Love Me Crazy

by M. N. Forgy

  Holding both of his cheeks I press my lips to his, knowing this little bit of information about his mom is endearing. My tits pressed up against his, the cold water makes my nipples bud, he leans down slipping one into his hot mouth. I hiss, running my fingers through the back of his hair.

  “I love it when you do that,” I moan. Watching him suck and nibble my nipple.

  He rubs the head of his cock in between my thighs. I want to have sex with him, I do. But we have no condoms.

  “We can’t,” I mutter, rolling my neck so he can kiss me.

  “Mmm, I want to feel you,” he confesses.

  Pushing my legs farther back, I press my pussy onto his stomach, and away from his hungry cock.

  “You know, all we had was big fancy pools with cabanas,” I try and take his mind off other things. “My mom hated the sun because it made her age, so she never came out.”

  “My dad would get so mad when Mom would haul me around the lake, he called me a pussy and a momma’s boy.” He frowns.

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he shrugs. I look away, knowing the subject of his father is a little sore now that he’s dead. Suddenly Huey is swimming circles around us, and I grab him, placing him between me and Warner.

  “I don’t think he likes the lake water either.” I pet him.

  “He loves it,” Warner disagrees. Warner lets me go, plunging under water.

  Swimming farther into the water a stick appears in my way, pushing it with my hand it moves. It’s a snake! Screaming, I swim backward, the snake coming right at me. Huey now on the bank, barking. Warner’s head pops up near shore and snaps my way when he hears me scream. Quickly he swims my way and grabs the snake behind the head without thinking about it.

  My mouth gapes open, holy shit. He just grabbed a snake with his bare hands! He tosses it away from us and grabs my hand ushering me toward the shore.

  “If there’s one, there’s more!” he informs, and panic runs through my veins like hot water.

  Pushing past him, I make it to the bank first. Huffing and puffing, I grab my dress, putting it on my wet body.

  “How did you know how to grab that snake?” I ask out of breath.

  Warner gives me a sexy side eye.

  “We get snakes a lot, my dad taught me how to grab them. Ya know, before he became a dick.”

  Glancing down, I try and think if my dad taught me anything like that, but the only thing I can think of is how to handle a salad fork. Warner’s life was much more interesting than mine.

  “Maybe you can show me one day,” I suggest.

  He looks at me with surprise, and I cross my arms and cock an eyebrow at him.

  “What?”

  “A girl wanting to round up a snake is… new to me.”

  Flipping my wet hair, I lift my chin. “I’m not as pompous as you might think.”

  Walking straight out of the water, his cock straight as an arrow he grasps me by the neck. “I never thought that of you.” He gives me a chaste kiss, nipping my bottom lip.

  Getting our clothes on, I grab Huey and we get back in the truck and hit the road.

  Miles of cracked pavement pass by, and hours pass by. Huey is asleep in the seat beside me, his hair curly from the lake water.

  My stomach cramps again, and I feel sick to my stomach. Maybe I’m hungry? My tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth and I want to vomit.

  I turn the music down and look for a sign for where we are.

  “Where are we?” I finally ask.

  “Kansas,” Warner replies, his tone conveying he’s tired.

  I look through my pockets to see how much cash I have so we can stop for some food.

  I have nothing. Everything was in my bag that was stolen at that shitty motel.

  “What?” Warner gives me a sideways glance, his dark blue shirt making his ocean eyes pop even more today.

  “You got any cash on you? I’m hungry.” I ask him. At least I think I’m hungry. Lifting his ass off the seat, one hand on the wheel, he digs inside his jeans and pulls out some coins. The backward hat he’s wearing skimming the headliner as he does so.

  “This is what’s left over from buying your coffee this morning.” He places the coins in the middle seat.

  “Shit,” I mutter, looking at two quarters and a nickel.

  “Not to be a bummer.” He gives me another sideways glance, and I know he’s about to say something worse than my being hungry and broke. “But, we’re almost out of gas too,” he informs.

  Banging my head against the back of the seat, doom creeps itself into my chest lacing around my chest like barbwire. What are we going to do? We have no money and no gas. I don’t want to go back home, but I don’t want to be bumming on the corner for change either. I look down at Huey, I could put up a cardboard sign and have him by my side, we’d surely make some cash with his cute little puppy face.

  The truck suddenly veers to the right; taking an exit.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We stole before, we can get some food and gas surely,” Warner says confidently. Food, I may be able to swing, but gas? How the hell is that going to work?

  “How are we going to get gas?”

  “We can siphon it,” he shrugs. Nibbling on my nail, I think about it. It might work, but it’s gotta be on an older car because they have things to prevent stealing gas nowadays in vehicles.

  Pulling up to the gas station, I get butterflies instantly. It’s older looking, the white and red paint faded from the sun and there are no other vehicles in the parking lot so there goes our plan to steal gas.

  “Okay, well let’s go get some food and maybe some cars will pull up in the meantime,” Warner says.

  Nodding, I point to the engine. “Keep it running, it’s too hot for Huey and what if we need to make a quick getaway?”

  Climbing out of the truck, we both meet around the front. The butterflies in my stomach make me anxious and I instantly begin to sweat. I’m so nervous about getting caught, but I’m so hungry I don’t see another option at this point. Maybe I should jack some Pepto?

  Warner cups both hands around his face and peeks through the glass door. “He looks distracted reading a magazine.”

  “A magazine?” I question.

  “Yeah, looks like Toys R Us or something.” Warner gives me a look, and I frown. What the hell is an old guy doing looking at a kids toy magazine?

  “Okay, you distract the clerk and I’ll get some food for us,” Warner instructs.

  I tug the top of my dress down and frill the bottom up just enough for an innocent amount of skin around my thighs to show. This should do the trick of distraction.

  “Fuck, River, I said distract him not give him a hard-on.”

  I flip my hair, rolling my eyes at his intense sense of drama and push the door open. He said to distract, and that’s what I’m doing.

  A chime announces my entrance at the door, the smell of burnt coffee and hot dogs the first thing I smell. The older man jumps from my entrance and puts his reading material in his back pocket, fisting the mop handle that he was using to mop before he decided to take a break. His eyes stare through me like an arrow and I have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat to stay focused on what I’m doing. Sighing heavily, he sets the mop back into the yellow bucket and begins to trail back to the counter. He’s taller than Warner and looks to be in his fifties with his bald head and gray beard surrounding his thin lips.

  “Excuse me, do you have iced coffee?” I begin my task of distraction. The man’s brows furrow angrily, his eyes falling straight to my cleavage as he turns back around.

  “Coffee?” Wrinkles form all over his face and I begin to feel a bit intimidated. He reminds of the grumpy janitor guy at school who yells to himself and slams stuff around in his cleaning closet.

  “No, do you have iced coffee, maybe with some flavoring?” The man gives me an off look just before glancing over my shoulder.

  “We g
ot ice and we got coffee, sweetheart, you ain’t in New York,” he sneers, and anger surfaces in my bloodstream. I’m so sick of everyone assuming they know me.

  A rack falls over behind me and the clerk and I both look over my shoulder. Warner stands like a deer in the headlights with chips in his hands and a sandwich sticking out of the top of his shirt. My jaw tightens knowing he’s been caught.

  “You little fucker!” The clerk pushes me out of the way, nearly knocking me into the mop bucket.

  The man pulls out a chrome looking gun and aims it at Warner. In this moment I feel regret so hard I want to vomit. I scream, grab the mop and swing it like a bat until it cracks into the clerk’s head. He falls to the ground, taking the mop bucket with him spilling dirty water everywhere.

  Quickly, I drop the mop and cover my mouth with both hands. I’ve never done anything like this before. It was out of instinct to hit him.

  “Oh my God,” I whimper. Warner jogs to me and looks the man over. Blood begins to trickle out of the guy’s head and a cry falls from my mouth. I didn’t hit him that hard, did I? I mean I was scared, maybe my hit was harder than I thought. “Did I kill him?”

  Warner squats down. “I don’t know.” Standing, he hands me the bags of chips and sandwich.

  “Go get some more food.”

  He rushes past me and I can’t help giving him a bewildered look. How can he think about food at a time like this? Noticing my hesitation, he glares at me.

  “Go, we need fucking food!” He points to the racks.

  Growling under my breath, I head toward the aisles to see what’s left. Candy… beef jerky. Ooh, Huey will like those. Reaching for the flavored dry meat, my toes hit something cold and hard, and my eyes fall to the object on the ground. It’s the clerk’s gun, it must have slid under the racks when he fell. Reaching down I pick it up. It’s heavy and cold. I’ve never held a gun before.

  I stick it in my waistband. Who knows what we will run into on the road out there. Satisfied with the amount of food I have in my hands, I head over to where I last saw Warner only to find him over the counter and digging inside the register. My mouth drops. Jumping over the clerk’s body, I slap my hand on the counter to grab Warner’s attention.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “You wanna go back home?” Warner lifts a brow at me as he starts stacking dollar bills. He’s robbing the gas station. I want to tell him to stop, tell him this has gone too far but reality sets in. We need this money if we want to make it to where we’re going. Together.

  After Warner takes some of the cash, we start on our way out. Just as we reach the doors, we see a van pull into the parking lot.

  “Oh my God, it’s Ilsa and her boyfriend,” I mutter, noticing the van right away. They’re going to see the mess and know it was us. What the hell do we do?

  “You little shits!” Sounds from behind us. I fling around and the man stands with his arms bulged out away from his body, his teeth baring and face red, fear ripples up my body like a cold serpent.

  “You and your little cunt think you can come up in here and just take what you want without consequences? Because Mommy and Daddy won’t spank your baby asses?” My teeth grind at his insult, I hate being called a cunt. It’s so degrading.

  “Hey, ease the fuck up, man, and watch the way you talk to my girl!” Warner raises his hand as if it’s a shield to protect us, but nothing can save us right now. We are utterly fucked and this man is either going to kill us or report us to the police. Either way, I can’t allow either of them to take place. Kicking the mop bucket out of anger, he comes right at us, and I stop breathing with fear. Dropping crap in my hands, I grab the gun from my waistband and aim it at him.

  “I’ll show you what a real man does to a fucking thief!” the clerk wails, completely off his fucking rocker.

  His heavy breaths and angry grunts echo in my ears as he charges at us. The gun tight in my sweaty palm, my finger heavy on the smooth trigger, the weapon suddenly jerks in my hand, firing a bullet. Tensing my arms, I try and keep the gun’s recoil from hitting me in the face and drop it to the floor in the process. The clerk stops in his tracks, and his eyes fade of life as blood pours from the little hole in his head the bullet made. He drops to the ground with his face smashing against the tiled floor. That’s when I notice the brain matter all over the Life Savers and gummy bears on the rack behind him.

  My ears ring from the gunshot, and my limbs begin to tremble from the gruesome sight before me, my teeth chatter like I’m cold even though I’m not and my gaze slowly descends to the dead man on the floor, the back of his head looking like raw meat. I stand there in shock and watch blood pool around him.

  Warner picks the gun up off the floor, using his free hand he clasps my hands, his eyes wide. Mine meet his and I force myself to speak. To say something about my actions.

  “I shot him.” Terror laces around each of my words, my eyes filling with warm tears. Why did I do that?

  “Come on!” he breathes heavily. I can’t move though, I’m frozen. “I said fucking come on!” Warner jerks me, and I snap to. Pushing through the double doors, we about knock Cassius and Ilsa over as we run to the truck.

  “Hey!” Ilsa snaps, but I ignore her and climb inside the truck. Warner puts the truck in drive, and we peel out of the parking lot, nearly hitting an SUV pulling in. We race to the highway and speed as fast as we can away from the crime.

  “What the fuck just happened?!” I scream hysterically, the initial shock worn off, I’m completely panicking now. “We need to go to the cops!” I slap Warner in the arm, tears filling my eyes to the brim. “We need to turn ourselves in!” So many thoughts race through my head I can’t say them fast enough. It was a flight or fight moment, and when my finger slid across the soft trigger of the gun my fear took the situation in its own hands. Was it an accident? That is the question that scares me the most. My mind playing tug-o-war with the sentence. I wanted to stop the guy from hurting us, from turning us in, and shooting him seemed like the only option.

  “Shut the fuck up! Let me think for a minute!” Warner hollers back in response, and my face reddens from his tone of voice. I punch him in the arm for being an asshole.

  “Fuck you!”

  He gives me a look, a panicked one and I realize he’s just as scared as I am right now.

  My nostrils flare, and I stare at the rearview mirror as if cops are going to suddenly appear any second.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Warner mutters under his breath, hitting the steering wheel with his rolled up fist. We drive in silence trying to make as much distance as we can between us and the dead body.

  Huey begins to whine from the floorboard, and I realize I forgot all the food we grabbed in the process of everything.

  The truck starts to sputter now convening we’re out of gas. This cannot be happening. Warner pulls over onto the side of the road just as the truck gives up on us. We could only be four miles away from the gas station at best, we need to be farther. Sitting in silence, we huff and puff our nerves into the humid air. We are so fucked, and just keep getting more fucked.

  “If you weren’t hungry,” he mumbles under his breath and my eyes widen, my head snapping in his direction.

  “You’re blaming me?” My voice hoarse and in question. “We were getting food before you went all cowboy and tried to take the cash!” I remind him. Shaking his head, he gets out of the truck, slamming the door behind him.

  Oh hell no, he is not blaming all this on me. Getting out myself, I jerk the door closed and march around the truck to where he is standing.

  “I did it for you!” My fingers tangle in my sweaty hair, my brows narrowed in, I stare at him heatedly. My eyes begin to well with tears, emotion thick in my voice. It occurs to me now more than ever I’d do anything for Warner. My affection for him making me crazy.

  “You mean you picked up a gun and shot someone, that was for me!” He points at himself, obviously being curt.

  “Yes, h
e was going to kill you if it wasn’t for me!” I scream. Warner steps up to me, our feet near touching. “He could have called the cops, and you’re wanted for killing your dad!” I remind him.

  “I didn’t kill my dad!” he roars, pointing at me. “Besides, I never asked you to pick that gun up!” his wary face has me losing my shit. I’m scared, I’m hot, and I’m cold. What the fuck did we just do? I just shot a man, that’s what I did.

  “I thought we might need it, I didn’t mean to kill—” I sob, throwing my face into my hands. I cry, thinking if that man has a family or not. Is he a prick to his wife, or the best husband ever? Will anyone miss him?

  Warner’s arms suddenly wrap around me and I pull him close, my face in his neck while I cry my remorse into his hard body. “Shhhh,” he whispers into my hair, his hand sliding back and forth along my back to soothe me. “I know you were just trying to do the right thing,” he mumbles against my temple.

  “I’m a murderer, you need to take me to the cops, because they’re really going to be chasing us now.” Hearing me say that, I suddenly freeze, my heart racing. I can’t go to prison. I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t want to be away from Warner.

  Warner pushes me a step back, getting fully in my line of sight.

  “No. Hell no, we aren’t going to the cops, we stick to the plan. Colorado.”

  “But—”

  “It was an accident, and turning ourselves in, nobody will believe us after we were stealing shit. We’re not going anywhere but to Colorado. Together! Do you understand me?” He shakes my shoulders, and that simple jerk puts me back into my place. I lift my chin and swallow the guilt stuck in my throat deep down.

  “I got it,” I mutter. Breathing a sturdy breath through my nose, I try and get a hold of myself.

  Turning, he rubs the back of his neck looking around. A perplexed look marring his handsome face. I suddenly feel nauseous, my stomach cramping.

  “We gotta find a new ride. My truck is going to be on every cop’s radar.” Opening the truck door, he pulls down his visor and jerks an old polaroid loose.