Bike Week Blues (6 page)

Penny Sue hooted. “I can relate. My biker
get-up cost a fortune. Maybe we should go to the show. Is Dolly in
town?”

An image of Dolly Parton and Penny Sue, both
riding Harleys and decked out in the white leather wedding
ensemble, popped into my mind. What a pair they’d be. They’d either
hate each other or love each other—no middle ground. That was one
meeting I’d love to witness. “I’m game.”

Ruthie scanned the article again. “It
doesn’t say whether she’s here.”

“Well, if the week gets boring, we’ll give
it a whirl.” Penny Sue rinsed her cereal bowl and put it in the
dishwasher. “Leigh, do you mind making another pot of coffee? I’m
going to get something, and y’all must promise not to peek.”

“Is this part of the royal treatment?” I
asked, feigning fear. For Penny Sue, the royal treatment could
encompass a lot.

“Yes, I promise you’ll love it. Don’t
look—this may take a minute.”

Ruthie rolled her eyes. I made the coffee.
Who knew what would appear? A male stripper might come streaking
through. Cute puppies, handpicked men for each of us, dozens of
roses, biker outfits—heck, bikes!—anything was possible with Penny
Sue.

I’d chided her for her extravagance,
especially recently, when I couldn’t afford to reciprocate. She
blew me off like a pesky fly. “Forget it, this is Harold’s money. I
get a HUGE THRILL out of spending it!” Harold was the rich, second
husband who’d had an affair with his male assistant. For all her
bluster, Penny Sue’d never gotten over that slight. As
heartbreaking as any divorce was, there’s an extra kick when a
person like Penny Sue gets dumped for a man.

Ruthie and I didn’t have to wait long. The
coffee had just started to drip when noises came from the hallway.
“Whoops!”
a mechanical voice, reminiscent of Ruthie and
Penny Sue’s Furbies (a long story) said. Another second, and
“Whoops!”
again. I came around the L-shaped bar, while
Ruthie leaned back in her chair.

It was classic Penny Sue. A robot about two
feet tall, looking like R2D2 from
Star Wars
, rolled
erratically down the hall, exclaiming
“Whoops!”
every time
it hit the baseboard. Penny Sue stood by the front door with a
remote control that she’s obviously not mastered. The mechanical
man’s right arm was raised to balance a tray with an envelope on
top.

Ruthie giggled with glee and hopped down
from her stool.

The robot, sensing her presence, stopped and
said,
“Hello, hello, hello.”

“What’s his name?” Ruthie called to Penny
Sue.

Penny Sue strode down the corridor. “Not
him, her. This is Lu Nee 2.”

Even I had to laugh at that one. Lu Nee 1
was Penny Sue’s Furby that had met an untimely end.

“What else does Lu Nee do?” I asked.

“She’s our new maid and bodyguard.”

“Maid?” Ruthie said.

“Sure, we can use her to serve drinks and
snacks.”

I took the remote from Penny Sue. “Assuming
we can master this thing.” I studied the control panel’s three-inch
color display surrounded by a slew of buttons and dials. “We need a
ten-year-old to show us how it works.”

Penny Sue leaned over my shoulder and
pointed to the screen. “It transmits everything Lu Nee sees and
hears.”

“Great, we can use it to spy on each other.”
I said flippantly, giving back the control.

“Not on each other, intruders.” Penny Sue
pointed to a button on the right of the unit. “See, it has a Sentry
mode that detects motion and issues an alert.” She pushed the
button, Lu Nee 2 swiveled slightly, then demanded, “Halt! Who goes
there?”

“Cool,” Ruthie exclaimed.

“Well, don’t stand there, take the letter,”
Penny Sue ordered.

Ruthie snatched the envelope and angled it
so I could see. It had Riverview Hotel embossed in the upper left
corner.

Riverview Hotel! The name unleashed a flood
of memories about my divorce and our vacation in October. From
Ruthie’s hesitation, I could tell it affected her the same way. Lu
Nee 2 lurched forward.
“Watch out!”
Darn, the robotic beast
had Penny Sue’s personality. Ruthie and I both jumped backward.

I nudged Ruthie with my elbow. “Open the
envelope before we get killed.”

“Right.” She ripped it open, making no
effort to be neat. Inside were three gift certificates for the
Royal Treatment at the new Riverview Spa.

Penny Sue smiled broadly. “No argument. I’ve
made all the arrangements. First, we’re getting the Royal Treatment
at the spa, then we’re having a gourmet dinner at the Riverview
Restaurant. The three of us, on the deck. Just like old times.

I said a silent prayer to the spirits that
Ruthie claimed watched over us all:
Please guys, cut us some
slack. Let this not be like old times!

Sadly, Penny Sue’s desires must have carried
more weight than mine.

* * *

The Royal Treatment
was a misnomer—the
proper term was heavenly. Three and a half hours of saunas,
whirlpools, massage, facials, and paraffined feet left us warm,
glowing, and as limp as overdone pasta. We made it to the car, then
just sat, too relaxed to move.

“Wouldn’t you like to stretch out and go to
sleep?” Ruthie asked.

“Yeah, I feel like a side of Kobe beef,”
Penny Sue said, forehead resting on the steering wheel.

I bit my lip. She said it, I didn’t! Kobe
beef came from Japanese cattle raised on beer and massaged with
sake. Its claim to fame was the sweet taste and extensive
fat
marbling
. That she’d call herself sweet was no surprise, to
admit to being fat marbled was another matter.

Penny Sue finally mustered enough strength
to drive the four miles to the condo where we tumbled into bed.
Three hours later, refreshed and dressed for dinner, we gathered in
the living room. I brought out my presents for Ruthie to open.
Penny Sue poured wine into plastic cups that she placed on Lu Nee
2’s upraised arm and tray. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t mastered
the robot’s controls. It bumped into a stool, exclaimed,
“Whoops. Where did that come from?”
and all three cups went
tumbling. “Darn, that Chardonnay cost thirty bucks a bottle.”

Considering we were down to one glass apiece
of the expensive stuff and running short on time, we convinced
Penny Sue that she should work with Lu Nee later. With wine in
stemmed glasses that we fetched ourselves, the three of us toasted
Ruthie’s birthday. Though my presents, price-wise, paled next to
Penny Sue’s gifts, Ruthie seemed to like them. Her eyes went wide
at the black, stretch biker shirt with the zipper down the
front.

Penny Sue took the top and held it up
against Ruthie. “This and your Moschino jeans are perfect for Bike
Week.”

Anything’s perfect with two hundred dollar
jeans, I thought. Even the paper gown the gyno gave you would look
good with Moschinos. I handed her the next present, a copy of
The Book of Answers
which I’d picked up at Chris’ Place, a
New Age shop on Flagler Avenue. The book was basically a
super-duper rendition of the old eight ball oracle—you asked a
question and opened the book at random for the answer. Ruthie
immediately closed her eyes, stroked the book’s cover, and snapped
it apart. The page read
, IT WILL BRING GOOD LUCK
. Ruthie
giggled. “I asked what the next year held for me.”

“May I try it?” Penny Sue asked, already
taking the book from Ruthie’s hand. She closed her eyes and stroked
the volume as Ruthie had done. Her lips moved slightly, then she
peeled the pages apart dramatically. Ruthie and I leaned forward to
see.
CIRCUMSTANCES WILL CHANGE VERY QUICKLY
. Penny Sue
smiled smugly. “I asked what would happen to my relationship with
Rich. This must mean we’ll get back together soon.”

Ruthie nodded tentatively. An intuitive
Pisces, something clearly bothered her about the answer. Penny Sue
must have picked up on the feeling, too.

“I think I’ll ask for clarification.” Penny
Sue massaged the book like Kobe beef.
YOU’LL NEED TO TAKE THE
INITIATIVE
, the page read. Penny Sue pouted. “Now I’m confused.
Do you think this means I should call Rich?”

“Ask again,” Ruthie said.

Penny Sue’s squinched her eyes shut with
intense concentration.
MOVE ON
, came the response.

I snatched the book from her. “No doubt
about that—it’s time to eat. Come on, our reservation is at seven,
and with all the bikers, it’ll take twice as long to get there.”
Penny Sue followed reluctantly, glancing back at the book as she
picked up her purse and car keys.

* * *

A round, linen-draped table had been set up
on the deck next to the railing. A peach-colored napkin folded in
the shape of a bird graced each plate that was flanked by an
assortment of silverware and stemmed glasses. A wine bucket cradled
an ice packed bottle of Dom Perignon. Our three chairs were placed
on one side of the table, providing each of us with a view of the
marina. Unfortunately, a huge centerpiece of yellow roses, baby’s
breath, and ferns surrounding a single, glass daffodil stood
between us and the pristine view.

“No boats are docked,” Ruthie observed,
taking her seat in the middle.

“Yeah,” Penny Sue muttered with an edge of
disappointment.

I exhaled with relief, silently thanking the
spirits. This would not be like the last time when a big yacht and
yachtsman caught Penny Sue’s eye.

A plethora of champagne, wine, appetizers,
salads, and entrees, all topped off by cake and an after dinner
drink left us feeling full, fat, and limp again. “Coffee. We need
coffee,” Penny Sue groaned. She turned, raising her hand for the
waiter, then froze, eyes locked on the walkway that led from the
deck to the street. “That’s Rich,” she exclaimed. She tossed her
napkin on the table and pushed back her chair.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“The oracle said things would change
quickly, and I should take the initiative. I’m doing just
that.”

She barreled across the deck and around the
corner like a track star. Okay, slight exaggeration. How about a
middle-aged woman with incontinence? Anyway, I was surprised at how
fast she could move considering the huge dinner she was hauling. I
said before that testosterone affected Penny Sue like
Prozac—perhaps Prozac laced with an amphetamine was a more accurate
description.

The waiter arrived. Ruthie and I ordered
three decafs. “Boy, I hope it goes well with Rich,” Ruthie said,
stirring her coffee.

“You got bad vibes about
the things will
change quickly
prediction. What exactly did you feel?”

“Something dark and sinister. I can’t put my
finger on it, but it wasn’t happy.”

I stared out over the water, considering.
Though I poked fun at some of Ruthie’s metaphysical convictions, I
did believe that everyone possessed intuition or an unconscious
link with the truth, the Universe, or whatever you wanted to call
it. Sure, the ability was more developed in some people, but
everyone had it. How else could a person, like myself, walk up to a
half-finished jigsaw puzzle, pick a piece seemingly at random, and
miraculously put it in place? The act took a mere second or two,
not enough time for the logical mind to sort though possibilities.
It happened all the time, which was one reason I liked puzzles—for
the magical, enchanted rush. No question, the unconscious mind was
hooked into a vast store of information. Whether it was spirit
guides, as Ruthie said, or Jung’s collective consciousness, or
psychic abilities I wasn’t certain. But, I
knew
things from
time-to-time, like a sixth sense, and Ruthie was particularly
gifted in that department.

“What’s Penny Sue doing now?” I asked
Ruthie.

“She’s frustrated.”

Penny Sue rounded the corner at that exact
moment, red faced from exertion.

“No luck?” I asked casually.

Penny Sue poured a dollop of cream in her
coffee and stirred vigorously. “I lost him.” The stirring increased
in intensity. At that rate, the cream might soon turn to butter.
“His message said he was going out of town for a few days.” Her
spoon clanged on the sides of the cup. I reached over and held her
hand still. She took the hint and put the spoon down. “He’s still
registered at the hotel,” she said, lips narrowed.

“That doesn’t mean a thing. He obviously
hasn’t left. Besides, this is Bike Week—all of the hotels are
booked solid. He’ll keep the room while he’s gone, knowing he’ll
never find another when he returns.”

She blew her coffee before tasting it. “Why
didn’t he stop by to say ‘Hi?’”

“He probably didn’t see us, we have our
backs to the room,” Ruthie jumped in. “Besides, he was in a
hurry.”

“I wonder what was so important,” Penny Sue
said tightly, staring up at the drawbridge and a long convoy of
motorcycles. An instant later, her eyes flashed, and she was back
to normal. Honestly, it was like the old cartoon where a light bulb
went off in Popeye’s head. “I think we should look up Pauline.”

Pauline was a psychic we’d consulted on our
last trip. Her predictions turned out to be right. She was also
very strange, bordering on scary. Her house was filled with oils
and potions and lord knew what all. She had a mechanical angel
named Alice, too.

“It’ll be fun.” She glanced at Ruthie. “A
birthday reading.”

Ruthie grinned. “Sure, why not?”

That’s all it took. Penny Sue rebounded from
the pits of depression, yet again. A few minutes later, Frannie May
and Carl (the Klingon) stopped by to offer birthday wishes. They’d
spotted us from their inside table overlooking the deck.

“Carl cleaned up good for Momma,” Penny Sue
observed as the Anninas walked away. “He’s actually quite
handsome.”