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Aunt Velma glanced over her shoulder. "It's a Trekker Truck Stop. When you get a large drink, you pay once and get free refills at every one along the way."
Goldie maneuvered the RV into the large lot and parked in a pull in/pull out spot. The place was huge—rows and rows ofgas pumps, more eighteen wheelers than I could count. The large sign boasted an all-u-can-eat buffet for $4.99 and free hot showers with purchase.
"Stay with me, Zach. You two, this is our first stop, so make the most of it," Goldie added before she hopped out, her grandson dexterously jumping down behind her.
"Why can't we keep driving and just use the bathroom in back?" JT asked, angling his head in that direction.
"Goldie says she's got the tanks all filled so it would be perfect for the new owner," Aunt Velma replied before she too, exited. "Doesn't want the guy to have to empty out our waste."
I crinkled my face up.
"Then what's the point of a camper?" JT grumbled. "This is going to take forever. We're only in Livingston."
Livingston was the next town over from Bozeman, a usual twenty to thirty-minute drive away. I only shrugged, knowing nothing I could say would be helpful, then followed the herd into the building.
After taking care of business, I heard Goldie call to me from across the convenience store over the canned Karen Carpenter song blaring from the ceiling speakers. She stood by the soda machines waving a large plastic to-go cup. "What do you want? Cola? Iced Tea?"
Everyone turned to look at Goldie, who had an exceptional ability to project her voice and a complete lack of concern about what people thought of her.
"Tea," I called back. The truckers who were shopping for preservative-rich nibbles swiveled their heads back and forth between us like they were watching a tennis match.
Goldie nodded and turned back to the machines, grabbing another cup from the dispenser.
"Hey, you look mighty familiar," one man said, walking over to me. He looked like the fourth ZZ Top. "Hey!" His face lit up ina big smile, one gold tooth bright and shiny. "You're in those cop movies. Hey, Ronald, check on this!"
Ronald, who apparently took his fashion sense from country music stars—sporting a pair of jeans, big rodeo belt buckle and a plaid button up with the sleeves hacked off—came around the aisle with the chips and pretzels. "What is it, Ralph?"
Ralph nodded at me as he held a bag of BBQ chips and started chowing down. Crumbs fell down and got lost in his beard. He pointed at me, one seasoned chip between his fingers.
Ronald swung his gaze my way and dropped his coffee, splashing the brown sludge all over the tile floor. "Holy shit. You're...I mean, you know who you are. Can I?—"
"What Ronald's trying to say—he really doesn't have a stutter," Ralph cut in, "is that you're our favorite actress. Very realistic. When you put your foot behind your head in that special move you do, do you ever get stuck?"
I just stared at the men, open-mouthed.
"Can I get your autograph?" Ronald asked, completely in awe of me. "Around my belly button?"
I cringed.
"Here you go." Goldie thrust a big cup in my hand. "I got the Colonic Canon size. Hello, boys."
Ronald and Ralph nodded, but they kept their gazes pinned on me, as if afraid I might run off. Which I might if they'd just blink. "Is she your agent?"
"Agent?" Goldie wondered as she took a sip from her straw.
Ralph ran his fingers over the bottom of his beard. "I understand why you'd need to have someone with you, being famous and all. I mean...you're Silky Tangles!"
Goldie raised an eyebrow, no doubt enjoying this mix-up immensely. If I'd known any better, I'd say she planned it. I took a sip from my own colossal straw to avoid answering.
"Why don't you take a quick picture and then we'll be on our way," Goldie offered, waving her hand in a herding motion for the men to stand next to me.
Ronald didn't hesitate. He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Goldie. Both men moved to stand as close to me as possible and Ronald wrapped an arm around my shoulder, his meaty hand sweaty. The pulsing flash brought me out of my stupor. I gave both men a tight smile and wriggled out of Ronald's grasp.
"Boy, look at the time." I glanced down at my watch-free wrist. "We should be moving on if we want to meet Zach's friend in Billings."
Ralph and Ronald offered their thanks and we left them staring at the small phone screen. "I'll be sure to share this on Facebook," he called out.
Great.
