Chapter 44

November 25 - December 2, 2000

Antelope Valley

They worked hard the next week at getting the winter de-rigging as far along as they could, and Michelle was out there with them, working hard. They'd already packed the Mustang on Thursday after work, and even had their snowboards strapped to the roof for a quick getaway. About noon, Al came out to the barn and said, "You kids have been banging it out pretty good, why don't you get out of here for a few days?"

They didn't need a second invitation; they were gone in minutes. Light was fading when they hit Las Vegas; since neither Crystal nor Scooter had been there, they got a cheap motel room and hit the town. Scooter invested ten bucks in slot machines, and figured that was more than enough; they wandered around some, checking out some of the fantastic sights, and took in a couple shows. They slept in a little on Saturday, then got up, did a little more sightseeing, then hit the road for Lake Tahoe.

About an hour out of Las Vegas, they came over a hill and saw a strange sight: a fairly large building, with a tower about like an oil derrick sitting in front of it. On top was a red rotating light; as they drew closer, they could see the logo and the name: "Redlite Ranch Bordello."

"That must be the place, huh?" Michelle said.

"I'd say the odds are pretty good, considering," Scooter wisecracked. "That continental breakfast didn't set too well with me. Want to stop in and have a decent breakfast?"

"Stop in?" Michelle frowned. "You mean..."

"Yeah," Scooter teased, and told her about Jennlynn saying that visitors were welcome to drop in for breakfast or lunch during slow periods.

"I, um, well, I dunno," Michelle temporized.

"I don't believe it," Crystal smirked. "Here's the girl who can take aboard enough alcohol to cook meals for a whole trip, dance on a table in a string bikini and then nail a backflip to the floor, and she's scared to stop in for a cup of coffee, and maybe bacon and eggs."

"Right," Scooter said. "Who not only runs Crystal right down the center, but once ran back up and swam it in her life jacket and a string bikini."

"That's different," Michelle protested. "I mean, I thought about working there or someplace like that a couple of times, just to think it through, not that I intended to do it."

"Hey," Crystal perked up as they got closer. "Jennlynn must be here! At least, that's her Learjet, I think."

"Right," Scooter smiled. "N590SH, that's Skyhook, the plane she flew us to Spearfish Lake in. Let's drop in and say 'hi'."

"Yeah," Crystal nodded. "I've always kind of wondered what that place is like ever since I've known her."

"You guys can if you want," Michelle said dubiously. "I think I better stay in the car."

"Stay in the car if you want," Scooter said. "We don't mind. We'll preserve your honor. Every time the story comes up around a campfire, and that'll be every trip, we'll make sure to mention you chickened out."

"Scooter, you wouldn't..." she stopped for a second, and sighed. "Yeah, I guess you would. Christ, I hope my folks don't find out."

"Michelle Rawson, Wild Woman of the Grand Canyon," Scooter shook her head. "Do you know how many stories about you are floating around? How many are true? How many have they heard? How much do they believe of it?"

"Yeah, but there's a lot of stuff they don't know," she protested.

"You've got the perfect reason, and the perfect excuse," Scooter persisted. "And if they ask, we can tell them the absolute truth."

"Or, if you prefer," Crystal laughed. "We could tell them you were checking it out as a possible winter job."

"You guys are going to get me killed," she sighed as she braked to turn into the nearly empty parking lot in front of the building. "Just fucking dead. If I get thrown out of the house can I go roomies with you?"

"Sure," Scooter said. "That's assuming you don't take a winter job here instead." She let out a sigh and continued. "Of course, that's sort of how I understand Jennlynn got into this business. Her parents threw her out of the house and she wound up doing this. But you have to admit she's done pretty well for herself."

Michelle shut off the engine and they got out of the car. "Oh, Christ, I'm scared," she said. "I've never been this scared in a rapids."

"Nothing to be scared of," Scooter said, trying to keep up a good front and cover up the fact that she was a little bit concerned herself. This had started as a tease and turned into a dare.

The building was surrounded by a high brick and wrought-iron fence -- decorative, but also pretty solid, and that didn't make them any less nervous. In years of running rafts, Scooter had learned that it was all right to be nervous but better to not pass it on to customers, and she was drawing on that training as they walked over to a decorative gate. There was an obvious bell button, along with a sign: "RING BELL - PUSH GATE - HAVE FUN." Taking a deep breath and trying to cover it up, Scooter pushed the button, once, then again.

A woman's voice replied from a hidden loudspeaker. "May I help you ladies?"

"Yeah, we're here for breakfast," Scooter replied. "Jennlynn told us to drop by if we ever got in the area, and we saw her plane's here."

There was a "snap" as the gate unlocked. "Well, come on in," the voice said. "Jennlynn's here, but I don't think she's up yet, she partied pretty late last night."

Taking another deep breath, Scooter pushed the gate open and led the way up an Astro-Turf sidewalk to an ornate front door. Before they got to the door, it opened, and a slender, medium-height gray-haired woman in a tasteful, conservative dress stepped into the doorway. "Welcome to the Redlite Ranch," she said. "I'm Shirley Hoffman, the house manager."

"Are you one of the Hoffmans who have the ranch?" Scooter asked. "Jennlynn told us about it at Thanksgiving."

"Oh!" Shirley brightened as she stepped back to let them inside. "You're the people she spent Thanksgiving with? The raft guides? From the stories she's passed along I don't know how I'd ever have the guts to do what you do."

"I think that works both ways," Crystal said as Shirley led the way toward the dining room. "I don't know how I'd have the guts to do what she does."

"It's what you're used to, I suppose," Shirley shrugged. "I got over it a long time ago; it's how I've spent my life." She turned to a tall young man in a white shirt and bartender's apron and said, "Danny, these ladies are here for breakfast. Watch out for them. They're certifiably crazy; they run rafts down the Grand Canyon for a living."