Sunset Island - Sunset Secrets Part 9

You know?"

"I suppose I do," Emma said thoughtfully, turning down the music so they could hear each other better. "I mean, before Kurt I didn't know what love was, either."

"But now that you're in it, you know, right?"

Sam asked. "So I rest my case."

Emma nodded thoughtfully. "I guess if you don't feel that way about Pres, then you don't, no matter how hot he is."

"I just have this feeling that love should be ...

gut-wrenching or something," Sam said pa.s.sion- ately. "Like all you can do is think about that person. You can't eat, you can't sleep, that sort of thing."

"That's how I felt with Kurt last summer,"

Emma said. "It wasn't always so wonderful, though."

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "Maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe I'm missing some love chromosome or something. I don't know if I'll ever ..." Sam paused and squinted into the distance. "Hey, Em, are those the mountains?"

Emma, who'd been keeping her eyes on the road, checked the horizon. A dark, peaked ma.s.s to the west seemed to stretch from north to south.

"That can't be the mountains yet," she an- swered. "We're still hours away from Asheville."

"Well, it sure ^s like something."

"I hate to say this, but what it looks like is clouds. Lots of clouds. I think we're headed into a storm." For the first time, Emma noticed what her eyes had been observing but her mind hadn't registered. A number of cars coming the other way on the highway had their lights on, although it was sunny, warm, and only three-thirty in the afternoon.

"We'd better find a place to pull over and put the top up," Emma said.

Setting the emergency blinkers to flash, she pulled off onto the shoulder at the next straight- away. Opening the latches at the top of the windshield in preparation for contact, she pressed the b.u.t.ton to raise the top.

There was a muted groan, followed by nothing.

"What's going on?" asked Sam over the wind.

Now that they were stopped, it was evident that the breeze blowing through the car hadn't just been due to their speed on the highway.

"I don't know. I'm doing the same thing I've always done," Emma said, trying the b.u.t.ton again. This time she didn't even get the muted groan. Nothing happened at all.

"I think we'd better get off the highway," said Sam, nervously eyeing the traffic whizzing by them. "We might need help, and it's a cinch we're not going to find a mechanic sitting out here."

Quickly they climbed into the car and merged back into traffic. The sun was now behind the clouds, and the air itself seemed to have a heavy, greenish cast. They pa.s.sed a truck whose driver honked, pointed ahead, and rippled his fingers downward in an imitation of rain.

"We know!" mouthed Sam, with a gesture of helplessness.

A car full of guys pa.s.sed on their left. The rear window rolled down and a cute blond-haired guy stuck his head out. "Hey, storm!" he called out, pointing deliberately into the distance.

"We know!" Emma mouthed, rolling her eyes.

"They must think we're crazy!" she yelled to Sam.

"We probably are," Sam answered. "We're driving into a storm with the top down!"

The next exit had the unlikely name of Boomer, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Once off the highway, they were dismayed to find a sign that read: Boomer, 5 Miles.

"Maybe we'll get there ahead of the storm,"

Emma said hopefully.

Sam eyed the rapidly darkening skies. "Well, at least we're off the highway," she muttered.

"Now it won't be so bad."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the sky opened. Rain poured down in cur- tains, sweeping over the car and soaking Sam and Emma within seconds. Both of them shrieked at the first sensation of cold water drenching their hair and clothes, but it was immediately obvious there was nothing they could do. It was hard to see and they couldn't drive very quickly. From time to time, Emma tried the b.u.t.ton that raised the top, but by then she really didn't expect anything to happen.

After what Sam thought must have been the longest few minutes of her life, they came to a crossroads with a few buildings scattered about the intersection. Fortunately one of the nearest said Sonny's Gas and Garage.

A rippled metal roof sheltered the area be- tween the station's gla.s.s window and the pumps.

Emma pulled in under it and stopped the car. She and Sam turned to regard each other.

"You should see yourself!" Sam gasped with laughter, pointing at Emma.

Emma's hair was plastered to her skull on one side, and formed a slick lopsided peak on the other. She looked like a conehead experiencing slippage.

"I can't believe I could look any funnier than you do," Emma replied before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Sam twisted the rearview mirror to get a look at herself. Her mascara ran in rivulets down her face. The lines ran all around her mouth and met below her chin, giving her a painted Fu Manchu- style beard. "Whoa, what a babe!" she shrieked.

"All I can say is, I'm glad there are no cute guys here to see me looking like this!" She looked up.

"Uh-oh," she said. "Cancel that thought."

Two guys had just pushed open the door of the gas station and were headed over to them.

"I am totally humiliated," Sam lamented. "And they're cute, too."

The guys peered at the girls, then at the flooded convertible, with amused faces. Already the sudden downpour was slowing to a trickle.

The muscular, sandy-haired one could barely control his mirth. "Hey, gals!" he said. "I see you've been out enjoyin' some fresh air on this beautiful day."

"Oh, funny," Sam commented coolly, going for a sa.s.sy shake of her hair. Oops. Her hair was plastered to her head. The move came off as more of a tic.

The other guy opened Emma's door for her.

She found herself looking into his vivid blue eyes.

"Everyone out of the pool!" he called as a flood of water sloshed out onto the ground.

"We couldn't get the top to go up," Emma blurted out. She slid out of the driver's seat.

"Really?" said the sandy-haired guy. "We thought maybe this was a mobile wet T-shirt party."

Sam slipped out of her seat and stood next to him. With her cowboy boots (which squished a bit) she was a little taller than the guy. She gave him a look of intense interest. "Let me ask you a question," she said, c.o.c.king her head to the side.

"Has anybody ever told you you should be a stand-up comic?"

The guy looked very flattered. "No, but I surely have thought about it," he said seriously.

"Well," Sam answered solemnly, "don't."

The guy turned a bright shade of red.

"She's just a little testy because of our predic- ament," Emma interrupted hastily. "Right, Sam?"

Sam didn't answer. She was too busy looking haughty.

"Listen, is there anyone who could look at the car to see if the top can be fixed?" Emma asked the guys.

"Also dry clothes would be a happening event,"

Sam added, careful not to include the sandy- haired guy in her gaze. "Is there somewhere we can change?"

The dark-haired guy with the beautiful blue eyes gave them a friendly smile and said, "You sure picked the right place to stop. Sonny's just down the road at Ma's, and he's the best mechanic for a hundred miles. Why don't you grab your stuff and let us run you over there? You can change, talk to Sonny, and get some of the best catfish in the country while he checks your car."

Catfish? "That would be lovely," Emma said with her most well-bred smile.

When the guys had gone around the side of the station, Emma turned on Sam. "Why were you so rude to that guy?" she demanded.

Sam grabbed Emma's arm. "Did you see how cute he is? I'm dying!"

"What are you talking about? The short one that you were so mean to?"

"Those muscles!" Sam rhapsodized. "Believe me, rude works. I look like the Swamp Thing at the moment. I had to do something to get his attention!"

Emma shook her head. "Sometimes I think you are completely certifiable."

Just then the guys pulled up in a red pickup truck. The girls threw their stuff under a tarp in back and then squeezed into the cab with them.

The guys introduced themselves as Jake (the dark-haired one) and Scott (with the sandy hair).

They were down from Knoxville to partic.i.p.ate in a customized-sports car rally in the area. They knew Sonny through a mutual pa.s.sion for car racing. Jake explained that they usually towed their race car on a trailer behind the truck, but right now it was inside Sonny's garage for a final tuneup.

"Thanks a lot," Emma said, climbing as daintily from the truck as possible.

"Listen," Scott said, sticking his head out of the window, "if you're still around in a couple of hours, there's a twilight bluegra.s.s jam here at Ma's. Either of you gals clog?"

Clog. It seemed to be a verb of some sort, but Emma hadn't a clue what it meant. "I don't know what-" Emma began.

"Do we clog?" Sam broke in. "Is the Pope Catholic?"

"Swell!" Scott said, his face breaking into a huge grin.

"But I-" Emma tried again.

"Okay, okay," Sam interrupted Emma again.

"I'll tell the truth."

"Thank you," Emma said with dignity.

"The truth is, I'm only fair, but Emma here is a national champion!"

"Get out of town!" Jake crowed.

"How's about y'all have an early dinner, and warm up your tootsies, and we'll be back here when the garage closes?" Scott asked eagerly.

"What have you gotten me into now?" Emma demanded as the guys drove away and Sam hustled her into the restaurant.

"Just a little dancing," Sam said innocently.

"Dancing I have no idea how to do," Emma said as they pushed through the door into the ladies'

room.

"Hey, where's the new, adventurous, free- spirited Emma?" Sam asked, rummaging through her suitcase for the perfect clogging outfit.

"Maybe I could learn to clog," Emma allowed, "but you just told them I was a champion!"

"Emma, Emma, Emma, what's a little hyperbole between friends?" Sam asked, semidistractedly as she pawed through her clothes. "Aha!" she crowed. She held up a metallic bra top with coins dangling from the bottom and smiled wickedly.

"Just wait until Scott sees the real me."

"Is that the kind of thing a person wears clogging?" Emma asked uncertainly.

"Sure," Sam said. "In fact, a real champion like you would dress even trashier. Cloggers are known for their s.e.xy outfits." She gave Emma a wicked smile. "Time for your transformation!"

Ill When the girls came out of the ladies' room, Emma still wasn't certain that either of them had made the right choice for clogging outfits. Sam was wearing the metallic bra top with a micro- miniskirt made out of metallic mesh. Her red cowboy boots (which she had dried with her hair dryer) completed the outfit. Sam had dressed Emma in a sheer black shirt with bright flowers covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and a hot pink stretchy miniskirt that Emma kept pulling selfconsciously away from the curve of her b.u.t.t. It was totally unlike the clothes Emma usually wore. But Sam had convinced her to take a chance, and had used words like stuffy and boring and heiress.

Somehow Emma had gone along with it, and here she was, sidling into the restaurant, feeling like a total idiot.

Fortunately there weren't too many patrons to witness Emma's embarra.s.sment. In fact there was only one, the infamous Sonny, and he was impossible to miss. He was one of the largest human beings Emma and Sam had ever seen. It wasn't that Sonny was fat; he was just . . . big.

His boyish moon-sized face wore a friendly smile as the girls introduced themselves, but took on a solemn expression as they explained the problem with Emma's car.

"Wayl, I dunno. Them new-fangled cars kin be right tetchy t' mess with," he drawled. "On t'

other hand, might jes' be a li'l bug needs workin'