Simon snorted. He’d been to the off-grid community where my family lived, acres of scrubby high desert sporting a complex of quasi-subterranean homes based on Michael Reynolds’s Earthships. From a distance, one might think the walls were made from stucco or cob, but the homeowner-builders would happily inform a visitor that the insides were made from recycled tires, bottles, and cans. As far as I knew, I’d been born into the only community of Greek eco-hippies in the world, though I wasn’t sure if I, born and raised in America, truly counted as all that Greek. Thanks to Yaiyai and my college studies, I could read and speak the language, and I knew how to make some wicked good Loukoumades, but that was about it.
I climbed out so I could check the license plate for myself. With a car like that, I’d expect a vanity message, but it was simply the usual string of numbers and letters. I was on my way to inspect the interior when a door clanked. Someone had walked out of the little restroom building. I stared. It was someone I did know.
The tall black woman heading toward our campsite wore loose flowing golds and blacks in a vaguely African style, though she’d grown up in the mountains of New Mexico, three houses up from mine. Her tight black curls were cropped close to her head, but there was nothing boyish about her; she had attractive features with high cheekbones and a perfectly symmetrical face. Though I knew she was my age, her exotic clothing, or maybe the tilt of her chin, made her seem like someone who had traveled the world. She walked with a limp that favored her right leg.
“Who is that?” Simon whispered. He straightened his shirt, scraped his fingers through his hair, and stood as tall as he could-which still left him four or five inches shorter than our visitor.
I almost snorted and told him he didn’t have a chance, but I hadn’t seen the girl-woman, now-in nearly ten years, not in person anyway, and I had no idea what kinds of guys she dated. Maybe she liked geeks.
“Hey, Artemis,” I said when she drew even with the picnic table. “You’re about the last person I expected to see today.” She’d been “Temi” when we were kids, but, again, I had no idea what her preferences were now.
She smiled, though it seemed to hold more sadness than joy. “I imagine that’s true.”
“Your car?” I pointed to the Jag.
“Yes.”
“It’s a bit conspicuous here. I’m not sure Prescott has a five-star anything, but you could try the Hassayampa Inn. It’s historically significant, if nothing else. Oh, and they have a ghost, too, I hear. Though really the Vendome is more the place for that, I understand. You can ask for Abby’s room.”
Simon elbowed me, either because I wasn’t introducing him or because I was trying to send Artemis away. Or both.
“Ah,” she said. “I’m actually looking to stretch my finances until… I find suitable employment.”
“You can’t, uhm…” I glanced at her right leg-her clothing hid it, but from her gait and what I’d heard on the news, I thought she might wear a brace now. “Teach tennis?”
She grimaced. “That’s not really my world now.”
“Oh.”
This earned me another elbowing. A more confident fellow would have stepped forward and introduced himself, but that adjective didn’t describe Simon, at least not around pretty women. I tried not to read too much into the fact that he’d never stuttered or been at a loss for words in my presence.
Artemis looked at Simon, eyebrows arching in polite inquiry.
“This is my friend Simon Jimmicum,” I said. “He’s from Washington but came down here for school and stuck around. Simon, this is Artemis Sideris.” I glanced at him to see if he’d recognize the name. He hadn’t shown any interest in sports in the years I’d known him, but she’d been a big deal for a while. His eyes didn’t widen in recognition though. “We were neighbors when we were kids.”
“You’re Greek?” Simon gawked.
Not his smoothest opening line, but at least he hadn’t stuttered.
“I was adopted,” Artemis explained. “And you can call me Temi.”
She gave me a curious look as if to ask why I hadn’t used the nickname. I didn’t give her anything back. I’d gotten over the abrupt end of our friendship a long time ago, but seeing her here made me feel like an awkward kid all over again.
“I went home for a while,” Temi said. “After… things. It was uncomfortable. Did you go home? After you finished school?”
“Not for long.” I couldn’t believe she’d come all the way out here to chat about our childhood homes. What could she possibly want? “Mom and Yaiyai started inviting appropriate bachelors over to dinner and making pointed comments about how adorable my sister’s new baby is.”
“I experienced… something of the sort,” she said. “I couldn’t stay there. But I’m not sure what else I can do. I never got my diploma, or even a G.E.D. I’m looking for a job though. Somewhere far from home. I thought perhaps…” She cleared her throat and gazed toward a squirrel cavorting through the branches of a tree a few campsites away. “Your mother mentioned your business. I thought you might hire me.”
“What?” I blurted at the same time as Simon said, “Yes.”
I glared at him, then told Temi, “I don’t know what my father said, but we’re not that profitable yet. We aren’t able to pay ourselves salaries and we’re just getting by.”
“But you have freedom.” Temi sounded wistful. “You go wherever you want, when you want, and it sounds… romantic.”
“Geez, Temi, you’ve been all over the world for tennis, haven’t you? I can’t imagine what seems appealing about driving around the Southwest in a clunky thirty-year-old van with AC that only works intermittently and when it does, you wish it didn’t, because there’s a burned meat smell that comes out of the vents.”
“Hey,” Simon said, “don’t talk about Zelda like that.”
I shushed him. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a glare that would have been a lot noisier if he weren’t inhibited by Temi’s presence.
“I’ve seen much of the world, yes,” Temi said, “but I was always so busy training that I didn’t have time to enjoy it. I always thought there’d be time later, but…” She finished with a shrug.
“Well, uhm, I’m sorry you came all the way out here,” I said, “but we can’t afford to hire anyone. This isn’t the best time either. We’ve run into some…” Trouble? I wasn’t sure if we were in trouble exactly, but the punctured motorcycle tires and the fact that the deputies had promised to “be in touch soon” left me wondering if we should abandon Prescott before-
A hand clasped onto my arm. Simon lifted a give-us-a-moment-please finger toward Temi, then hauled me to the far side of the picnic table. The brush didn’t quite hide the view of cars cruising down the road toward town, their noise insuring our conversation would be private.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“We’re not hiring her, Simon. We barely covered the fee for the campground. Full-time employees are slightly more expensive.”
“We can find a way.”
“Says the man who stole the pepper shaker from Denny’s last night.”
Simon pointed at my nose. “That was a revenge theft, and you know it. They charged me for the onion ring upgrade, but I didn’t get onion rings.”
“A normal person would have simply pointed this out to the server.”
“If you don’t know I’m not normal by now, you haven’t been paying much attention over the last four years.”
I conceded this with a wriggle of my fingers, but said, “We can’t hire her, and this wouldn’t be a good time to expand the business anyway, what with the possibility of vengeful motorcycle riders coming after us.”
“What if we didn’t hire her? What if we made her a business partner? She could share profits.”
“You barely know her, and you want to share our meager profits? I know she’s pretty-”