Swept Away by Robyn Carr Read Free Book Online Page A

haven’t had a compliment like that in I don’t know when.”
    â€œAnd I mean it, too.”
    On her first weekend in Boulder City she met Gloria, who usually served the dinner hour and every Saturday morning. Gloria, a woman in her fifties, looked at Jennifer and said, “Holy Mother of God.”
    â€œYou’ll get used to it,” Buzz yelled from behind the counter. “Hedda thinks it’s cool.”
    Gloria shook her head. “Why you girls do the things you do is beyond me. Why don’t you at least draw on some eyebrows? I could help you with that.”
    â€œThanks,” Jennifer said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Gloria had a bedridden husband at home and so she kept very flexible hours, something that Buzz seemed to take in stride. While Gloria worked, a neighbor would look in on her husband, and if Gloria got a call, she dashed off, no matter what she might be in the middle of.
    Gloria was best described as a tough old broad. She was a little overweight, but pleasantly so with soft, round curves. She had her short dark hair “done” every week at the beauty shop down the street and it was lacquered into place, not a hair changing from day to day. While her hair was being hammered into place, her acrylic nails were being “filled” and painted bright red, to match her lips. Gloria liked her makeup thick and her eyebrows drawn on in a high arch that made her look perpetually surprised.
    â€œWe could do something with makeup,” she told Jennifer. “Maybe you wouldn’t look so... I don’t know... Naked?”
    â€œI thought it would be quite a statement, but maybe I went too far.”
    â€œThere’s no maybe about it, honey.”
    â€œHedda likes it,” she added.
    â€œHedda’s the one who should shave her head and start over.”
    â€œHey!” Buzz called. “Don’t start trouble. I got enough on my plate with one bald and one with purple hair!”
    Hedda took to Jennifer right away, perhaps because they were both odd and had very limited wardrobes because of slim means. She often brought her little brother Joey to the diner with her. He seemed to be her constant responsibility because of their mother’s working hours. She took care of him every night while her mother worked as a cocktail waitress in one of the casinos, and walked him to school in the morning while their mother slept.
    Jennifer stumbled on Hedda’s home while she was out walking one day. She wasn’t far from the Sunset when she came upon a block full of duplexes, fourplexes and tiny bungalows, all of which were run-down and in want of paint and repair. A string of carports stood behind them and the front yards were almost entirely dirt. She saw a German shepherd chained to a tree in front of one house, a truck pulled right up to the front door and a guy working on the engine in front of another, and a little boy playing in the dirt with a toy truck in front of a third. Emerging from the front door of that last bungalow came Hedda, her book bag over her shoulder. The screen door slapped shut behind her and Jennifer felt as though she’d been propelled back in time.
    Hedda could have been Jennifer fifteen years ago, except that Hedda obviously took more risks in self-expression than Jennifer had ever dared. She and her mother had lived in a great many dumps like that one, and worse than that, they’d spent time on the streets now and then. There was a four-month period when they’d lived in an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon, getting the occasional shower at the Salvation Army.
    A woman with stringy hair and wearing a ratty plaid bathrobe opened the door of that same small house and yelled, “Hedda! How many times do I have to ask? ”
    Hedda whirled instantly. “Sorry, Mama,” Jennifer heard her say. She dropped the book bag, went back into the house and came out again, this time carrying a