Chapter Thirteen. Greer pulled into a run-down ten-room motel on the outskirts of Taos

Greer pulled into a run-down ten-room motel on the outskirts of Taos. I think I need to hole up for a day or so. Let the crazy news stories die down. Greer knew the reporters wouldn't completely go away. At least not until she appeared and said something, anything, to address the mess she had left back in Chicago. The lawyers had expressly forbidden her from making any statements, but this was becoming a PR nightmare, not to mention it was choking her ability to live her life. She was going to have to talk to Rick and figure out a plan. She needed to say something, shed this silly red hair, and walk the streets like a normal person again. Well, as normal as possible for someone whose photo was constantly featured in celebrity magazines. And maybe, if Ainsley heard an explanation, she might revise her opinion of Greer. She liked Tray well enough, and except for the physical features and name, Tray and I are exactly the same. A nagging sense her comparison was not entirely accurate forced Greer to take her reasoning to the next step. Both of us have lied to her. She probably doesn't have a clue what to believe about what kind of person I am.

Cash bought her a room for the night and, she hoped, some measure of anonymity before she drove off to visit one of her favorite sights. Greer took her time on the drive, drinking in the high mountain air through the open window of the Vette. The bridge over the Rio Grande Gorge was a popular tourist spot, but she hoped most of the weekend vacationers were on their way to the airport to catch flights home. Greer was happy to be far away from the crowds.

The rising mountain lines in the distance were all the company she wanted right now.

Within about twenty minutes Greer pulled into the parking lot on the west side of the bridge. She straightened her cap and looked in the rearview mirror. She was dusty from the drive. No one would mistake her for a rock star, which is exactly what she wanted. She climbed out of her car and walked through the parking lot. A small group of tourists clustered around the open tailgate of a pickup. When Greer looked closer, she could see a short, round Native American woman stoically exchanging wrapped smudge sticks and turquoise trinkets for dollar bills. Greer used to have a whole box of handmade trinkets, rings, bracelets, and fetishes purchased from roadside stands like this one. She wondered how much money the tribal vendor made and if it was worth the hours spent creating these one-of-a-kind pieces tourists haggled over. When the cluster of tourists finally moved on, she approached the pickup.

Greer looked at the simple blanket spread across the tailgate. The large number of items still remaining told her everything she needed to know about tourist traffic on the bridge that day. She was surprised at the variety of items and guessed the selection included items from various members of her pueblo. Greer spotted a group of fetishes. "Zuni?" The woman nodded. Greer recalled the Zuni Pueblo was a couple of hundred miles south and wondered if she had traveled for the day to sell her wares. "May I handle?" She nodded again. Greer carefully selected a small bear crafted from onyx. She was surprised at the level of detail, from the inlaid turquoise heart line to the intricate bundle of gemstones secured on the bear's back. Usually roadside vendors carried the simpler designs. The fetish in her hand was worthy of the finest Santa Fe galleries. Greer searched her memory but couldn't recall the various meanings assigned to each design feature. She started to ask, but before she could get the words out of her mouth, the woman plucked the bear from her hand and replaced it with a different fetish.

"The wolf is better for you."

"It is?"

"Yes."

Greer looked at the fetish in her hand, which in her opinion didn't really look like a wolf. She studied the detailed alabaster carving, including the onyx arrowhead and tiny amethyst nuggets that were secured to the wolf's back with a thin strip of leather. The piece was unique and Greer appreciated the use of materials other than the usual turquoise and coral present in much of the Southwestern art outside of exclusive galleries.

"Are you the artist?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Do you want to know what it means?"

Greer was going to buy the fetish no matter what she said. It was a beautiful piece and likely to be a bargain in this not very busy parking lot, but she didn't want to be rude, so she nodded. She knew the artist wasn't going to quote her a price until she was ready.

"The wolf is a teacher. Pathfinder. You," she pointed at Greer, "you have lost your way. The wolf. He will help you find the right path." She held up the fetish and pointed out the arrowhead. "See this? Arrowhead will give you safe journey. The purple stones are amethyst. Healing." She finished her presentation by closing Greer's palm around the carving.

Greer pulled a wad of cash from her pocket but the woman vigorously shook her head. "It's for you."

"And it's beautiful. I'm happy to pay for it."

"No. It is for you." She smiled. The first real expression Greer had seen her share. "You can buy something else, though, if you want."

Greer returned the smile and purchased a couple of bracelets. She handed over the bracelets to be wrapped, but she slid the fetish into her pocket. Bag of bracelets in hand, Greer walked the trail to the bridge.

The Rio Grande River Gorge Bridge was a cantilever truss bridge, the fifth highest in the U.S. Greer knew from high school field trips that the drop from the bridge to the bottom of the gorge was close to seven hundred feet, but the number alone was meaningless. She paused at the overlook before entering the bridge, and looked down. The view made the height seem every bit as significant as it was. No one would survive a fall. Rafters looked like ants, and the smashed-up automobile on the wall of the gorge was a sharp testament to the relentless terrain. Until you reached the edge of the gorge, it looked as if the desert terrain stretched for miles to the nearest mountain range. Greer idly wondered if, before it was discovered and a bridge was built, explorers heading west had plunged to their deaths, having no idea the ground would open up in their path. It sure looked like giant hands had pulled the earth apart and poured a stream of water in, enough to cover the ground at the bottom, but not enough to break a fall.

She walked along the bridge and leaned closer to the edge. The last week's headlines smeared her reputation in a way she had never experienced, and she knew this was just the beginning. She'd gone from harmless rowdy playgirl to drug-addicted, homicidal predator in less than a day. Now they were saying she was a heartless bitch, and all because she was finally trying to live her life below the radar. They didn't know anything about her. She was no stranger to being maligned by the press, but for the first time in her life she cared what everyone said and thought about her. She was trying to reconnect with her family, and she had finally found a woman who was interested in her, and not because she was a superstar.

It wasn't like Ainsley made a choice. She didn't know who she was kissing.

The thought stopped her cold. Greer had savored the knowledge Ainsley liked her for who she really was, but the truth was Ainsley didn't know her at all. All Ainsley knew was a scruffy redhead named Tray, who seemed shy because she rarely answered a question directly. Greer wasn't anything like Tray. She was bold and brassy, not meek and mild. She might be scruffy in real life, but it was designer scruff, not hand-me-downs from her cousin. Greer knew she had done more than change her looks since she left Chicago. At least when it came to Ainsley, Greer felt like she had become a completely different person. So, what are you going to do about it? Tray would shuffle away in embarrassment over the cluster, but Greer would call Ainsley out and see where things stood. She looked deep into the canyon gorge and considered her choices. Maybe it's time for Ainsley to meet Greer Davis.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30