Lead Me Not. James B. Johnson
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nothing really started until a couple of weeks ago. Bonnie was usually level-headed.
—Yeah, right. Easy for you to say. You’re the tough one. I just want to be held. I just want to be loved. I just want to be wanted. Aloha wrung her mental hands.
—By Rudd.
—Well, yeah.
—Long term, darlin’. Think years. Not months, not weeks, not days. Especially not hours.
—I’m glad there’s a smarter me inside me, said Aloha.
—You been alone too long, sweetheart, said Bonnie.
—I have, I have. And watch your grammar. You’re going to act like a fucking adult, talk like one.
—A point to note, sweetie: You make a conscious effort to speak clearly and with correct grammar, no?
—So?
—That’s a long term thing, too. It don’t bother you to screw up—you just keep plugging on, don’t you?
—Yes—I do! Aloha agreed.
—Same deal. You win some battles, you lose some. The war’s the thing. Learn something when you lose. Bonnie was making a lot of sense.
—I won today and I learned a lot.
—Goddamn right, Aloha Bonnie Blaze. You’re one hell of a special person and deserve the best in life. You almost got it, too, babe. Keep fightin’.
—By God, I will.
—Lissen. About tonight. I got a idea—said Bonnie conspiratorially.
Aloha smiled to herself. If you’re gonna lose a battle, do not go quietly. They shall all know you were there.
Peter and Mary Blaze had gone out for the evening. Not even a note. As usual. That made it easier and more difficult at the same time. Transportation would be tricky. Her education had always been most important to her. She’d rather study and read and forgo having a car if she’d spend her time working for the money to pay for the darn thing.
Not to mention that she was frightened of driving. Something she’d never admit. The always capable Aloha Blaze, afraid of driving? Spin another tale. Nobody would believe it. Not to mention number two: her vanity wouldn’t let her admit her shortcoming.
—Yeah, but you took to flying immediately.
Bonnie, that had everything I like: sex and inordinate height.
—Altitude, corrected Bonnie. Regardless, think about it. You done good. It was a machine and you pointed it in the right direction and made it go there.
—Well, maybe.
The easier part was the dress. She had a demure, but sexy, black satin dress with straps and a plunging neckline. She’d bought it at Gayfer’s one day on a whim, thinking it would make a good prom dress, even though it was probably too daring for high school. It would do tonight, she saw in the mirror. Quickly, she piled her champagne hair atop her hair, in a casual, rich-bitch, regal sort of look.
A touch of makeup, lipstick. No jewelry. Simplicity is best. Besides, she had no jewelry. Just a fancy watch she’d gotten for her birthday a couple of years ago. That works.
Paint the nails, quick, wave them dry.
Raid her stash. Since she’d been alone for so long, she’d learned to hoard cash. She had thirty-some dollars. Would it be enough? Maybe, but better be sure. She went and took some cash from her parent’s pot jar. They kept their marijuana in a cookie jar to insure freshness. Next to it was another cookie jar with the cigarette paper and about a dozen twenty dollar bills. Aloha took three and hoped Peter and Mary wouldn’t notice. She could lie out of it if she had to. She’d done so before.
She finally faced the fact: she was going to have to drive. Her parents had taken their VW bus. Which left Aloha the yellow and blue VW Beetle.
She removed her stiletto heels and tossed them into the back seat. That’s when she almost backed out. It was difficult to face her fears.
—What I’m gonna do? she asked Bonnie.
—Looks like you got a problem, sweetie.
—Call a cab! I can do that, Aloha realized.
—You’re flat out of time, Bonnie pointed out.
Aloha glanced at her fancy watch. “Damn.”
—Gut check time. You can do it.
Aloha agonized.
—What if I wreck?
—Nobody’ll notice the dents in this car. Look, dear, you drove an aircraft today. Just goddamn do it.
—I want to go there badly, Aloha admitted. “Fuck it,” she said. She climbed in careful to protect her dress.
She pulled the gear into neutral even before she started the car, knowing this was safer. Once she had the car started, she went to the far right, past the H layout of first through fourth gears.
The damn thing wouldn’t go into reverse. She stamped on the clutch and jammed the shifter to the right in every combination. No reverse. She put it in first and let up on the clutch and the car lurched forward, banging into the garbage cans in front of her which in turn saved the front of the garage wall. And the VW Bug chugged and stalled.
She got it going again and still no reverse.
“Goddamn it!” Aloha got out of the car and pushed it backwards. Once it got rolling good she jumped in a tried to steer it but the car rammed into the mailbox and the edge of the driveway.
“Shit.”
She managed to shift into first gear and jumped forward, stood on the brake while still in first and the car stalled immediately.
—This ain’t going very well, she observed drily.
—Why me, Lord? said Bonnie.
Aloha got out again and straightened the mailbox, climbed back into the front seat. “Oops.” She got back out and went and pulled down the garage door.
Finally back in the driver’s seat, she started the car smoothly this time, clutch in, shifted into first, chugged a little going into second, and wound the engine too high with too many RPM’s, a term she’d just learned today, missed the shift to third and hit fourth anyway. She looked up in time to swerve away from a yellow and white ’57 Chevy.
—Lights! screamed Bonnie.
“Oops. There.”
She approached her first stop sign timidly. She killed the car, restarted it and lurched into the intersection, narrowly missing a kid on a bike.
She knew Tallahassee’s street layout well, so she headed for North Monroe on all the back streets. “Just as a public service, you understand,” she alibied aloud.
—Thank God, said Bonnie, her seeming voice strangled.
The worst was the heavy Saturday night traffic on North Monroe. She drove a couple of stumbling blocks in the slow lane.
Thankfully, it was cool enough to keep her from perspiring.
Aloha Blaze swerved into the Silver Slipper parking lot with relief. She even had enough sense to circle, and then park in a space pointing out so she wouldn’t have to push the damn car out again.
And that’s when she realized. She remembered her parents depressing the shifter on the far right of the H to get into reverse. She tried that thing.
“I’ll be dipped in sh—”
—Aloha! Bonnie interrupted. Time to start being a lady.
“Here we are and I feel ragged as hell,” Aloha said.
—You’re running out of time.
“But,” Aloha went