Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,39

I dated this loser motocross fanatic. He’d been convinced that if he dragged me out to the middle of desert nowhere and sat me in his pickup truck while he and his buddies rode their bikes around the dunes, I’d grow to love the barren wasteland. After three torturous outings, I decided dust was a bad look for me and ended it.

We passed dilapidated trailers, sun-bleached shacks, gas stations with one rusty pump, and wooden roadside stands where desert entrepreneurs displayed Native American knickknacks, hoping for some lost tourist to take pity and whip out their wallet.

But as we got deeper into the desert, the signs of humanity slipped away and were replaced by an almost creepy barrenness. A vast landscape of scrubby trees, wilted grasses, and rocky hillsides. The road’s pavement began to disappear and soon we were riding on a completely dirt road. The bike’s tires kicked up dust and sand, generously coating me in grime. The things I did for this job!

After an hour of this, Jamie thankfully pulled over to the side of the road and killed his bike engine.

“Can you grab the map out of my saddlebags?”

I reached back and grabbed it, handing it to him. He studied it for a moment. “According to this, the dig site is down this trail,” he said, pointing to a dirt footpath off the side of the road. “I can’t get my bike down there. We’re going to have to walk.”

I stared down the trail and gulped. I hadn’t realized we’d be doing part of the journey by foot, away from the safety of our getaway bike. I looked down at my feet. Good thing I’d decided to wear sensible hiking boots. Still, I wasn’t going to be able to outrun a drug dealer’s bullet, should one come whizzing at me at some point.

“Okay.” I agreed hesitantly as I slid off the bike, careful not to burn myself on the hot metal sides. Didn’t want Jamie to think I was some wimpy girlie-girl. I could do this.

He grabbed the hidden camera from the saddlebags. We’d set it in a backpack, creating a hole in the front pocket for the lens to peek through. You’d never be able to tell there was a camera inside.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” I answered, though suddenly I realized my hands were shaking and my heart beating wildly. The trip was about to get a lot more adventurous. Was I ready? Could I do this?

I took a deep breath and willed my hands to stop shaking.

Jamie studied me. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

I masked my concern with a smile. No need for him to know what a wimp I was. After all, Diane Dickson reported live from Iraq, didn’t she? I could surely brave the San Diego county desert. If anyone approached us, we’d simply tell them we were hikers, out enjoying a beautiful desert day. No one would ever guess our true mission.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

We started down the trail and into the desert. According to Jamie’s map, we had about a forty-minute hike to the dig site. Luckily he’d brought a bunch of water bottles. That and a fancy high-tech GPS mapping device so we wouldn’t get lost. The man was a Boy Scout with his preparedness.

The sun beat down on the dusty landscape as we followed the rocky trail. Unlike the stereotypical sand deserts such as the Sahara, San Diego deserts featured rocky cliffs and scrubby trees. A harsh landscape where only the strong survived. It was beautiful, in its own savage way. Peaceful. No modern technology to spoil it.

Jamie’s cell phone rang. Of course.

“Hello?” he said, after flipping open the receiver. “Hello?” He glanced at the phone’s screen and then put it back to his ear. “Can you hear me now?” he asked the person on the other end of the line, mimicking the Verizon commercial.

After a few more “hellos,” he gave up and flipped the phone closed. “Jennifer,” he informed me. “But I could barely hear her. No cell towers in the desert, I guess.” He shoved the phone into his back pocket.

“Do you think it was important?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. Probably some kind of catering crisis. There’ve been a lot of those lately.”

I laughed, though inside I felt a bit like dying. It was so hard to be reminded of his upcoming nuptials. Very soon, this wonderful man would be officially and legally off the market. I had to quash this ridiculous crush