So far, Rachelle Allen and Gretchen Hargis are on their way to the FanStory Convention in Atlantic City, but their trip has been full of unexpected detours. Some have been good but this last leg has worn their patience out. This particular detour is named Jane.

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Rachelle's fingers are skimming the keyboard of her phone at light speed. No sooner do I start reading one of her texts before another pops up. She is livid, which is ironic, seeing how Jane was hurling insults at me. Frankly, I couldn't care less what she's saying. As long as she leaves my family out of the equation she can talk trash in four different languages and I'm not gonna care. In a way, and I mean in a very, very small way, I feel sorry for her. To go through life being avoided like a pile of dog poop on the lawn, and then not realize it, well, that just sucks.

I can hear Jane's gasping cries coming from the backseat. She might not have made it in the porn industry, but I was about ready to nominate her for an Oscar. Rachelle is still arguing the point about calling a limo and having her eat our dust as she peels out of the parking lot, but I just can't. Call me a softie or call me stupid, but I can't leave an old lady at some random mall in New York or New Jersey, or wherever the hell we are.

Rachelle graces me with her very manicured middle finger and then turns around to address the red-eyed Jane. "Apologize to her!" Rachelle says, making me flinch as now I have to turn around and face Jane.

Now, apologies are great, when they come from the heart. But an apology made at gun point, not so much. Jane looks down sullenly, spitting the word sorry out like it was a piece of gristle from her steak. Not good enough. Rachelle commands her to do it again...with feeling this time. I nod, not trusting myself to look Jane in the eye. I'm sure the message I will get from her face will not match the words coming out of her mouth.

Rachelle tells her to sit back and shut up and then glares at me.

"Was that really necessary?" I whisper, even though the glass barrier is up between us and the backseat.

She cuts her eyes at me. "I can put you back there as well," she snaps.

I don't press it, just look once more a tinted divider wondering how I'd be feeling back there.

After the pink has left Rachelle's face, I speak. "Should I have said thank you?" I ask, a teasing tone in my voice.

She rolls her eyes and I can see the start of a smile play across her face. "Don't start, Hargis."

"I wouldn't say that, just so you know. I know she isn't sorry. She did what she had to stay in the car. Just because I'm not confrontational doesn't mean I'm gullible. And, I never forgive and forget. All an apology does is move you up or down on my list of suspects."

"And, to think I was worried about you," she says.

"I did enjoy it. You are like a wild animal backed into the corner when you're angry. She looked so shocked when you told her to sit down and shut up. It was amazing." I giggle as I replay it in my mind.

"Next new car, I'm getting an ejection seat put in." Rachelle says, nodding towards the back.

I settle into the seat and soon highway hypnosis kicks in and I drift off to sleep. I wake sometime later to feel Rachelle nudging me. "We made it!"

Though I lived in Richmond for many years, the sight of the bright lights of Atlantic City were no less awe inspiring than my first glimpse of New York City. There were flashing billboards and signs for casinos and shows on the boardwalk. I take a deep breath and remember the words that Dorothy said when she first landed in Oz. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

I roll down my window and look at the people who were walking down the street. The wardrobes are varied, from women in mini skirts to fur coats, and men in custom suits and others in jeans and T-shirts. I draw in a breath of salted air. It's different here, the sea air is laced with diesel and expensive colognes. The sounds of the city drown out the sounds of the sea. I sit back and roll my window up. It's a paradise lost.

Rachelle turns towards me, her finger poised over the button for the divider. "We got her here. We owe her nothing. Got it?"

"I got it. I'm certainly not gonna let her share our room, if that's what you're thinking."

Rachelle nods her approval of my confession.

"Has Rebekah texted you yet?" I ask.

Rachelle looks at her phone and shakes her head. "No. That's a good thing though. I'd hate to have to turn right around and go get her."

"She's gonna be fine. Maria seemed like a nice lady. You trusted her enough to make the arrangements."

"I know. She'll be fine. I just miss her. There I said it. I miss the sweet girl." She stamps her foot and presses her lips together. I look away giving her time to collect herself.

Rachelle lets the window down and calls back to Jane. "We're here. You might want to start making arrangements to get home at the end of the week. Just some friendly advice."

I pull my backpack out of the trunk and sling it over my shoulder. Jane looks around and when she realizes no one is coming to taxi her luggage into the hotel for her, she pulls out her bags.

A young man, dreads pulled up into a messy pony-tail nods at us as he strolls by. "Looking good," he says and winks.

I glance at Jane who immediately sticks her antique rack out for show. I can't take it. Remember when I said I don't forgive and forget? Well, I forgot to add, I like to get even. I square up my shoulders and flash her a confident smile. "Sorry, Janie. He was talking to me."

And, with that, I saunter into the hotel like a boss.