Touching Smoke by Phoenix Airicka

Author:Phoenix, Airicka [Phoenix, Airicka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TreasureLine Publishing
Published: 2012-07-30T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The cozy little restaurant was partially empty when we entered. The only other occupants were two men at the bar, hunched over their full bottles of whiskey even though it was eight in the morning. Neither glanced up when we claimed a table at the back.

I didn’t sit.

“I’m going to use the washroom,” I told Isaiah, jostling the duffle bag at my side; I never went anywhere without it, not if I could help it.

Isaiah nodded. “Okay.”

I followed the signs to a set of doors behind the bar, keeping my head down when passing the stooped figures, steadily drinking themselves into a coma. I found the Women’s and slipped inside.

“Hello?” I called, ducking my head and checking under the four stales for feet. When I saw none and no one responded, I closed the door behind me and locked it.

Having survived sixteen years with my mother, you learned quickly that you used the bathroom to its full potential when the opportunity presented itself. You never knew when you’d come across running water again, even if you were provided with a bucket of ice-cold water.

I made quick work taking out my toiletries and lining them up on the counter. I washed my hair first, sticking my head under the nozzle and doing my best to get all the shampoo out before wrapping it in a towel and getting to work washing my face and brushing my teeth.

Stripping, I did a half-baked job of scrubbing myself down with a washcloth and soap before redressing in my last pair of clean underwear, jeans and my favorite tank top that had been buried at the bottom of my duffle for so long that it held the smell of an old gym bag.

I was brushing the knots out of my hair when a knock sounded on the door.

“Uh… coming!” I shouted, stuffing my things quickly into my bag again and hurrying over to unsnap the lock.

The popcorn-haired woman on the other side smiled at me kindly, her brown eyes twinkling the way I always imagined a grandmother’s should. She was tiny, barely four-feet tall with soft, wrinkled skin and short, curly hair. She wore a flower-printed dress beneath a pink sweater.

“Sorry,” I said at once. “I was just—”

She put up her little hand. “It’s been a long drive, hasn’t it?”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

She smiled gently. “You and your beau, you’re on a road trip, am I right?”

My bow? What bow?

The confusion must have been apparently on my face because she giggled. “Your sweetheart. The handsome gentleman waiting for you.”

“Oh!” I felt my face burn. “He’s not… It’s not… We’re not…”

She giggled again. “I understand.” She moved back, allowing me room to pass. “I think he’s beginning to worry.”

Quickly grabbing my duffle off the counter, I thanked her and ducked out.

Isaiah glanced up when I approached the table. He took in my damp hair and clean — cleaner — appearance with raised eyebrows. Yeah, that’s right. I wanted to tell him. This is how I look clean! But I dropped into my seat across from him.

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