in it. Thus, he says, "Ugh ... I'll explain later."
Going back to her website, Ike asks the girl a very pointed question.
"So that site of yours is about that exposure thing too?"
"Yeah," the girl uttered. "But according to Karl, it's just part of it."
"Did you ever think maybe most people checkin' out your site are just pervs?" Ike asks a straightforward and humiliating question.
Sandra didn't see that question as verboten or rude since her website has gotten requests from its members that ran from odd to unbelievable.
