First Love

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “So where you headed?” I asked, trying to break the ice.

  “East.”

  “Oh? What’s east?”

  “It’s not west,” she said without turning away from staring out the window.

  Okay, so that was how it was going to be. I smiled to myself. I always liked a good challenge. And this girl was definitely not like Alicia. I don’t know what I’d been thinking. She might need my help but she’d never admit it.

  We drove for another thirty minutes in silence. The distant mountains grew no closer, the black road shimmered under the afternoon sun and the world seemed to be made up of nothing but course bushes and an occasional dead rattlesnake.

  The only stations on the radio were Spanish or Gospel, neither of which interested me at the moment. I could put on some of my own tunes but I’d probably get a nasty look, so instead, I left it off and we continued on in silence.

  “So, where you headed?” she asked without turning around. I could see her eyes reflected in the window as she watched intently to see what I would say.

  “East,” I said.

  “What’s east?” she asked with a slight smile.

  “My future,” I answered as I stared out the front of the truck. Those two little words hit me as I realized how true they were. I’d left everything behind to find something new, something close to normal.

  The silence returned. I’m sure she was waiting for me to elaborate. I could tell she wanted me to fill in the details but hey, two could play at this game.

  It was another fifteen minutes before I broke the silence. “So, how long have you been on the road? Not long I bet.”

  She stiffened as if I’d asked her about her love life. “I can take care of myself,” she declared.

  I chuckled. “I’m sure you can, that’s not what I asked though,”

  She finally turned away from the side window and glared at me.

  “Listen, let’s forget the whole getting to know each other part. It’s not going to help you get into my pants and I just don’t care enough to know anything about you. You’re going my way and giving me a ride. Let’s leave it at that. If not, you can drop me off here.”

  Sulky and petulant. Not the best of combinations.

  “Hey, I was only trying to pass the time. This is a long, boring road,” I said. “As for getting into your pants. Don’t hold your breath, you’re not my type.”

  Okay I lied a little, hell, I lied a lot.

  “And as for dropping you off,” I continued. “You say the word and I’ll pull over anytime you want. If the coyotes don’t get you the buzzards will.”

  Her brow narrowed in pure scorn as she pulled her backpack up onto the seat between us. She probably had a knife at least. Do not turn your back on this girl or you’ll end up with a piece of steel between your shoulder blades.

  The silence returned. I know she was going over her options and not finding a lot to her liking. Hell both of us were regretting this.

  Why’d I stop? I could have zoned out on this road. Maybe come up with a song or thought about what I was leaving and what I was headed to. Instead, I was wrapped up in tense drama that I hadn’t planned on.

  I knew why I stopped. She looked too much like Alicia. I’d failed her and she’d ended up dead in my friend’s hotel room. A young girl mixed up with the wrong crowd and easy access to drugs. Never a good combination. Some people can’t handle it. Especially when they get hooked up with an asshole like Rodger. I’d seen it coming but I hadn’t stopped it. Hadn’t stepped in when I should have.

  Now I was stopping in the middle of nowhere to help some girl I didn’t know.

  Long legs and a nice rack. It will put a guy into a bad situation every time. I really should just pull over and order her out. She wouldn’t be any worse off than when I found her.

  Of course, I didn’t. My dad would have cursed me and I’d have spent the next week worrying about her.

  “Why don’t you think I’ve been on the road very long?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  I laughed. “Too many things don’t fit. You give off that rich girl vibe. Probably running away from home because daddy wouldn’t buy you a new car.”

  The look of scorn was turned up several degrees. Man, this girl had that whole hate look down pat.

  “Am I right?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  She turned to look out the window and ignored me. I guess she didn’t like my answer.

  “Two days,” I continued. “Three tops.”

  She turned back, her mouth open in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Too many things are wrong.”

  “Like what,” she asked as if she really was curious. Probably worried about not fitting in with the hobo crowd.

  “First it’s the haircut looks new. Probably a fancy salon. It wasn’t hacked off in some Motel Six bathroom. Next is the nails. The polish is fresh, again probably professional. Girls on the road don’t spend a lot of time getting manicures. Most of all is the lack of grime. People who travel the roads for any time pick up a layer of grime. Your skin is too flawless, not even a scratch. I bet you spent last night in a hotel somewhere.”

  She looked at me curiously, obviously readjusting her thinking, then huffed and turned back to staring out the side window.

  “So, two days or three?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer right away but finally said, “Two.”

  I let it rest. She was right, it was probably best if we avoided the whole getting to know each other thing.

  “So it sounds like you have experience of being on the road,” She said after a minute. “How is that possible? You’re what eighteen, nineteen. And how did someone on the road get such a nice truck?”

  Yes, she had been right, getting to know each other was way overrated.

  Sighing to myself I shook my head at the trap I’d walked into. See this is what happens when you ask questions. People have a habit of asking them back.

  “I got the truck by working my butt off for three years. As for being on the road. It doesn’t take long to learn the basics.”

  Again the silence fell between us. It was different now. Still tense but at least we had enough to think about as the scenery outside flashed by at seventy miles an hour.

  “My name’s Michael by the way. Michael Travers. I’ll answer to Mike if you have too, but prefer Michael.”

  She studied me for a moment, obviously trying to decide if she should give me hers. Names have power, I knew that and I think she did too. Giving them out too easily can weaken a person.

  Finally, she nodded her head. “I’m Sasha. Do Not Call me Natasha.”

  I smiled back at her, “Okay Sasha Do not call me Natasha, nice to meet you.”

  The tenseness inside my truck immediately dropped back to normal. Or at least it did until she crossed those long legs of hers.

  .o0o.

  Sasha

  Okay, things could be a lot worse. At least he didn’t seem like a serial killer. Not like that creep from last night. I shuddered remembering.

  That’s what you get for accepting a ride in an ancient Cadillac with an overweight, balding salesman. My creep radar had been pegged when he pulled over but I didn’t have much of a choice. Not if I wanted to get away before they found me.

  It still made my skin crawl every time I thought about it. – Which seemed to be every ten minutes or so - When I refused to give him what he’d wanted he’d pulled over and tried to take it. Pinning me against the door before I could get it open. I could still feel his sweaty hands pawing at my thighs. Bile rose to my throat when I couldn’t get the memories out of my mind.

  Turning away from the window I tried to put it behind me and gave up a silent prayer of thanks for the pepper spray.

  Of course, I’d gotten free only to step into a new hell called the Arizona desert. For the thousandth time, I questioned my sanity. What had I been thinking?

  This guy, Michael, didn’t give off that creep vibe
at least. No, a guy like this didn’t need to force young girls. He probably had them falling at his feet. Sandy brown hair, a strong jaw, wide shoulders and green eyes that didn’t miss much. He had a small scar over his right eye and his nose had been broken sometime in the past. Not a pretty face. More a rough and tough face. The kind of handsome that could make a girl’s heart flutter.

  Maybe I’d be all right for a little bit. At least until he got to where he was going and I hit the road again. Do not relax Sasha I told myself. Just because he doesn’t look like a rapist doesn’t mean he isn’t.

  His arm moved, startling me, making me jump. He saw my weak reaction and shook his head as he reached behind the seat, pulling out a bottle of water he offered it to me.

  I studied him for a moment before taking the bottle without saying a thank you. I finished it in one long pull. The plastic collapsing in on itself. Never had anything tasted so good. Like sweet, clear life. My insides soaked it up like a dry sponge as I put the cap back on the empty bottle.

  Michael laughed and reached behind the seat for another bottle for himself.

  The water had made me feel right again. Less light headed. I needed to be careful in the future. You never know when you’re going to end up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I put the empty bottle into my pack. I’d fill it up somehow.

  Finally able to relax a little, I looked around. The pickup wasn’t new, but not that old either. It had a long bench seat. Not two separate bucket seats. I didn’t even know they made them like this anymore. Clean. Almost spotless. I wondered if he was one of those neat freaks. Always following people around with a spray bottle of cleaner. No, he didn’t look like the type. Neat freaks don’t have a week’s worth of stubble on their chin. Of course, the fact that the stubble made him even hotter was a total plus.

  The air condition had felt so good when I had stepped in from the desert but now it was getting a little cold on my bare legs. I reached out and closed the vent then scooted into the corner to rest my head against the window.

  Okay, short shorts and a tank might not have been the best choice. They were great for getting rides but attracted the wrong kind of attention. Although I had to admit I didn’t really mind the way Michael had looked at me. I’d planned on getting clothes and stuff along the way. But of course, that had failed like everything else.

  You know I really needed to think about getting … …

  Darkness, my head hurt from resting against the window. Where was I. Crap! I’d fallen asleep. Not good Sasha, way not good.

  Jumping, I opened my eyes to a dimly lit truck cab. The blue-green dashboard lights gave Michael a ghostly glow.

  “Evening, Sunshine,” he said with that killer smile of his that put my teeth on edge. How could a guy look that good?

  At some point, we had joined the main highway. My neck hurt and back ached and I felt like my back teeth were going to float away.

  “I need a bathroom,” I said as I brushed the hair out of my eyes. Someone, meaning Michael, had draped a leather jacket over my legs. I pulled it up and snuggled into it for one last moment of peace. A warm smell of leather, sandalwood, and something deeper washed through me. Making me tingle all over.

  Bad Sasha, way bad. Do not get interested in this guy. I pushed it away then tossed it next to him. He could keep his stupid jacket. I didn’t need it.

  “We can stop in a minute. There’s a town just up ahead,” Michael said.

  I didn’t answer, instead concentrating on not squirming, I really needed to go bad. At least it wouldn’t be behind some bush by the side of the road.

  At last, he pulled into a hamburger joint. I grabbed my pack and was out the door and into the restaurant before he had the engine turned off. The place smelled of grease and salt and everything good with the world. My stomach rumbled. It was only as I was coming out of the restroom that I thought about the possibility of him not being there.

  What if he’d had enough of me and left? I hadn’t thought of that. What if he wasn’t there? Well, good riddance then. It was a long way to Pennsylvania, I was going to have lots of rides between here and there. One cute dude taking off and leaving me was not going to make a difference.

  “You hungry?” He asked, coming up behind me. My heart let go for some reason and my shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t taken off. And yes, I was right, he was tall.

  I thought of his question and the twenty-six dollars I had in my pocket. “Um, no, not really.”

  He laughed and shook his head and then turned towards the check-out line.

  “Four double cheeseburgers, two cokes, and two fries. To go please,” he ordered.

  “Are you really going to eat that much?”

  He laughed, “No, I just wanted enough for when you change your mind.”

  What a jerk. I left him there waiting for his order and returned to the truck. The cool night air nipped at my legs. I pulled on a flannel shirt I’d rescued from our Jeanie’s garage. How could any place go from so hot to so cold so quickly?

  I thought of Michael. Deflating, that was what it felt like. This guy could read me like a book and I didn’t have any idea how to change it. What’s worse, I didn’t have any idea what he was thinking about. Except for those times when he was checking me out. Then it was sort of obvious what he was thinking.

  He might be a jerk, but at least he wasn’t a creep. He hadn’t hassled me while I was sleeping. The guy could have pulled off into some empty canyon and dumped me after using me. Instead he covered me with his jacket. It was enough to make a girl reconsider the awfulness of all male type persons.

  Chapter Two

  Michael

  Gas, food, a pretty girl. I was good for another five hundred miles. My back ached and my fingers itched to be playing guitar instead of driving. But hey, this was my idea. Live with it. See the country. I had the time, I had the wheels. Take it and explore a little.

  Then she happened. Watching her sleep for five hours had to have been one of the toughest things ever. I’d finally had to cover those legs just so I could keep my eyes on the road.

  We weren’t on the highway two minutes before she was elbow deep into the bag retrieving fries and a burger. I smiled over at her. I loved being right.

  “Shudup,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  I laughed and concentrated on my own meal. The drive had become pleasant. It seemed like we’d come to some kind of understanding. We’d agreed to share the same space without tearing into each other.

  Reaching over her legs I opened the glove box to retrieve some tunes. She flinched and scooted to the far corner. As skittish as a newborn colt.

  “Hey, don’t worry, I’m just getting some music. No reason to be scared,” I said.

  “I’m not scared of you,” she answered through tight lips.

  “Yeah right,” I said as I slipped the CD into play.

  The music hit me like a hammer. I sat back and let it wash over me, my fingers playing the frets on the steering wheel.

  “Who are they?” she asked after a few minutes her brow creased with a curious frown.

  “A local band. They called themselves Green Onions. At least that was their name when they made this CD.”

  She listened for a moment, her foot tapping time. “They’re not bad. A little rough, but not bad.”

  “You should have heard them live. They killed it.”

  “What’s their name now? You said that was their name when they made this. I assume it has changed since then.”

  I sighed. I shouldn’t have put the music on. “They broke up about a month ago. This is it. A copy of the only CD they’ll ever make.”

  She looked at me curiously. That cute frown locked in place. She decided not to pursue it, instead, she leaned back and enjoyed the ride.

  .o0o.

  It was almost an hour later as we pulled into Kingman that I got the first shiver that something wasn’t right. The same headlights had been behind me for the last ten minutes. No
t a big thing on a desert road but when I changed lanes they changed lanes. When I pulled off the highway they pulled off the highway.

  On the spur of the moment, I turned down a side street and picked up old Route 66. The road of legend. The place to get your kicks, Route 66. The headlights followed me.

  Things didn’t feel right. I looked over at Sasha. My stomach clenched up.

  “Why would someone be following us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Don’t overreact I told myself.

  “What? Who? How do you know?” Sasha demanded as she twisted around in her seat to look out the back.

  “Just a feeling. Why would someone be following you,” I asked again, worried inside that it wasn’t her they were after. A sick thought slid through my mind, maybe that money wasn’t as legit as I pretended. Should I have turned it down? Were the feds after me for what my father had done?

  “Me? Why do you think it’s me?” Sasha said. “Maybe it’s you.” Even in the dim lights from the dashboard I could see her face tighten up. She was frightened. Way more frightened that she should have been. Boy did you step into it this time Michael?

  Sighing to myself I turned and headed back for the main road. The lights turned with me. I didn’t know what I should do. Floor it and try and outrun them. Why would I do that? I didn’t even know who they were. My heart began to pound and my ears began to ring, never a good sign.

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know, really.” She said as she continued to stare out the back.

  Seeing the sign I was looking for I took a quick left then another right to pull into the parking lot of the police station. I hadn’t done anything wrong. At least not officially. The lawyers had promised me that everything was legal. Of course, they didn’t have all the facts.

  I came to a stop. Let’s see what we were dealing with. As we turned to watch a large black BMW slowed down. Two big, beefy men with heavy scowls – never a good combination - stared at us as they crawled by. I got the distinct impression that they were not happy campers.

  I let out a sigh of relief. I’d been sure it was the FBI. Sasha didn’t relax. She’d become as stiff as a wood post.