“Well, he must have called tonight,” his mom said when he got home. “You were gone longer than usual.”
“He did.”
“And?”
She was on the couch, and he sank into their threadbare armchair. “He found a job in Iowa City, and an apartment, and . . .”
“And all you have to do is get there?”
“Yes. But that’s easier said than done.” But even as he said it, an idea came to him.
The truck stop.
It made his stomach do terrible, twisting things, but it was an option he hadn’t considered.
The truck stop was only about thirty miles away. A long walk, for sure, but he could do it in a day. And once he got there, he could find a ride to Rawlins. It might mean hitchhiking, or begging. It might mean . . .
It might mean doing other things.
Even if he made it to Rawlins, he barely had enough for the bus ticket, let alone food along the way. He needed the money, and the truck stop provided a scary yet very real possibility. His mom had done it, from time to time. He could do it too, if he had to.
Maybe.
He thought about it, his heart heavy with dread.
Handjobs wouldn’t be so bad, but did men ever pay for those? Blowjobs seemed more likely. He’d only ever done that for two people in his life. Giving one to a stranger would be scary, but probably only the first few times.
And if they wanted more?
He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, trying to imagine it. It probably hurt the first time. Just the thought was enough to turn his stomach. But the potential pain wasn’t the worst part. The worst part would be the risk. He and Nate were both safe as long as they only fooled around with each other, but if he did what he was considering, he’d be opening himself up to all kinds of horrible possibilities. He could insist on condoms, but even those weren’t foolproof, and anything he ended up with—AIDS or herpes or who knew what else—would be passed on to Nate.
He’d be playing Russian roulette with both their lives in exchange for . . . what? A few dollars? How much did one charge for things like that anyway?
His mom watched TV while Cody went back and forth in his head for nearly an hour about the wisdom of his plan. Part of him believed he might be able to find a truck driver heading east who wouldn’t mind driving him the few miles from the truck stop to Rawlins with nothing asked in return. But the more realistic part of him knew it might be a lot more complicated than that.
He couldn’t quite decide if he was that desperate yet or not.
He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of tires on the gravel as a car passed under the train tracks and into the Hole.
Not just any car, either. As the car braked to a stop outside their trailer, Cody’s heart burst into speed.
That was Nate’s Mustang. He was sure of it.
Some stupid part of him lit up, wishing it was Nate, but knowing it wasn’t. Still, he rushed to the front door and opened it to find Nate’s dad looking back at him, his hand raised and ready to knock.
Not dressed as a cop, though. He was wearing regular clothes.
Cody was uncomfortably aware of the cluttered trailer behind him, reeking of cigarette smoke, and of his ratty jeans and rattier shirt, and his messy hair. He tried to smooth it down.
Nate’s dad gave him a nervous smile, and despite his bushy mustache, he looked so much like Nate when he smiled that Cody almost found himself smiling back.
“Can I come in?” Mr. Bradford asked.
Cody looked behind himself at the dirty dishes and laundry and his mom, who was watching them with a scowl, obviously expecting the worst. “How ’bout if I come out instead?”
“Fair enough.”
Cody followed him down the rickety steps and over to the Mustang. It was a warm evening, even with the sun beginning to set. Nate’s dad leaned back against the driver’s door and crossed his arms as he studied Cody. Cody waited, while the wind whistled across the plain and gusted between the crumbling trailers of the Hole.
Finally, Nate’s dad sighed and dropped his arms. “I guess we’ve never quite met. Not on civil terms, at any rate.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bruce.”
Cody blinked, hoping he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. “Cody,” he said, shaking Bruce’s hand. “But you know that already.”
Bruce let him go and returned to leaning against the Mustang. “Are you going to Iowa City to be with Nate?”
“I want to.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can, I guess.”
“Nate said you might need a ride to Rawlins.”
Nate had said that? Nate had talked to his father? Not only that, he’d sent his father to give Cody a ride? “Uh . . . yeah. To the bus station. That’s the closest one, other than Rock Springs, but the ticket’s a bit less from Rawlins since it’s closer to Iowa.”