One More For The Road

by Delilah Blake

  I dump my trash into the nearest can and try hard to ignore the two of them, how her hand rakes across his forearm, how his laughter rings out at whatever story or joke she might be telling, how my mind can’t shake the image of two of them tangled in hotel sheets, her legs wrapped around him as he drives into her with a passion I’d stupidly tried to claim for myself.

  The happy couple heads inside the gas station, walking past without so much as a glance in my direction. I watch through the glass doors as they head for the drink coolers and snacks, taking my mind off the idea of them together by twisting my sore muscles back and forth until I’m folded into a human pretzel.

  “Who’s your flexible friend?” One of the boys with the truck nods in my direction. The slick of grease smeared across his right cheek bounces with a smirk as his tongue runs across his gums.

  Jill flips her brilliant, blonde hair behind her shoulder. “She’s with him.” She lowers her voice to a sharp whisper as she points to Jesse inside the store, his arms laden with bottles of soda and two giant bags of pretzels. Moron. I can still hear every snipped word out of her mouth. “Sandra thinks she has a shot with him, but I don’t know. He didn’t seem all that interested last night.”

  “He queer or something?” the idiot in the back of the pick-up asks, hopping off the tailgate and sidling up to Jill. “How could any man not be interested in you girls?”

  Her pale cheeks flush a pretty pink. “I know, right?” she giggles. “If you ask me, Sandra’s wasting her time with that one.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He seemed pretty depressed about something last night at the bar.” She shrugs her thin, sun-kissed shoulders. “I thought maybe he’d just broken up with someone, but that’s not it.”

  “What’s not it?” The guy spits a dark wad of chewing tobacco at the pavement.

  Jill leans against the truck, stretching her legs out in front of her. She tilts her head in my direction and I quickly tear my gaze away, suddenly finding the toe of my shoe remarkably interesting.

  “I think he has feelings for her,” Jill says around a huff. “Don’t know why. She’s kind of the worst.” The guys in the truck laugh. “And she doesn’t seem the least bit interested in him.”

  I bite back a laugh. If only Jill knew. I shouldn’t be interested in Jesse, not with the baggage I’m lugging around. What I should do is make my way to California alone. What I should do is forget I ever met Jesse. What I should do is forget men altogether, embrace celibacy, change my name, burn my fingerprints, and start a new life as a transient drifter that people whisper about and run from when they see her on the street.

  Then again, I’ve never been good with shouldn’t and should.

  “What do you say to that, Beautiful?”

  I look up to find one of the guys standing directly in front of me. I’d been so consumed with my thoughts I hadn’t heard him approach. I step back and look him over, my spine finding the outer wall of the gas station, trying my hardest not to remember the last time a strange man had me pinned against a brick building. The guy in front of me isn’t nearly as tall as Travis, nor half as stacked. He carries the doughy physique of a frat boy who took the challenge of the freshman fifteen a little too seriously, arms that were probably once toned crossed over the slight paunch of ramen noodles and Jaeger bombs.

  I glare up at him. “What do I say to what?”

  He wipes a hand under the brim of his sweat-soaked baseball cap, tousling blonde strands that curl behind each ear. “You interested?”

  “In what?” I sneer.

  “In that guy you’re with.”

  “No.” Lie.

  “You interested in me?”

  “No.” Not a lie.

  “What about Jake over there?” The idiot points to one of his friends leaning against the fender, a pressed polo shirt stretched across broad shoulders. He tilts his chin back in greeting.

  “Noooooo,” I tell him again, stretching the simple word out so he can’t possibly misinterpret its meaning. “I’m not interested in you, or Jake, or any other bro you might have stuffed in that truck of yours. So, do me a favor and go find a girl who actually appreciates your lame-ass pick-up lines, okay, Chad?”

  “How’d you know my name’s Chad?” he asks, stunned.

  I look him over, the polo shirt tucked into cargo shorts, the backward baseball cap. “How could it not be Chad?”

  He laughs, not realizing the insult. “You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?” he asks, taking another step forward until he’s towers over me, blocking out the sun like a dark cloud. He leans forward, letting his lips linger by my ear. “I wonder what else that mouth is good for.”

  Two meaty fingers tangle in the hem of my shirt.

  I’ve fucking had it.

  I don’t think about what I’m about to do before I actually do it. I don’t consider the repercussions. I don’t second guess my decision. All I can think about how this asshole won’t be as lucky as the one before him, the one I didn’t fight hard enough to get away from, the one who thought he could take something from me I wasn’t willing to give. And my world goes red.

  I thrust my arm out, crashing the heel of my palm into the fleshy underside of his nose. Jill screams and there’s a satisfying snap of impact as I feel the cartilage and bone crack beneath my hand. A jolt of pain shoots up my wrist, but the hurt is well worth the sight of Chad stumbling back in sudden shock and agony, covering his nose with his hands. A roar rips itself from his throat, and I smile as I watch his eyes fill with tears.

  “You bitch!” he shouts at me, wiping at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. His arm falls away to reveal twin rivers of crimson flowing from each nostril. He swipes at his face again, smearing blood across his gaping mouth. “You broke my nose!”

  His friends form a semi-circle at his back, but I hold my ground. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I tell him, pure adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Or next time I’ll aim a little lower than your nose. You got that, Chad?” I sneer his name like a taunt, not caring if it’s petty or childish. If he’s willing to put his hands on a complete stranger, who knows what else he’s capable of. And I’d put good money on the likelihood that I’m the first woman to teach him any sort of lesson on consent and respect.

  Jill screams again as he charges, a bellow of fury building in his chest like an enraged bull. I shift my weight, hoping that breaking two balls is just as easy as breaking a nose when an arm wraps around my waist and I’m lifted clear off the pavement.

  Jesse appears directly in front of me, spinning me until I’m pressed against his back. He sets me behind him, locking his arm around my hips and holding the other out as a blockade between me and the army of frat boys. Sandra rushes out the glass door in the next instant, taking in her screaming friends, the bloody frat boy, and the sheer chaos I’ve created, and dropping her already open bottle of water in shock. It empties itself into a purified lake across the pavement before rolling to a stop by my shoe.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jesse roars, staring Chad down. I can’t see his face, but I know whatever expression he’s wearing must be terrifying. Both of Chad’s friends take a step back at the sight of it.

  Chad throws an accusing finger at me. “That bitch broke my nose!” he shouts, flecks of blood flying off his lips, hanging in the air like pink mist.

  “And why would she do that?” Jesse asks, not lowering his arm.

  “I don’t know, man! She’s fucking crazy!”

  “Probably.” Jesse shrugs as if my current mental state is no big deal. “But that doesn’t mean breaking your nose wasn’t warranted. So, I’m going to ask you again, Chad. What. Did. You. Do?”

  Chad’s mouth hangs open. “How did you know my name’s Chad?” he asks, perpetually confused.

  Jesse scoffs. “Because of course your name is Chad. Now tell me what you did, or I’ll let her break something a bit more valuable this time.”

  “Nothing, I swear!” Chad lies
.

  Jesse crooks his neck to look back at me. “That the truth?” he asks gently.

  I shake my head between his shoulder blades.

  “He touch you?”

  I nod into his t-shirt and he tenses beneath my hands. “A little.”

  “You want me to do something about it?”

  “No.” I shrug. I’ve already broken the guy’s nose. So long as he and his friends leave us alone, I’d call that a lesson learned. “I handled it.”

  I can hear the begrudging smile in his response. “I can see that.”

  He turns back to the group, Chad’s friends lingering at the edges of the fray like foot soldiers anxiously awaiting orders from their commanding officer. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Jesse says, letting his arm finally fall to his side. “You and your buddies are going to get back in your truck and drive away without so much as another word to my friend here, got it? You’re not going to try to explain. You’re not going to try to justify your actions or call her any more unpleasant names. Because if you do,” Jesse’s voice goes cold, “I will fucking bury you under this parking lot.”

  Chad opens his mouth to argue only to be cut short. Jesse takes a single step forward, his hand slipping from my waist. His voice is low, controlled but with a tremor of fury running like broken earth beneath the surface. “I said without another word.” His jaw tics around each syllable. “Don’t test me.”

  His friends are already climbing into the truck by the time Chad closes his lips around whatever uninspired insult he’d planned on lobbing my way. He turns on his heel, throwing his middle finger up over his shoulder in parting.

  I sidle up to Jesse, noting the way the tension leaves the broad planes of his shoulders in waves. We watch as Chad climbs into the passenger seat. The engine roars to life with a cloud of exhaust, and the truck pulls out of the parking lot, merging into traffic and disappearing at the next light.

  Jesse keeps his eyes on the Ford until it’s gone. I glance down, noticing how his fingers remain curled into his palm, knuckles clenched so tight I’m sure they’re moments away from protruding out from under his skin. I reach for his hand, not quite sure what I want the outcome to be, only that it’s obvious he needs my presence as much as I need his.

  He comes to life at my touch, twisting at the waist to look me over. “What an asshole.” He breathes out a laugh.

  I nod in agreement, my cheeks pulling into a smile almost against my will. “Right? I hope he and his friends have fun explaining his new nose to the brothers at Kappa Kappa Fuck-Boy.”

  This time his laughter is unrestrained. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t have to kick his ass.”

  “Looks like you’d already done most of the work for me.”

  “Then why’d you jump in to defend me?” I ask.

  “Moral support.”

  “I see.”

  “And for the record, Frannie,” he says, bending to whisper the wonderful secret into my ear, “I’ve always got your back. Whether you think you need me or not.”

  The scary part is, I think I really do need him. Desperately. In a way I never really needed anyone before. Not even Andrew.

  Andrew. The ever-present elephant in the room. The warning label I have stamped across my forehead. The insurmountable blockade I set up all by myself and then ran when I couldn’t find the means or courage to tear it down.

  Jesse’s face hovers over mine, brow furrowed as he tries to decipher the worry and confusion and, yes, perhaps hope warring for expressive dominance.

  “You are such a bitch!’

  The less than creative insult is lobbed from over by the gas pump, where Jill and Nikki wait wearing matching scowls of annoyance and sexual frustration.

  “That guy was just being nice!” Jill screams from her spot at the taillights. “Why’d you have to run him off like that?” be

  “Nice?” I bite back a laugh. “Are you kidding? He was a total douchebag! I don’t know about you, but I’m not really into a guy putting his hands on me while he tells me all the things he’d like to do to my mouth!”

  “He said what?” Jesse’s fingers form once more into fists. Judging by the storm brewing behind his eyes, Chad should consider himself lucky he left with nothing more serious than a broken nose.

  I wave a hand at him. “It’s not important.”

  “The fuck it isn’t.”

  “There’s nothing to do about it anymore, Jesse. He’s gone. Let’s just forget the whole thing ever happened.

  Nikki moves to stand beside Sandra, who, to her credit, has been surprisingly quiet during all of this. “I get why you wanted to bring him along, Sandy,” Nikki says, flipping her long hair behind her shoulders. “I mean, look at him. But you should have drawn the line when he said he wouldn’t leave his friend behind.”

  I look up at Jesse. “You really said that?”

  He nods in silence.

  “Duh!” Jill screams from across the parking lot. “And we all agreed it was okay because we thought it was going to be another hot guy riding around with us! Not some awful stuck up bitch!”

  She leaves the car and meets her friends on the sidewalk. “Let’s get out of here, Sandra. I’m with Nikki. He’s fun to look at, but you’re wasting your time. He’s not worth the trouble, not when he’s clearly head over he—”

  “Sandra,” Jesse interrupts, stopping Jill cold. Not that it matters. “Thank you for taking us along. I know you didn’t have to. But we can figure our own way from here.”

  Sandra clears her throat, the idea of losing her eye-candy forcing her into the conversation. “I’m not kicking you out of my car, Jesse,” she explains, brushing her fingertips lightly over his arm. “We were having a good time, weren’t we?”

  “Speak for yourself,” I mumble under my breath.

  Her sharp, dark eyes find my face. She keeps them locked on me, even as she continues to talk as if I weren’t present. “We can drive you to California. I’ll even call Frances an Uber to take her to the nearest bus station, if it will make you feel better. I don’t think Nikki and Jill would appreciate her riding with us from here on out but wouldn’t leave her stranded.”

  I roll my eyes. “How very generous of you.”

  “Take the hint, bitch!” Jill snaps her fingers in front of my face. “No one wants you here!”

  “I want her here,” Jesse interrupts, clasping my hand in his. “And if I have to choose between Frances and the three of you, well, there’s no contest on earth that ends in your favor. Now, open the trunk.”

  Jill takes a step back as though the notion of rejection has only just occurred to her. Sandra shakes her head in silent surprise but presses the trunk-lock button on her keys. I wait on the sidewalk as the trio follows Jesse to the car, Nikki climbing into the backseat without a fight, Jill grumbling as she fights with her seatbelt. Jesse shoulders both of our bags and waits for Sandra to close the trunk.

  She lingers before opening the driver’s side door, a breathy question forming on her painted lips. Whatever it is — I can’t hear her through the distance and rush of nearby traffic — forces Jesse to stop and narrow his eye down at her. She offers in return a slow, sly smile, one that would have most men begging for a taste. Instead, Jesse’s gaze finds mine. He doesn’t try to lower his voice or attempt to keep their conversation private. He simply lifts his brow and lets the distance between us fade into nothing.

  “I’ve already got what I need, thanks,” he says in parting, leaving Sandra at his back and finding his way back to me.

  Jill reaches across the console to honk the horn, impatience winning out over friendship, and with a sad shrug of acceptance, Sandra climbs in behind the wheel. The car pulls back onto the road, merging with the nearest exit.

  I wait for Jesse to reach my side before clearing my throat. “I think that went well, don’t you?”

  “I think Chad’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  “Yeah, well I thin
k I’m going to be the subject of a surprising number of of #crazybitch tweets floating around the next few days.”

  He plants himself at the far corner of the sidewalk, bending his knees into a bridge and watching in quiet contemplation as travelers pass through the gas station’s glass doors, the delicate chime of a bell heralding each entrance and exit.

  I sit next to him and take my hair down from its very tangled ponytail, shaking the waves out between my fingers. “What did Sandra say to you before she drove away?” I ask, shattering the silence.

  He bounces his shoulders to his ears. “She just offered me something I had no interest in.”

  “A ride to California?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  I focus on picking a piece of lint off my shorts. “You didn’t have to turn her down for my sake,” I tell him, well aware that despite his day job as my white knight, he and I haven’t been on the best of terms since the motel last night. I wonder if that kiss is as fresh in his mind as it is in mine.

  He folds his arms on top of his knees and rests his cheek in the crook of his elbow. “I didn’t turn her down out of pity for you,” he says, fixing his melted chocolate gaze on me. “I did it because you and I... well, we started this thing together, and I’ll be damned if I finish it without you. And you can be as angry and annoyed with me as you like. But I meant what I said. I’ve always got your back.”

  “I’m not angry with you,” I clarify for him.

  “But you are annoyed?”

  “Give it a few minutes.”

  He chuckles into the bend of his arm, and I watch a single bead of sweat trickle from his temple, down his cheek, down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

  I try to stop myself before I can imagine stripping his shirt over his head and running my hands through streams sweat on his bare chest.