"I'm afraid to ask," I said, leaning my helmeted head against his back.
"They've located Brand. The Eagle's president," he said over his shoulder. He didn't sound too thrilled by the news.
"What's that got to do with you trading yourself?"
"The guy called the strip joint as soon as he heard what's been happening. Viper's been MIA since a few days ago."
"So you're trying to lure him out."
His hands clenched into fists. "We. Bill demanded that you come along. Brand wants to speak with you, out there on neutral territory. "
"Good! Maybe I’ll lure that bastard to us, too. Anything that'll bring that snake to you guys so someone can put a bullet in him. I'll send him the fucking invitation myself." I realized I was digging my fingers into his shoulders and relaxed my grip. "This trade. You won't actually go with him, will you?"
"We're making this up as we go, babe. We'll wait and see. For now, we ride."
He revved his engine, but I pounded on his shoulder. "My truck. More cover. More discreet."
He laughed. "I'm a biker, honey. I'd sooner show up to a gunfight with rocks."
"Then I'll follow you. I want my truck, Theo." I need to be able to run for it if you can't. I won’t be left stranded. I won’t let them take me again.
He must have thought it, too, or something similar. "Okay. I don't like it. But okay."
Theo checked my beat-up old pickup truck for explosives before letting me anywhere near it.
And then we drove. I was secretly thrilled that he was bringing me along instead of making me stay home no matter what Bill said. If I was living one minute at a time, then I had a whole lot of minutes of a road trip to live in first.
As I pulled out onto the highway behind him, I thought I might have made a mistake. Being alone scared me. But with the sun on my skin, the wind blowing through my windows, the open road and my view of Theo’s back - my brain quieted.
The gun tucked into the back of my jeans added an extra sense of security, too.
I rummaged through the glove compartment where I stored most of my favorite cassettes. The truck was old, and they sounded pretty awful after years and years of use. But they belonged to my father before me. Dealing with flipping the tape, holding down the fast-forward button, using a pencil to turn and fix loose ribbons - it was all part of the ritual.
“Blowing into it isn’t going to help, you’re just getting the dust further in there.” He wore his denim jacket and his sunglasses. The truck still had that new car smell. We were moving again - we were always moving. Suitcases and bags piled beneath a tarp bounced in the bed in the back. “The ribbon is loose. Look at it, it’s just sagging out. Got a pencil?”
I handed him one from my schoolbag. Steering with his knees, he jammed it in one of the cassettes holes and turned it. The bulge disappeared. “Driving like that’s dangerous.”
He returned the tape to me and put his hands back on the wheel. “Driving without music is dangerous, too.”
I played the same tape - Iggy Pop sang through the speakers. My head was clear; I was one with the road. The only future I had to think about right then was the miles right in front of me. Cross one. Cross another. Repeat. Maybe it’s time to move on. Drift around the country again. Start over again.
Theo stopped us just before sunset. He waved at me to get my attention and turned off the highway. I followed him into the parking lot of the tiniest diner I’d ever seen. Built exclusively for truck drivers, stepping inside was like stepping back in time. A waitress in a striped dress directed us into a booth, complete with tall menus and a tabletop jukebox. The old kind that flipped through pages of tracks like a book and operated on quarters. I hit the arrows to turn the pages while Theo ordered us coffee.
I could sense his smile before I even looked up. “There you are,” he said.
“I’m in the road zone,” I said. I ran a hand through my hair. “Got a quarter?”
We ate burgers and drank coffee in contented silence. I think he was afraid to break whatever spell had come over me. It wasn’t a spell at all - it was a reprieve from one. A cleansing of a curse, at least temporarily.
“’Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.’”
I smirked. “Quit quoting Kerouac, Dad.” I was in a precocious know-it-all phase. We were only taking a short weekend trip. As I grew a little older, he made an effort to keep me in the same school for as long as either of us could stand it.
“I’m glad you’re reading my books.”
“I ran out of my own.” I put my bare feet up on the dashboard.”Where are we going, anyway?”