The Open Road: A Second Chance Romance

by Quinn Loftis

  Charity waited several moments before logging into her computer. She listened intently until she heard Samantha’s voice a few cubicles down began to take customer phone calls. Then Charity glanced around to ensure no one was watching her monitor, and she pulled up Jason O’Neal’s video channel. She punched the direct message button and began typing.

  Dear Jason,

  My name is Charity Blackwell. My friends and I have been watching your videos on the internet. First, let me say, my sincere condolences for your loss. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. Second, I noticed from your last video that you will soon be in Las Vegas. I am going to be married soon myself, and my maid of honor is throwing me a bachelorette party in Las Vegas. I am curious when you think you might be passing through that city and whether it might coincidentally be the same weekend we are scheduled to be there. I only ask because my maid of honor has been going through a tough time lately, but your videos seem to have really helped lift her spirits. I know it’s a longshot, but it would be great if she were able to meet you while we are there for my party. It wouldn’t be weird—we aren’t stalkers or anything—but it would mean a lot to her. I hope this message finds you well. Godspeed on your adventure across the country.

  Yours truly,

  Charity

  P.S. My maid of honor’s name is Samantha. My other cool friend, Jessica, would be with us too.

  Charity took a deep breath, reread the message, and hit send. She didn’t feel the least bit remorseful about lying to Jason. She was fighting a high-stakes battle against a ruthless enemy, and the soul of her best friend was at stake. Charity would be damned if she was going to lose Samantha to Derek again. She would go anywhere and do anything to keep that from happening a second time. Regardless of how many times Samantha assured Charity she wouldn’t go back to Derek, Charity knew Samantha wasn’t strong enough to resist. The girl had Stockholm syndrome in the worst way, and Charity was determined to break Derek’s twisted hold on her best friend.

  “Okay, Jason O’Neal,” Charity said to herself. “The ball’s in your court now. Let’s see if you’re really as good as you make yourself out to be.” She closed out the browser and clicked the button on her phone, signaling she was ready to begin taking calls.

  Sam and Jessica made their way to their own cubicles to face a morning of answering phone calls from policy holders with countless questions and concerns. Surprisingly, the morning passed quickly. Sam had just hung up with a man who needed to change his home address when Jessica’s head popped up over the edge of her cubicle.

  “Want to do lunch?” she asked.

  Sam started, coming off her seat a few inches. “How about a little warning next time?”

  “Sorry,” said Jessica, but the smirk on her face suggested she was anything but.

  “Where’s Charity?” Sam asked.

  “In meetings all day, remember? Just you and me today.”

  “I’ve got my sandwich,” said Sam apologetically.

  “Forget it,” countered Jessica. “It will keep until tomorrow, if the lunch bandit hasn’t already taken it.”

  “I don’t know. Money’s kinda tight.”

  “I’m buying,” said Jessica. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay, I guess I can’t say no to a free lunch. What’s going on?”

  “We have something very important to discuss—Charity’s wedding.”

  “Alright then,” said Sam, brightening. She grabbed her purse and hopped out of her seat. “Let’s roll.”

  As they walked down the center aisle of cubicles, they passed Charity’s workstation. Sam saw Charity munching on a granola bar at her desk and playing on her computer.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” asked Sam. “I thought you were in meetings all morning.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Charity, “I am. They just took a fifteen-minute break. I gotta be back in there in a few.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes. “Don’t they usually provide lunch during the noon meetings?”

  Charity looked at the granola bar in her hand. “Ah yeah, they do, but I saw them wheeling it in earlier. It looked gross. Tuna wraps or something. I thought I better have a snack just in case. Don’t want to be trapped in there, hangry, with nothing good to eat for who knows how long.”

  Samantha nodded. “Gotcha. Well, have a good meeting.”

  “We are off to the deli,” said Jessica smiling.

  “Don’t rub it in,” groaned Charity at their backs as they walked away.

  Samantha didn’t even notice Jessica turn back and give Charity a quick thumb’s up. And she didn’t see Charity return the gesture.

  Sam and Jessica took their orders from the counter and found an empty booth.

  “Did you really just order a turkey and avocado sandwich?” Jessica asked. “The same thing you bring yourself every day?”

  “Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Sam responded. Jessica just rolled her eyes and tucked in to her own Southwest chicken wrap. After a few bites, Samantha spoke up again. “So, about the wedding? What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Actually,” Jessica responded, “I didn’t want to talk about the wedding so much as the bachelorette party.”

  “Oh,” Sam’s eyes grew wide. “I hadn’t even thought of the bachelorette party. Do you have some ideas? Maybe back to Club Sprocket? Or a stripper? Do you think we should get a stripper? Charity would have a blast with a stripper.”

  “Um, I do have an idea, but you might not like it, and I don’t want it to be weird.”

  Samantha’s brow furrowed. “Weird, why would it be weird?”

  “Charity has told me several times how much she’d love to go to Las Vegas. I think it would be cool if we could take her there for a weekend trip.”

  Sam dropped her sandwich back onto its plate. “Yeah, that’d be great, but I couldn’t afford that. You know I’m flat broke.”

  “I know, so here’s the weird part. I want you to let me pay for it.”

  “C’mon, Jessica, get serious. I could never let you do that.”

  “No, hear me out,” Jessica said. “My sister has a timeshare in one of the big hotel casinos. I’ve already talked to her. She’s not using it this year. She said I can have it free of charge.” Samantha raised her eyebrows. “And … here’s the best part … my dad has a ton of frequent flyer miles built up. He’s told me before I can have them whenever I want to fly somewhere. I’m sure there’d be enough for tickets for all three of us. So, boom, there’s the flight paid for. All we’d have to come up with is food and entertainment.”

  “I couldn’t afford those either,” argued Sam.

  “Yes, you can. Everything is cheap out there. They make it cheap so that people will come and gamble all their money away. Since we won’t be gambling, we won’t have to worry about that. I bet we can do the whole weekend for a couple hundred bucks. I’ll pay your way.”

  “No. No way. I cannot let you pay for me. Sure, it’d be a blast. Yes, Charity deserves it, but there’s just no way.”

  “Listen,” Jessica said as she reached over and grabbed Samantha’s hand. “I know it’s weird and I know you don’t want to accept a handout. But that’s not what this is. Think of it more like one girlfriend sticking up for another. I know you need this just as much as Charity does. I want to take my girls to Vegas, and that’s what I’m going to do, and I’m not going to take no for an answer. If you don’t go, you will always regret it. I’m not trying to be rude, and I’m not trying to overstep my bounds here, but you need to come, not just for Charity but for your own sake, especially with that loser back in the picture.”

  “He has nothing to do with this,” countered Sam. “I’ve got to work, I’ve got—”

  “I’ve already talked to Brenda and Tran. They both said you could have a couple days off.”

  Samantha growled. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “Just thought of it this morning,” said Jessica mischiev
ously.

  “Uh-huh, then how have you already talked to Tran?”

  “I called him,” she replied.

  “You don’t have Tran’s number.”

  Jessica tilted her head. “No, but I do happen to know where he works … duh.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Samantha dimly.

  “And he was not happy to hear from me this morning. He yelled at me and said the drive-thru window was backed up out to the street. I told him that if he didn’t let you off for a couple of days, I would keep calling him, and I wouldn’t leave him alone until he did. And if that didn’t work, I’d come in there and hold him down and cover him with slobbery, wet black girl kisses.” Jessica shrugged. “That did the trick. He said you could have off whenever you wanted.”

  Samantha sighed. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m only drinking water and eating free pretzels. I’m not having you waste a bunch of money on me.”

  “Waste? It won’t be a waste. I consider it an investment.”

  “How’s that?” asked Sam.

  “You should have seen yourself the other night,” replied Jessica. “After the tequila shots, you stopped everyone who passed by, asked them their name, and then started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of your lungs. Then you began reciting Shakespeare to our late-night snacks. You quoted Romeo and Juliet to the sliders, I believe.”

  “I don’t exactly remember … any of that.”

  “You are absolutely hilarious when you’re drunk. I consider every dollar spent on you an entertainment dollar well spent. Better than a comedy club.”

  “Great,” said Sam, drawing out the word.

  Just then, Jessica’s phone chirped. “Oh, look,” she said, her face beaming as she picked up her phone. “Speaking of tragic plays. Another upload from the travelling Romeo.” She turned her phone toward Samantha, who saw Jason O’Neal’s smiling face on the screen.

  “Hello, everyone,” said Jason. His face took up most of the screen, but Samantha recognized the inside cab of his RV in the background. “I’m here in Albuquerque, NM, and it’s about lunchtime and I’m about to do something cool … I hope. Yesterday, you guys chose Albuquerque over El Paso by only a few votes. I think the final total was like six hundred fifty votes to four hundred and something, which puts the grand total of viewers to over a thousand and that’s super cool. I cannot believe over a thousand people are going on this journey with me. I’m amazed. Thank you all.

  “Now, let me tell you what’s going on today. I left OKC last night and drove until about midnight when I hit Amarillo. I slept at a truck stop there and had breakfast this morning at the truck stop diner. Great food. It may have clogged a few arteries, but it was totally worth it. I met a sweet old waitress named Margaret, who I gave Bethany’s second lilac to. So that puts me down to forty-eight. Then I drove the rest of way to Albuquerque this morning and now…”—he turned the camera around so that it pointed out the front window—“I’m in front of a recycling center/ landfill place.” The screen showed a large parking lot in front of a gigantic white brick building that was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. A gate stood closed beside a small white guard shack containing reflective windows. Behind the brick building rose a huge mound of earth that stretched off into the distance. “Something really cool is about to happen—I hope—which I didn’t even think of when I first put the two cities up for a vote. Had I remembered this, I wouldn’t even have done a vote. I would have just come straight on to Albuquerque.

  “What’s cool about Albuquerque, you ask? Well, I bet some of you have already guessed. Not long ago, an award-winning TV show was filmed here about a garbage man turned serial killer who murdered evil people that lived on his route. At night he would come in and bury their bodies in the landfill or run their bodies through the recycling process and turn them into plastic or something. Bethany loved that show and that”—Jason’s arm was seen pointing at the house—“is the landfill where much of the show was filmed. I bet a lot of you recognize it. I’m going to go see if they will let me take a tour of the place.”

  Jason kept the camera rolling as he hopped out of the RV and approached the guard shack. When he got within twenty feet of the little building, a mountain in a gray uniform came barreling out of the shack.

  “Stop right there,” the man bellowed. “Lower the camera. Turn the phone off right now.”

  “Whoa. Whoa,” responded Jason. The view on the video slipped down a little, as if Jason had lowered the phone an inch or two, but it kept rolling and the menacing security guard could clearly be seen bearing down on Jason. “Calm down, man. I just want to take a tour. No big deal.”

  “I know exactly what you want, you punk,” the guard responded. His uniform sported a badge on the left breast pocket, but he didn’t carry any weapons, not that he would have needed them. The man looked like he could crush a bowling ball between his thumb and forefinger. “I get so damn sick of you damn fanboys showing up all the damn time wanting to take a damn tour. This is a place of business not a damn movie studio. Now get your ass back in that damn RV and get the hell out of here!”

  “Dude, chill,” said Jason. And the camera rose as he held up his hands. The guard’s glowering face showed prominently on the screen. “I’m sorry, man. My wife just passed. She was a fan of the show. No biggie. I’ll get out.”

  The guard stared at Jason for several tense moments. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “Your wife died?” he finally said, his voice a husky growl.

  “Yeah,” said Jason. “A car wreck. I’m just trying to honor her memory, and I wanted to check this place out. That’s it.”

  The guard let out a heavy sigh. After a few moments, the large man nodded. “Okay, but no recording. I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I’ll show you some stuff. Then you gotta clear out.”

  “Thanks,” Jason said before the screen went blank. In a moment, another video came on and Jason was back in his RV. It was clear he had edited this onto the previous recording. His face was front and center.

  “Wow, so that was crazy,” he said. “That guard’s name was Reggie. He was actually a pretty cool guy once he calmed down. He took me through and showed me several of the places where they filmed the show. They’ve got some huge machines in there. I dropped Bethany’s flower into the paper recycling machine, so it might get to live on after today. Eventually, it will be a sticky note or something. Ah, it’ll probably just come back as toilet paper knowing my luck. But, whatever, it was still cool.

  “I’m at a campsite here in Albuquerque about to plot out my next steps.” There was a rustling of paper as Jason spread his map out over the small dining room table in the RV. I think I’m going to go from here to Phoenix.” He traced a line slightly southwest across the map. “Then I’ll go to LA. From there, I’ll catch a flight to Hawaii. When I get back, I’ll drive from LA to Las Vegas, which isn’t far at all. And then I’ll figure out where I want to go from there.

  “So, here’s what I want to know from you guys, America. What do I need to do in Phoenix and LA? Bethany and I have no real connection to either place that I can think of, so we are just going to be sightseeing, like regular tourists. I know there are probably some people watching from those cities, so hit me up in the comments. Until tomorrow, I’ll see you on the open road.” The screen froze, and Samantha looked back up at Jessica.

  “Wow, that was intense,” said Sam. “I was kind of scared that guard was going to pummel him there for a second.”

  “And what would you care, Miss Samantha,” responded Jessica. “Why does it matter to you if such a scam artist like Jason O’Neal gets his butt kicked?”

  “Hey, just because I don’t believe he’s legit doesn’t mean I want him to get beaten up.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Jessica, “but for a second there I thought I heard a note of real sympathy in that voice of yours. Maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep dow
n in the bottom of that cold marble heart of yours, you think Jason actually is as good a guy as he makes himself out to be.”

  “Believe me,” said Samantha, “I’ve got as much sympathy for that guy as I do for the office lunch bandit.”

  Just as they were standing to leave, Samantha froze at the sound of her name.

  “Sam, how nice to see you somewhere other than at the coffee shop.”

  Jessica gave her a puzzled look as Sam slowly turned around to find Henry Hyena standing a few feet from their table. He was wearing a grey suit, no tie, and tennis shoes. Samantha couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen him in a suit before. Then again, she hadn’t ever really paid attention to what he was wearing because she was too busy wondering if he was truly stalking her or if he was simply infatuated. That was until his second sight statement convinced her it was the former.

  “Um, hello, Henry,” she said trying not to sound irritated. “It’s a surprise to see you.”

  “I’m sure it is for you, but I knew, of course, we’d run into each other today,” he replied, watching her expectantly.

  Samantha didn’t really know what he was waiting for. Was she supposed to gush over the fact that he somehow used his so-called psychic power to find her?

  “Who are you, exactly?” Jessica stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips as she stared Henry down.

  Henry didn’t look intimidated in the least. Then again, Samantha figured it was hard to intimidate crazy people because they were, well, crazy.

  “I’m Henry,” he said, as if his identity was obvious and Jessica was silly for not already knowing it.

  “Wait,” Jessica held up a hand, “Are you the Henry who calls to see if Samantha is at work and then sits in the coffee shop to watch her?”

  “Yes, I am that Henry,” he said. “Samantha and I are going to be together.”

  Jessica’s brow rose as she looked at Sam and then back to Henry. “Uh-huh, sure you are. We’ve got to get back to work now. You have a nice day, and a nice life.” Jessica started to tug Sam away in the opposite direction of Henry.