At the Stars(2)

I’ll never be helpless again.

He points up ahead to where my dead car sits with its hood up. “Well, first I thought I saw a broken-down car and decided to check it out. Then I saw some crazy-ass chick with a death wish playing chicken with an eighteen-wheeler.”

He’s standing there with dark hair plastered to his forehead and a white T-shirt clinging to his body. In the little bit of light his truck’s headlights provide, I can see the judgment all over his face. Rivulets of rain run over the hard line of his lips and down the sharp edge of his jaw. This bitch is gonzo, that look says.

In spite of his contempt, his scowling face is an attractive one. It’s a realization that throws me. I don’t often think about men that way. I tell myself it’s not safe to even look, especially not with a stranger. Heaven forbid they think I’m interested. I’m sure my mom would have reminded me to keep my eyes to myself. She’s not here though, and this guy hasn’t done a thing to me so far. Except yell and try to save my life.

“I’m not— I told you, I was going to move.” I try to act big by pulling myself up to my full and oh-so-average height of five-six and crossing my arms over my chest. Like he’s got some nerve insinuating I’m totally out of my tree. I’m not actually crazy. He wouldn’t understand, and I’m not about to explain myself to a stranger in the rain.

“You think that makes it okay? What if that truck had swerved the same way you ran? What if you’d tripped? Even when you have a plan, shit goes wrong. You’d have been road kill.”

Some of my hot air leaks out, because he’s right and I don’t have a good counter-argument. What I did was reckless, it’s the middle of the night, and I wasn’t thinking. The car my mother bought me died on the side of the road, right in the middle of a road trip where I was supposed to be finding myself. Not so long after my mother herself passed away. I had a moment of insanity.

At the moment, I’d been feeling like the universe had something to tell me. The message sounded a lot like “Nyah, nyah, sucks to be you.” I can’t explain any of this to my angry rescuer, though. I can’t expect a rational person to understand.

Since this guy seems determined to pick a fight or whatever, I decide to get him to go away as fast as I can. “Listen, you’re right. I freaked out because it’s late and my car died. I went a little over the edge. Now, I’m exhausted and I need to find a taxi and a hotel. Thanks for helping, but you can go. I swear I’m sane and sober and not a danger to myself or others.”

I smile at him, brighter and broader than I thought I was able. I haven’t smiled much at all in years. Not since the attack and definitely not since Mom died. I smile now because I want this guy to believe me, to buy the story that I won’t hurt myself in any way. Smiles always help sell things, at least that’s what my manager at Big Mug Root Beer and Burgers always said.

I guess I suck at selling my own sanity as much as I sucked at selling Big Mug Mega Burgers.

He ambles across the narrow road, peering under my car’s raised hood. He shakes his head. “No way you’re gonna get a cab out here at this hour. Now, unless you can tell me you’ve got a ride coming, I’m not leaving you here on your own.”



Jake

Used to be, I could see Davidson Banes whether I was awake or asleep. Bouncing on the balls of his feet with a cheese-eating grin while we sparred, and then falling to the mat that last time after I slugged him. These days, it’s mostly—mostly—only when I close my eyes that I see his lifeless body at my feet. Mostly.

Watching this girl though, who’s now sitting in my truck beside me, trying to face off with an oncoming semi? I could see it all happening before I got to her. In my mind she was already down in the road, flattened under those tires. Lights out in an instant, like Dave.

I couldn’t stop Davidson from going down. His girl, Maria, looked at me like I was a monster so I couldn’t even offer any comfort. Knowing how every problem I try to fix turns to shit, I should probably stay away from this girl, too. Except only a complete asshole leaves a young woman alone on the road at night, and maybe if I stop her from going down like I couldn’t stop Davidson...

Maybe it makes up for something. Am I completely fucked in the head for wanting that to be true?

Meanwhile, I’ve got a drowned kitten on the seat next to me, looking like she’d rather be getting declawed. That makes two of us, doll.

It took forever to convince her just to get in the truck. I guess it’s good, being cautious and everything, but between getting in a vehicle with me and staying out there alone all night? I wasn’t leaving her in the dark by a fucking exit ramp.