The Gideon Affair

Oh, my word. This RV trip was going to be memorable and then some.

After a couple of days soaking up all that Denver had to offer, they picked up their rented RV, went through an exhausting training and safety check, and then took the keys and hit the road. They were now official members of The Good Sam Club.

He loved the freedom of driving when they wanted. Stopping for no reason and exploring every giant teacup or fossilized dinosaur along the way. His folks’ place wasn’t all that far from Denver from a mileage standpoint. They probably could have done it in a leisurely two days, but he insisted on taking the long, long way because camping with Paige was a complete hassle-free delight.

When they pulled into an RV park their first night out, his amazing fiancée whipped up a fantastic meal then rolled out the red carpet and invited the other RVers over for drinks. No one recognized him. The hair, beard, and the fact that the name Gideon never saw the light of day promised some anonymity. It was great just being two regular people out traveling the vast American highways and byways.

Tonight, they were in a campground near a small town that was having a cowboy festival. They were most definitely going. The minute she heard the word cowboy, her eyes lit with interest, she gri

His fiancée had a hard-on for cowboys. Oh man, being together on a remote location set for a movie about goddamn cowboys set in the eighteen hundreds was going to be interesting.

Getting the Ass-Gardian motorhome set up for the night was a breeze, and then they were off. Paige was not the chill and fucking relax type. Tell her there was something to explore, and you had better be ready with walking shoes.

The quaint mountain town was such a picture-perfect slice of Western Americana that his brain exploded taking in every detail. Especially dressed up as it was in a homegrown tradition that the Chamber of Commerce and tourism board must love. As they made their way along the main street, it quickly became apparent that Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, and Teddy Roosevelt were superstars in the town’s historical lore. Paige was in heaven.

Enjoying that she seemed to be having the time of her life, he was picking up a signal that intrigued. What his father had always said was right—figuring out a woman was a lifelong project because when God gave out surprises, the ladies got the bonus pack. Just when you thought you’d seen it all, she busted out something new. In Paige’s case, it was a near constant commentary about families.

“Did you see that? Oooh, a family would love that.”

“This’d be great for families.”

“I’d bring a family here. Wouldn’t you?”

“They should do more to accommodate families.”

She was a broken record on the subject. What the hell was that all about? Did she want to start a family? He was confused but waiting for her to toss out more clues was also hella fun.

They were leaving Nellie’s Ice Cream Emporium, after sharing a double-scoop cone, on their way to check out a store selling cowgirl gear—oh, lord—when it happened.

“Um, excuse me, sir.”

Edward looked around for the voice and found a young boy. He was maybe eight or nine, standing next to Paige at a display of tourist brochures that she was busy stashing in her bag.

“What’s up, little man?”

“My brother thinks I’m crazy for asking, but you’re Sergeant Duke, aren’t you?”

Sergeant Duke. Oh, my fucking god. The action hero character that made him a superstar. The look of certainty on the kid’s face, mixed with unmistakable hero worship, gave him no choice.

“Yep, that’s me. But don’t tell everybody, okay, my dude? My gal and I are on vacation, and you know how girls are.” He rolled his eyes to include the kid in the off-hand slice of guy talk.

The boy smiled. “My mom makes dumb lists. Stuff we have to do. Does your girlfriend do that? I hate lists.”

Edward chuckled and shoved his hands in his pants. “Nah. Mostly she makes suggestions.”

The kid laughed. “My dad says there’s no such thing.”

“What do you mean? No such thing as a suggestion?” He liked where this was going. Never too early to start a boy off on the right track where women were concerned.

“Yeah. Says moms order, not suggest.”

A smile spread across his face. He looked at Paige, who was gri

“Hey,” the kid yelped. “Can I have a selfie?”

“Sure but do you have a phone? Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“No … but my brother does. Hang on!”

Keeping the grimace off his face proved difficult. Shit. And fuck. And shit again. Seconds later, the eager young boy returned with his brother, a taciturn-looking nerd-type sporting a NASA t-shirt and carrying an iPhone 6x.

“See, Shayne. I told you. It’s Sergeant Duke, and he said I could have a selfie. You take it and do it right.”

Well, looked like there was nothing to do but be this kid’s superhero. Edward dropped to his knee so his bulk didn’t overwhelm the youngster and threw an arm around the kid’s shoulder. With his free hand, he made the Sergeant Duke signature move, a clenched fist, and held it up for the picture.

Suitably impressed, Shayne snapped a couple of pictures until Paige moved in to their midst. She whispered, “All I found was the scratch pad from the last campground. It’ll have to do.”

“Okay, guys,” he drawled as the two kids freaked out over the selfies, “who wants an autograph?”

He scribbled a peace sign on the scratch pad, signed his name along with Duke’s initials, and handed each kid the souvenir. Another minute of thanks and the boys ran off. He looked at Paige, slid his sunglasses on, and shrugged. What could he do? Kids were always the exception.

Less than twelve hours later, the shit hit the fan.

Pla

There was life for them beyond Hollywood. She was sure of that. When it was time to put down roots and start a family, she didn’t imagine for a second that Southern California would be where they chose to live. It was exciting to think about what the future held.

The lodge where they were camping was a great big old thing with a restaurant and gift shop and a mini museum full of artifacts and memorabilia from the Wild West days. The place was crawling with families and her mind was ticking along on overdrive.

“Excuse me, Miss Turner?”

She was browsing the gift shop for souvenirs when the pleasant woman who checked them in approached her.

“A package came for you from Los Angeles. I have it at the front desk. Stop by on your way out, okay?”

A package? How was that possible? Carolyn knew where they were, but she hadn’t sent a text saying to expect anything. Everything had been going so well that she didn’t want to be Debbie Downer and immediately assume the worst just because something unexpected happened. But …

One hundred and forty-seven dollars and thirty-six cents of souvenir crap later, she made her way to the front desk of the lodge and tried not to react as if she was walking into an ambush.

The package turned out to be one of those padded envelopes, addressed to her with a return L.A. address that she knew at first glance was bogus. Ventura Boulevard was not part of Glendale. Nowhere close.