by CW Crowe
He remembered that she'd said it would cost him everything. At the time, he thought this was just exaggeration or melodrama, but now he had a vision of Satan, offering him a contract to sell his soul, grinning at the temptation. All he had to do was sign on the dotted line in blood.
He shook his head to clear it. She couldn't be serious about the cost. It was silly to even think of him giving her everything. Still, she was obviously connected and seemed to know things that only government insiders would know. He decided to hear what she had to say. What harm could it do?
***
She led him to a conference room. It was nicely appointed with muted colors and a maple table surrounded by twelve expensive looking ultra-modern chairs. Along the long wall, a series of large video monitors were mounted end to end. There were no windows. She pulled out a chair for him. "Sit," she said, her voice cool and in control.
He did as he was told. She went to a cabinet and got out two glasses and put ice in them. She brought them back along with a bottle of amber colored liquor. The label said "Elijah Craig." It said it was twenty three years old. She poured a couple of ounces in each glass.
Regina got herself seated and pulled a keyboard to her that had been on the table. She crossed her legs and typed. The monitors across from them came to life, one by one.
Jason saw a conference room on the monitors. It looked life sized - like the monitors were now just glass and this other meeting room was right next door. Seated in the center of the conference table was a single man. His grey hair was close cropped over his thin face and he wore round old fashioned looking black glasses. He wore a white shirt with a loosened tie. Behind him, a jacket was hung on the back of his chair. It was hard for Jason to make out, but there were insignia of some type on it. On his conference table, a glass was before him. It had a brown liquid in it.
"Jason McCrae, I'd like to introduce you to General Al Martin. He's a great military man and also a great father. Dad, this is Jason McCrae."
Jason was surprised to see a three star general sitting almost right across from him. He had a check run on Regina's company before coming here and he knew who her father was, but he didn't expect to actually be talking to him.
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. McCrae. It's been almost two years since Regina told me that she thought you were really onto something with this battery technology. I've looked forward to this meeting for quite a while."
Two years? Jason looked at Regina and she smiled at him. Two years ago, he'd been basically working on his own. The few stories written about him in those days generally portrayed him as a "lone crackpot." How could she have known?
He pushed that thought aside. "Ah . . . thanks General Martin, I'm pleased to meet you too."
"I trust Regina has been treating you well? Giving you what you need?"
He wanted to look at her to see how she was reacting, but he was afraid his face would reveal just how well he'd been treated by his daughter. "Everything has been great for me, General."
"Well fine. Regina tells me you are ready to hear about some of our plans, but before that, I'd like to offer a toast."
He picked up his glass. Jason and Regina did too.
The toast was a short one. "To living like men," he said. They all drank to that. Jason had no idea what it meant.
Shopping Trip
The Piece of Shit was not designed for two people. Once Fallon was on, there was only a little bit of the cracked leather seat left - perhaps six inches or so. Dy climbed on easily behind him and put her hands behind her on a tiny ridge at the back of the seat.
"You can't ride that way. You'll fall off. Slide up closer and put your arms around me."
She seemed surprised, "Mister, none of the bikers let their chicks put their arms around them. They make us hold on to the back. Ax is so fat I couldn't reach around him anyway."
"Listen Dy, I'm no biker like them. I just ride this piece of shit because I can't afford a car. Now slide up and hold on tight. If you feel yourself slipping or something, yell."
"I will, Mister." She slid forward and put her arms around his waist. He could feel her boobs on his back. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday. Her already short skirt hiked up as she slid forward until it was almost to the very top of her thighs. He knew she didn't have underwear, but he didn't think that would be obvious with her pressed against him.
The two of them made quite a sight, but it was still before sunup, so he shrugged and tried to start the bike. It did well today - it coughed to life on only the fifth try. Fallon looked up at God, who was staring intently.
He drove carefully up the path to the highway and turned left, towards town. The sky ahead was starting to lighten indicating the sun would probably come up again today.
The road was mostly deserted at this time of the morning, but in the distance he could just make out that he was going to meet another bike. He couldn’t tell for sure, but the odds were good that it was a Harley. Fallon prayed that it wasn't Ax, released from the hospital after his dick surgery.
Their single bright headlights made it impossible for them to identify each other. Just before they passed in the still dark morning, the Harley rider put his left hand down in salute and Fallon returned it.
***
He couldn't take her to the car dealership, so he stopped at a fast food place. He gave her a twenty dollar bill. He always kept two twenties in the Airstream for emergencies.
"Go inside and get something to eat. It'll take me around twenty minutes to get back with the car. Bring me a coffee, will you?" He didn't normally eat breakfast.
She looked at the money and then studied the brightly lit building as if she was trying to understand what his words meant. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, "What can I get, Mister?" She seemed scared all of sudden.
"Anything you want. You look like you could use a few good meals."
"Yeah. Ax spent most of his money on beer and gambling. He wasn't a real good provider."
He expected her to go on inside the building, but she didn't move. He could tell something was wrong.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
His hand was on the throttle, ready to twist it and ride away. She put hers on top of his.
"Mister, you're coming back, right? You're not going to just leave me here, are you?"
It had been a long time since Fallon had felt anything other than pain or shame. He purposely tried to feel nothing at all when it came to other people - it helped when they ripped him off or betrayed him or fired him.
Now, in spite of himself, he felt an emotion he thought had been permanently removed from his personal repertoire. He felt pity.
"I'll be back, Dy. I told you I would and I will." Her eyes were large as they stared at him, gauging his sincerity. He added, "I promise."
She squeezed his hand and nodded as she leaned towards him. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then turned and went inside.
As he drove away, he could feel the spot where she'd kissed him. It felt warm.
***
When he returned, she was standing outside at the exact same spot he'd dropped her off. She smiled and waved when she saw him, like he might not remember what a girl in a miniskirt with red boots looked like.
She got in and handed him his coffee. He was careful to line the drink holder with a napkin before he placed the cup in it. Eating and drinking in the cars was also strictly prohibited. Fallon thought it was his day to break rules.
"Here's your change, Mister." She gave him a receipt along with a little more than nine dollars. What did this girl eat that cost so much? He looked at the receipt. She'd had two breakfast sandwiches, a large orange juice, a pastry and a fruit cup. The change she gave him matched the receipt to the penny. He'd been gone almost exactly twenty minutes.
He felt himself smile at the mental picture of such a skinny girl wolfing down her food. "Feel better?" he asked.
"Oh yes. I'm feeling so much better. It was good - not as
good as that fish last night. That was the best meal I ever had."
She became quiet as he maneuvered the Bimmer over the surface streets and into the entrance lane for the Pennsylvania Turnpike. He put the EZ Pass transponder on the dash and drove through the "No Tickets" lane at the speed limit of five miles an hour. Getting a ticket was almost as bad as eating in the car.
Or having passengers. He glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed. He heard her snore gently.
***
The brand new 3 Series looked out of place in the parking lot for the Goodwill store. Fallon gave her the twenty nine dollars he had left.
She looked at the green bills. "Mister, is this all you have?" It wasn't said in a way of complaining that it was so little - instead it was in awe that he would give her everything he had.
He nodded, "It's all I have with me. Now go in there and get some clothes. Hopefully, they'll have some things you can wear. Try and get something a little less, you know, flashy."
"I wish you'd go with me and tell me what to get."
"I can't have you in the car when I drop it off and it's after 9:30 now. Besides, I know nothing about women's clothes. Just get something that you like - and see if they have underwear."
For the first time ever, he heard her laugh. "Going commando is kind of fun, especially on a bike. It's real airy." She gave him another quick kiss and left.
***
When he returned to pick her up a half hour later, she was nowhere in sight. Fallon went into the store, but she wasn't there either. He was surprised to realize he was feeling alarmed.
But when he walked out of the store, there she was standing by the car, carrying two bags.
He was shocked at the transformation. Gone was the biker chick with her miniskirt and tube top and red Doc Martens. Now she was wearing a simple sleeveless summer dress. It fit her well. She wore flip flops. Her honey colored hair was pulled back off her face.
She smiled at him, "Well?" she said as she spun around, model like. Her hips swayed as she did.
Fallon felt something stir in him, something that had been in hibernation for a long, long time. He swallowed. "You look real good," is what came out.
They got in the car. "And look!" she said, pulling up the dress. She was wearing panties. "They had them brand new in the package. Only four bucks for three pair! The stuff in there is so cheap; I got a few more things and spent all your money. I hope you don't mind."
He tore his eyes away from her crotch. "I . . . I don't mind, Dy. I can stop at a bank and . . ."
She reached over and put something on the center console. It was three twenty dollar bills.
Fallon didn't understand. He'd only started the day with two twenties. He looked at her in confusion.
"There was a trucker out back making a delivery. Most of them are pretty horny. I got it from him."
Fallon searched the dictionary in his mind to find the meaning for the words he'd just heard.
"You mean you . . ."
She could tell he was shocked. She spoke up in her own defense. "It was just a blow job. I didn't screw him or anything. And this is all he gave me, I swear. I'm not holding anything back. You can search me if you want."
***
Fallon put the car in drive and took off, spinning the tires and leaving black marks on the Goodwill parking lot.
He took the entrance to north I-83 and, after the local traffic had cleared, engaged the cruise control. He looked over at her. A single tear ran down her cheek.
"I thought you knew."
He didn't want to ask, but he had to. "Knew what?"
"That I was a whore. At least I used to be before Ax won me. They gambled for me and for once he won. I lost."
The Story of Dymond
Neither of them spoke until they were through the toll booth at the entrance to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Fallon took the sweeping left turn under the sign that said, "West, Pittsburgh."
Dymond was the first to break the silence. Her voice was sad. "Mister, just drop me off at one of the rest stops - there's one kind of in the middle of the mountains. I'll hook up with a trucker from there."
Fallon felt alarm at her plan, quickly followed by surprise. He was surprised that he wasn't feeling relief. Here was his chance to let this girl get back to her life and for him to get back to his. Still, the alarm was there and the relief wasn't.
"You can't just go up to some stranger in the middle of nowhere and ask for a ride," he said.
"I won't be just asking. I'll pay for it. I'm a whore, remember?"
Fallon didn't think he'd ever known a real, working whore. Patti told him that she'd screwed the district supervisor to make her manager of their store, but he never really believed it. Patti was all talk, but she wouldn't actually do such a thing. At least he thought she wouldn't.
"But . . . it's dangerous. You could hook up with some bad guy."
She had been staring out the side window, but now she turned to him. Fallon wondered if she had bought eye makeup, they looked large on her thin face. "You sound like you're worried. Don't be. Girls . . . like me, we know the signs - what to look for. When I first saw you and you were beating up on Ax, I thought you were one of the bad ones. That's why I was so watchful at your home. It didn't take long for me to see you weren't one of those men that will hurt a girl, stiff her or even beat her. No, I could tell you were okay."
"If you're so careful and are such a good judge of men, how'd you end up with Ax?" Fallon saw himself kicking the fat bastard. Momentarily, he wondered if he'd really been hurt - even died from a heart attack or something. It was his day to be surprised - he realized he hoped Ax was dead.
She smiled at him using all her face. She had perfect teeth and a wide mouth. He hadn't realized it because she hadn't really smiled like this since he met her. "That's a long story," she said. "Maybe I'll tell you some time if I ever see you again."
***
Traffic had been moving nicely, but brake lights appeared ahead of them. Fallon slowed and then stopped in a long double line of cars that disappeared around a curve about a quarter mile ahead of them.
It took almost ten minutes to inch around the curve so they could see ahead. The jam was caused by a sign that said, "Single Lane Ahead One Mile, Merge Right." As soon as he saw the sign, Fallon checked his mirror and put on his signal to get in the right lane. Dozens of other drivers did the same thing. The result was the backup.
As cars succeeded in getting into the right lane, the left lane became empty. A few drivers took advantage of the open lane to zoom by the cars that were inching along. Fallon hated the selfish assholes that did that. They would rocket to the head of the line and break in when they got there.
There was an eighteen wheeler a hundred yards or so in front of Fallon's Bimmer. He must have had enough of the assholes too, because he moved his truck left so that part of it was still in the right lane, but he was blocking the left one.
A large black SUV flew by Fallon, but it had to brake when it reached the truck. The SUV tried to slip around the left side of the truck, but the trucker moved farther left. Fallon could see the tail lights of the SUV flash on and off as the ass signaled the trucker to let him by. A large arm came of the truck cab and gave the SUV driver the finger.
By now, two other asses had been caught in the trap in the left lane. One of them put on his signal to move right, but no one would let him in. In front of them, car windows opened and middle fingers came out in force. Fallon pushed the button to lower his window and he could hear a woman yelling "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"
The driver of the SUV must have been distracted, because he bumped into the rear of the eighteen wheeler. The two cars behind him didn't have room and they hit each other too. It was just a fender bender, no big deal.
Except that the truck stopped and two people emerged from it carrying something that looked like sticks. The people behind the truck got out and started fighting with each other. Two women rolled on the ground, pulli
ng each other’s hair. The car in front of Fallon pulled left and stopped - its driver jumping out to join the fray almost before the car stopped. Fallon pulled to the right and passed.
Once past the eighteen wheeler traffic picked up. Fallon had been amazed to see a riot break out right in front of him in the middle of nowhere.
Dy turned around and continued to look as they moved away from the scene. "People are sure in a bad mood," she said, shaking her head in wonder.
***
They were lucky to get by the big truck and continue westbound. Fallon's rear view mirror showed only a car or two behind him. Beyond them, the road was empty. The ruckus back there must have stopped traffic altogether.
He set the cruise control at sixty five and watched as seven police vehicles sped by, lights flashing, in the east bound lanes. Dy stared at them intently.
Fallon checked Humpty Dumpty so see how he was reacting to Fallon's good luck. Again, he wasn't around. The shelf up in heaven was empty.
***
Fallon was broke. He walked towards the ATM machine at the turnpike rest stop. These were generally nice facilities with gas pumps, clean restrooms and several fast food and coffee places inside. They were popular stops because you didn't have to exit the turnpike and go through toll booths - they were built right beside the roadway. They were owned by the state and therefore charged quite a bit more than normal for their hamburgers and lattes and fill-ups. The traffic delay had caused them to reach Dy's suggested rest stop well after 1 p.m. He'd had no breakfast, so he was hungry.
"I'll get us lunch, Mister. You've done enough for me. You just relax." He started to call after her and tell her that he'd get the cash out of the machine, but half the time his ATM card wouldn't read. He'd asked the bank for a new one a month ago, but none showed up at his PO Box. He decided to just sit and wait and let her buy lunch. She had more money than him.
It took almost ten minutes, but she finally returned with a tray containing two double cheeseburgers, two large fries and two large strawberry milkshakes. Fallon knew that one of those twenties was certainly gone - the government made sure the turnpike users were overcharged at every possible opportunity.
