Glitch, page 16
"Are you thirsty, Sandra?" He asked.
The girl jumped as she gasped. Sandra was so mesmerized by the bottle in her hand; that she didn't notice him there.
Giving him a quick pout, Sandra felt a little angry and embarrassed. Though she knew Ike couldn't read her mind, her body language said enough: she immediately wanted a drink.
Putting the bottle back on the pile, Sandra tried to act as if absolutely nothing was wrong. Then, shifting the shopping basket from her left hand to her right, she headed to the front of the store.
As Sandra and Ike met up at the front counter, she dumped out the basket in front of the shop owner. And as the man sorted through that junk food, she suddenly uttered, "oh! I forgot."
Disappearing from that counter, she left the two men to deal with each other.
As the elderly gent rang things up, he looked over at the girl lingering about that hair utensil display. He then focused on Ike before looking over at the girl again.
And as he did, Ike noticed an intensity in the old man's eyes, which wasn't friendly. But, of course, Ike had seen that look before from people who view you with suspicion.
Ike didn't know why he and the girl were getting such scrutiny, but he felt he better put the shop owner at ease before the man asked prying questions he didn't want to answer.
Nodding his head towards the girl, Ike blurted out, "She's my niece."
And as soon as that came out of his mouth, Ike realized that it sounded so unconvincingly stupid, especially when anyone could see that he was a big brown man and Sandra didn't resemble him.
Turning his face towards Ike, the old man's eyebrows rose as he shot back, "Really?"
Quickly, Ike said the only thing he could think of that could neutralize the tension.
"Yeah, we come from a ... racially mixed family," he said as smoothly as he could.
"Really?" The shop owner parrots himself with a slight nod of the head.
With the sound of her flip-flops sliding across the tile floor, Sandra returned to the company of the two men. And in her hand was one of those cheap comb and brush sets from that hair utensil display.
Tossing that purple plastic combo pack on the counter, Sandra says, "OK, I'm all set."
Ringing up that last item, the shop owner says, "that will be $44.90."
Ike took the white shopping bag that the shop owner stuffed with their goodies.
With a slight grin, he then says to the old gent, "thank you very much."
But the shop owner didn't respond as that pair left his store.
Once outside, Ike couldn't help feeling uncomfortable since he didn't know why that old man gave them the stink eye. Of course, Ike immediately thought it was racial bias, but he considered maybe the old man thought he was about to get robbed. And Sandra didn't seem to notice the old man's mood.
But then, an idea came to Ike that he didn't consider before, and it quickly leaped out of his mouth.
"Sandra," he spoke up. "That old man back there was lookin' at me as if I was your pimp or your sugar daddy."
"Really?" She uttered while glancing up at him.
"Yeah, I guess."
She said matter-of-factly, "Well, I guess that's not surprising since we can't pass for daddy and daughter."
"No, I guess we can't."
Sandra looked down at Ike's right hand. Its golden brownness wasn't important compared to the shopping bag dangling loosely from its fingers. The girl then snatched the plastic bag from his hand before running to the car.
Stopping next to the left rear door, she turns to him and says, "as long as they don't recognize me, that's all that counts, right?"
"Right," he uttered.
The girl got into the back seat as Ike got back behind the wheel of the Lincoln.
With a slight kick-up of dust from its rear wheels, that black car immediately got back on the road, but what those two didn't notice was the old gent exiting the door of his shop.
Putting his right hand over his brow, that shopkeeper squinted at the Lincoln as it went further and further down the highway.
***
Pulling off her disguise, Sandra tossed it on the seat beside her. She then ripped into a bag of soft-baked cranberry oatmeal cookies. Getting the first taste of one, she smiled with delight as its moist texture rolled around in her mouth, along with a hint of orange and almond.
Poking that bag over the seat, she asked, "Want some?"
"Can you give me one of those juices?" Ike responded as his eyes stayed on the road.
Being helpful, she opened one of those cans before reaching over and tapping his right shoulder with it.
Reacting to that can's chilliness, Ike straight away reached over and took that juice with his left hand.
After taking a big swig, he glanced at the girl in the rearview mirror and said, "Are you still thirsty, Sandra?"
Instantly, she knew he wasn't talking about the juice.
She bit into another cookie rather than answer him.
Seemingly unfazed by this lack of response, Ike said, "I wonder what would've happened if I wasn't there. Would ya have guzzled that bottle in one go or take your time about it?"
"I wouldn't drink a whole bottle like that," Sandra said, despite having a mouth full of cookies.
"The lady speaks," he said with a spark of levity.
Swallowing what was in her mouth, the girl continued in a much clearer voice.
"Why even mention it?" Sandra spouted.
"Because it looked like you wanted that booze so bad you were ready to eat the glass just to get at it."
"No, I wasn't — you, you know nothing about it."
Hearing defensiveness in her defiant enunciation, Ike backtracked.
"All right, enlighten me," he asked. "Why do you drink?"
There was a short pause, then Sandra said, "first off, I've never been drunk."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes!" She said emphatically.
The girl believed she was truthful. As for what happened at the motel, Sandra doesn't count that as intoxicated because she could walk and talk without slurring her words. And she certainly didn't pass out either.
Ike, however, didn't believe it for a second; therefore, he persisted.
"So, why drink?"
"It ... it's difficult to explain," Sandra replied, with reluctance in her voice.
Glancing at the girl in the rearview mirror, Ike responded, "well, it's not like you have any place to be, so take your time."
There was another pause before she spoke up again.
"When I did shoots for the paysite," Sandra said, referring to photoshoots. "It wasn't easy. It was a real disaster the first couple of times; nothing went right. And one photographer got mad and called me stupid — and it wasn't my fault — some clothes just didn't fit right, others were itchy, the lighting was too bright, and I couldn't see anything. But worst of all, they kept telling me to do things I didn't understand, and I got confused."
Continuing to speak, Sandra added, "then, one day, we were on our way to meet a new photographer, and Karl took this flask out of the glove box and told me to drink it. It tasted weird, and I asked him what it was, and he said something odd... He told me it was breakfast of champions."
Right then, Ike laughed; it was a big hearty guffaw too.
Surprised by this, the girl wondered if he was laughing at her.
"What's so funny?" She demanded.
As his laughter died down, Ike couldn't repress the grin on his face as he answered her.
"Apparently, this Karl guy is a Kurt Vonnegut fan," He responded.
"Kurt Von ... Who are you talking about?" Sandra asked.
Not holding back at all, Ike immediately says, "he was this writer from the '60s and '70s. His books were bizarre, really out there, and some people thought he was a sci-fi writer, but he was more of a satirist or comic writer. So anyway, 'Breakfast of Champions is one of his books. And..."
"What's so funny about it?" Sandra interrupted him.
"I'm getting to that part," Ike continued. "Anyway, in the book, a waitress serves the protagonists some booze and refers to it as breakfast of champions."
Twisting her lip a little and narrowing her eyes at him, Sandra didn't think it was funny at all, but, in retrospect, she understood now why Karl called it that.
"You can go on with your story now," Ike says.
"Thank you," she uttered. "Anyway, Karl told me to drink it, and I did. He told me it would help me get through the photoshoot, and he was right. So we did the shoot. I didn't feel nervous or stupid and did everything the photographer asked. He even said I was an absolute natural."
"Because of the liquid courage," Ike said under his breath.
Not hearing Ike's crack, Sandra continued, "And I found out later it was vodka that Karl gave me."
"And this Karl gave you booze every time you did one of these photo shoots?"
"No!" she said firmly. "Afterward, I would get a quick drink before I went to a shoot."
"So you're saying that you must get sauced first to do your modeling thing?"
A sudden flash of anger rose in Sandra's eyes, and some came out of her mouth as she shouted, "I said, I've never been..." Then, squinting her eyes and giving her head a quick shake, she quickly added, "oh, forget it!"
Turning away, Sandra poked her mouth out, tired of arguing.
Figuring he would not get any more answers from the girl, Ike returned to work on his juice.
Tossing the empty can on the rider's side floor, Ike says, "OK, I'll take some of those cookies now."
Suddenly, the cookie bag flew right by his head. Hitting the windshield, it bounced off the dashboard before landing on the passenger's seat. A slight frown popped on Ike's face as he quickly looked at that crushed package.
"Thanks," He uttered.
But Ike wasn't sincere since Sandra squashed those cookies beyond reason, and she probably did it on purpose before throwing them at him.
At least he's lucky the girl is a lousy shot because if his old girlfriend, or his mother, had thrown it at him, he'll be wearing a cookie hat now.
* * *
The sun hung low in the late afternoon sky and made the entire western horizon burn a bright lemon yellow while the rough chisel mountains on the eastern horizon became golden with sunlight. And high above them, the silver disk of an almost full moon was already out.
Planted in the middle of this sight was the desert floor, and sitting among its random weeds and twisted Juniper trees was a spot of humanity new to this place.
It didn't quite look like a small town, but this cluster of unique eateries could be the start of one. Some available things are Korean barbecue, Greek frozen yogurt, high-class turkey burgers, and overpriced Ugandan coffee.
And at its center was a brand new, big steely rest stop. Painted in bright yellows and pinks, the place had solar panels, chargers for electric cars, and broadband Internet access.
Along with everything sophisticated travelers crave, it also had old-school services, namely payphones and toilets.
While Ike moves to use the former, Sandra desperately needs to use the latter.
Pushing her way through two sets of swinging Sepia-colored doors, Sandra found herself in a bathroom that seemed out of place for any rest stop.
The room was large and brightly lit with vanilla ice cream-colored walls and a black-and-white checkered floor. But Sandra wasn't interested in any of that because she was not well and looked as bad as she felt, despite having her disguise on.
Feeling dizzy, with sweat covering her paler-than-usual face, Sandra immediately went to find the nearest toilet; luckily, she didn't have to check all ten pinkish stalls since the first one was available.
The girl didn't hesitate to drop to her knees since this bathroom was much cleaner than the one she had previously visited. Removing her disguise, Sandra then stuck her head over the toilet bowl. Making two dry heaves, she desperately wanted to puke, but all that stuff she ate stayed in her gut. Finally, not wanting to feel sick any longer, Sandra tossed back her hair so it wouldn't get in the way. She then jammed two fingers from her right hand down her throat, and that did the trick as all that partially digested junk came roaring out.
After a minute of making awful retching noise, Sandra did the deed and felt much better.
The girl's body slumped over until her butt was on the floor, and her back was against the left side of the stall. Tears also ran down her face, but it was only tears of relief.
Reaching up with her left hand, Sandra pulled a stream of toilet paper off the roll directly beside her head. She then wiped away the sweat from her face and the tears in her eyes. As she caught her breath, Sandra put her right hand on her tummy.
Her stomach pains rapidly subsided, as did her nausea, but something else bothered the girl, and it wasn't just the vomit taste in her mouth.
The fashion world has many anorexic models, but Sandra knows she's not part of that club since she is naturally skinny. And yet, stuffing herself and throwing it back up was a quintessential bulimic maneuver.
Though doing it had nothing to do with maintaining an ideal weight, Sandra feels uneasy because she never wants to do anything to validate that she is a part of that sad sorority.
With her disguise back on, Sandra left the toilet stall and went to the nearest sink; she then fully noticed this high-end restroom.
Looking as if someone carved them out of a single block of stainless steel, the six sinks of this bathroom each had an electronic faucet that seemed only to work when you brought your hands directly under its nozzle. It took Sandra a couple tries to figure that out, and it was the same with the liquid soap dispenser beside it.
The sinks had individual oval mirrors with fluorescent lighting built into their frames. And to top it off, each basin had a stool built right into the floor and made of imitation mahogany.
As Sandra rinsed that nasty taste out of her mouth, she saw two girls about her age. And as they moved past her towards the exit, she heard them whispering. Sandra doesn't consider herself paranoid, but she felt they were talking about her and didn't like it.
With the help of the restroom mirrors, Sandra watched as those two girls looked back at her before whispering further.
Once those two girls vanished out the door, Sandra couldn't help but be unnerved by that. Though she couldn't hear what they were saying, their entire body language created a terrible memory. One she wished she could banish from her mind forever.
Suddenly grabbing her shirt's right shoulder, Sandra quickly sniffed. And the girl confirmed that she's getting a little whiffy, but at least her BO isn't gross like it was after her kidnapping. However, Sandra suspected that those whispering girls also noticed her smell.
The girl immediately thought this would be a great time to clean up since she had the bathroom all to herself.
But immediately, that idea went out the window as a thirtyish dark blonde woman, clad in a gray Walt Disney world 2007 t-shirt and cut-off jeans, barged in. And dragged right behind her was a little kid who appeared to be her daughter since their long hair and outfits were near identical.
When those two opened their mouths, Sandra instantly realized that the kid with the almost waist-length hair was no girl.
"But I wanna go to the little boy's room!" The youngster protested.
"Oh, hush, little man," the woman shot back. "How many times I gotta tell ya, you're not old enough to go to the big boy's room. So get in there and stop whining!"
"I not goin'!" The kid shouted.
In no mood for talkback, the woman grabbed the little boy by his neck and pushed him into one of the toilet stalls. She then quickly followed, shutting the door behind them.
That ruckus continued as the woman shouted, "you better get those shorts off, little man. If you mess up your pants, I'll make sure you won't be able to sit for a year."
Having zero options to deal with her growing funkiness, Sandra moved to vacate this high-end ladies' room.
The girl spotted an automatic hand dryer next to the exit and figured she should at least take care of her still-wet hands. But, despite the high-pitched hairdryer sound, it made an even louder sound suddenly hit Sandra's ears. Inside that toilet stall, that little boy screamed as if his mother was murdering him. Tired of hearing that uproar, the girl took off before her hands were finished. And in doing so, she bumped into two elderly women who were going inside.
Far from any city, Ike had to find out the hard way there are inescapable annoyances in this world.
Although there was a bank of eight payphones, Ike quickly discovered that nearly all of them weren't working. He found the receiver ripped clean off the first one. The next three had no dial tone at all. Unfortunately, some kids had jacked with the one after that, mashing bubblegum inside the mouthpiece and earpiece, making it gross and unusable.
Ike then discovered the keypad didn't work on the sixth one. Pushing its buttons, he couldn't make it work, although a dial tone was coming out of its receiver. The next one, Ike, didn't bother to try. After six previous failures, he is gun-shy and figured it would be a waste of time. As for the last phone in that phone bank, some old woman with a white scarf over her head was using it.
But the woman abruptly ended her phone conversation in a sudden burst of good fortune. As that elderly lady quickly left the scene, Ike briefly wondered whether her call had finished or his presence intimidated her to make it so. Ike didn't really care where the truth lay; he was happy to get access to a working phone.
Punching in his buddy's number, Ike only had to wait for two rings before getting an answer.
Getting his friend on the line again, Ike says, "It's me, Vince."
"Hey, Ike! Where are you?" He said, with cordiality dripping in his voice.
"Still on the road, man."
"Damn, Ike! Takin' your time, aren't ya?"
Adopting an almost comical tone, Ike replied, "Well, you know me, Vince. I never could resist taking the scenic route."
He then quickly followed that up with a quick laugh.
"But don't worry," he continued. "I'll be there by evening unless I get hit by an 18-wheeler."
