“I told you—”
“Dammit, boy! I’ll cut your goddamn throat if you don’t let your girlfriend speak.”
Zane looked over at Tucker. “You wanna be my girlfriend?”
Tucker started to shake his head.
“You played a girl three times back in high school theater! You were the only boy in class who could reach a low soprano. Come on. Just pretend to be a girl for this creep. It’ll be fucking hilarious. I can barely keep a straight face whenever I’m talking to him. The guy is nuts.”
From the look on his face, Tucker wasn’t so sure, but he took the microphone and cleared his throat. “Hey there, big boy.” It came out crisp and feminine. He kept one hand on the wheel while speaking. “I heard you talking about your type of woman. I’m blonde. A natural blonde. And I have a huge rack.”
Mystery Man sounded intrigued. “Mmmm, that’s what I like. Your boyfriend don’t sound like a real man. Rodney don’t think so. You need a real man like me, sugar. Now, I’m try’na figure you out in my head … make a picture of you. How big is that rack you be speaking about?”
“Thirty-four … F,” Tucker said.
“That’s good … that’s real good. I bet you like having them fondled. Bet you like having a dick sliding up between them, too. That’s what boobs those size are good for. Most women don’t know it, but it’s true.”
“Yes, mister. I like big dicks. You sound like you have a big dick.”
Zane was laughing so hard that he had to fight to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks. Tucker sounded so convincing! Even though it had been years since high school, he was still able to raise his voice to that feminine level without a single blunder. Hell, if Zane closed his eyes, it really did sound like a girl was sitting in the driver’s seat and speaking to some strange man over the CB.
“Oh, my dick’s about average as they come … gets real hard though. All the girls say they like that about it. Hard like diamond. And I bet a girl like you would get it real hard. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Joyce,” Tucker said. He came up with it on the spot. “Jiggly Joyce, the boys call me, ‘cause my tits and ass are always jiggling. I like to make them jiggle.”
“You like men watching you?”
“Yes, mister. Men watching me gets me hot down south, if you know what I’m meaning.”
There was a pause. “You wet right now, Jiggly Joyce? Is Rodney making you wet?”
“Oh, maybe a little bit.”
“And what if I asked ya to reach down between those sexy legs of yours and play with yourself a little? Would you do that? Don’t know if you’re from around here, Jiggly Joyce, but it’s a long road ahead, and we ain’t got much to do other than chat.”
Tucker released his finger from the button and looked over at Zane. “Goddamn this guy just won’t fucking quit. You think I should just end it here and tell him I’m a guy?”
Zane shook his head. “No fucking way! It’s just getting good. He’s probably fucking jerking off right now to that sweet voice of yours. It’s really good, man. Maybe you should get into the phone sex business.”
Tucker slugged him on the shoulder. “Fuck you, dude. That’s just six years of theater. Keep those sick fantasies to yourself.”
Zane laughed and looked ahead over the hood of Tucker’s Dodge Charger. They were gaining on a tractor-trailer. Fifty-five miles-per-hour felt like a goddamn crawl, and traffic looked to be slowing down even more up ahead. A couple more hours on the road and they’d have to stop for the night. Until then, Mystery Man was available for an all-evening chat.
“Jiggly Joyce,” he said over the CB. “Jiggly Joyce with her jiggling tits, are ya out there somewhere, honey? Jiggly Joyce and her sweet voice.”
Tucker clicked the button. “I’m here, mister. You caught me slipping out of my pants. Ain’t so easy in a moving automobile. I have a feeling you’d love to look at my panties right now.”
“Are they wet?”
“So wet.” Tucker even managed to giggle. “Thinking about you has got me all hot … and thinking about your dick sliding between my tits. I’m pinching one of my nipples right now, mister. Tell me what you’d do to me. Don’t hold back.”
The man laughed. “Well, I got a fine place for you in my rig … right here, next to me in the cabin. Now I’m an all-night trucker. Ain’t no stopping and taking a nap for me. No, Miss Joyce. I have to stay awake from dusk to dawn. And I bet you have some mighty fine lips to keep me awake all night long. Yes ma’am I do.”
Tucker grinned. “So a blowjob, mister? You want me to lean right over and take that dick into your mouth?”
“Well hold on right there Joyce … there’s a sequence to pleasing a man like Rodney. First I figure you stroke me. Real gentle. I haven’t taken my dick out yet, but you’re feeling me up … getting me hard. And then my pants are too tight, and you’re eyeing that bulge growing underneath. Now I gotta keep my eyes on the road, but you’ll reach in and pull it out. Still slow. Get it fully hard. I love when a girl takes her time … enjoys the moment. And after a few minutes of that, I’ll reach over and feel your breasts. In my head, you’re wearing one of those skimpy tops, showing cleavage and all that. I jus’ push my hand underneath and squeeze one.”
“And what about down below? You know my pussy’s gonna be aching by then, mister. Why, I’d want you to stick a finger inside me. No, make it two. I’m really tight down there, but I can still manage two.”
Zane covered his mouth so his laughter wouldn’t be picked up on the radio.
“Yes … I’ll finger you and taste your honey. A girl like you’s gotta have some good honey. God knows I love a girl with a young, ripe pussy. And then once you’re going good … you’ll lean over and suck me off. Real slow again. No sense in going fast. We got the whole night ahead of us.”
Tucker feigned a moan. “I’m fingering myself to the thought of you fucking me. You’d fuck me hard, wouldn’t you? I know you would. You have the voice of a man who would.”
“Now it ain’t real easy, but you can sit on my cock once you’ve gotten it all wet … and Joyce can show me how she jiggles.”
“Oh yes, that’s right.”
The sun was about to go down. Zane hadn’t even realized the time had been passing so quick as of late. Amazing what talking to a stranger over a CB radio would do to the boredom. And he was really into it! What a grade-A creep that guy was. Now, Zane didn’t believe the stranger was responsible for the murder of some Pamela, but he definitely played the part well. If only he knew that Jiggly Joyce was playing him just the same.
“Your boyfriend … does he treat you well, Joyce?”
Tucker shot Zane a look. “Oh, he’s pathetic. The worst boy I’ve ever been with. Doesn’t know how to please a girl if he read the instruction manual. Tiny cock, too. I can’t even feel it when it’s inside me.”
Zane mouthed a playful fuck you.
“That won’t be the way with me, Jiggly Joyce. Now you sound real clear to me, so you can’t be far. Why don’t you stop by mile marker three-six-seven and I’ll come let you into my rig. I’ll treat you well.”
Zane glanced at the shoulder to see a small green sign with 369 zooming past. Then his eyes settled on the tractor-trailer right in front of them. Tucker and him looked at each other simultaneously.
“Can’t be,” Tucker said. “No fucking way. What are the odds?”
Zane turned in the seat. “Dude, we have to get a look at this fucko. You got any cars coming?”
“It’s a construction zone. You’re not supposed to pass. I’ll get in big trouble for that.”
“So what? I haven’t seen one cop since back in Utah. No one’s gonna care.”
The CB radio came to life again. “Jiggly Joyce … you waiting for Rodney? I’m closin’ up on ya.”
This time it was Zane who grabbed the microphone. “Fuck off, creep! I ain’t leaving my girlfriend by the side of the road for you to come pick up. Stop harassing her!” He win
ked at Tucker.
“Now, now … you gotta let the little lady make her own choice. If she wants to be with a real man like Rodney, well that’s her decision. She’s not your slave, boy. And it sounds like she doesn’t think much of you anyway. I’ll be expecting to see her in just a minute or two.”
Tucker spoke next. “Actually, Mr. Big Rig Man, I think we might be behind you.” He smirked at Zane. “Once traffic clears up, I’ll pull up alongside and flash my tits so you know it’s me. What d’ya say?”
“Sounds good, Joyce. I’ll be ready for them. There’s a clearing coming.”
Oh my God, Zane thought. This was it. The creep behind the wheel of his big rig was going to see once and for all that he had been fooled all along. But Tucker made a convincing woman. And the stuff he said! Tucker should’ve done some improv. He was a fucking natural at coming up with stuff on the spot. In his position, Zane would’ve been fumbling over words.
Tucker saw the gap, and the V8 engine roared to life as they shot up alongside the big rig. The trailer was completely blank, and the door on the truck had no logo or company listed on it. But Zane was only interested in what was behind the glass. He rolled down the window, put his hand to the left side of his face to block the sun, and tried to peer inside. The glass was tinted.
“I can’t see a thing,” Zane said. There was a silhouette of a man behind the wheel, but he couldn’t see any features.
The man came over the radio again. “There she is … Jiggly Joyce. Those are some mighty fine tits you have there. You weren’t lyin’ about them neither. I could slide my dick up and down between those beauties. Now, why don’t you pull on ahead and find a place to stop for us. Construction ends in a couple miles. Your boyfriend won’t be pleased, but he’ll live with it.”
Tucker and Zane swapped a look of what the fuck?
Zane heard a car horn and looked ahead, spotting the approaching—and flashing—headlights of an oncoming sedan. He pointed and shouted, and Tucker saw it too. He slammed the brakes, and the tires screeched against the hot Nevada asphalt. The tractor-trailer raced ahead, but by then it was too late. Tucker couldn’t turn back into his own lane before the oncoming sedan veered onto the shoulder and spun into the ditch.
“Oh shit!” Zane shrieked, turning in his seat to see the vehicle flipping over twice and landing on its roof. A plume of dust swirled around it.
With no other cars approaching, Tucker spun the Charger around and accelerated toward the crash scene. Immediately, Zane grabbed Tucker’s phone and dialed 911.
“Yeah, sis, everything is peachy,” Tucker said.
“And the car accident? Was everyone all right? No one was—”
“No, no. Not seriously. A few scrapes and bruises I think. We didn’t stay around for long. Once the ambulance showed up, we got out of there.”
“I can’t believe you guys saw a car flip over. Did they fall asleep behind the wheel?”
Tucker laughed. “Might have. The roads out here are pretty boring.”
Of course, what Tucker didn’t tell Alicia was that he had been driving in the oncoming lane trying to get a look at some creepy truck driver behind the wheel of his big rig. And the Joyce stuff, he refrained from mentioning that, too. No one needed to know about that except him and Zane. When the paramedics arrived, he told them his side of the story. Police arrived a little after. He told them the same story. An elderly woman and man had been in the front seat of the sedan. A car was driving the wrong way down the interstate, and they swerved to avoid it.
Tucker didn’t remember the make or model of that car, or the license plate. They only saw the accident and stopped to call an ambulance. They were good Samaritans. The police agreed.
“The big event starts at one o’clock tomorrow,” Alicia explained. “But people will be filing in hours before. Mom and Dad think you should arrive around noon or so.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tucker said. “Zane hates getting up early, but I’ll drag his butt out if I have to. We won’t miss it.”
“Good! We’ll all see you then.”
The call ended, and Tucker brought up the interactive map on his phone. It was still a long three hundred miles to Sacramento—something he had neglected to mention to his sister. They’d have to get up real early to make it there by noon. And that didn’t take into account the weekend traffic. The rest of Nevada wouldn’t be bad, but he expected bumper-to-bumper by the time they entered California. Because of course it would be.
The Shell gas station was the only standing structure for ten miles in both directions. He had needed to fill up anyway. Though the late Nevada afternoon had been scorching hot, the temperature had quickly cooled down. It wasn’t bad outside. Tucker watched the sparse nighttime traffic passing on the interstate—particularly the big rigs with unmarked cabs and trailers. Then he heard the gas pump click and finished the transaction.
Zane returned with a bag of cheese-flavored nachos and a bottle of soda. “Was she pissed?”
“Who?”
“Alicia, dude. Because we should be closer by now. Instead we waited around at that accident scene.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell her that. I just said we’d be there by noon.”
“Fuck. You’re gonna have to drag me out of bed.”
Tucker smiled. “Yep, I told her that, too.”
Zane opened the passenger door and tossed his snacks and cold beverage inside. Then he leaned against the roof. “You’re lucky some old people were driving that sedan, man. They didn’t know the difference between a Charger and some fucking minivan.” Zane did his best old lady impression. “Yes officer, it was … dark color … and it had four wheels. I’m sure of it. Now you go catch those bad men. Don’t make me get out my walker!”
Tucker chuckled. “Yeah, real funny. At least they weren’t seriously injured.”
Zane laughed and hopped into the passenger seat.
There was a motel a little ways up the road. Tucker and Zane would stay there for the night. Probably a real shitty one, but there weren’t many choices out in the middle of goddamn nowhere. That should’ve been Nevada’s motto. If you ain’t going to Las Vegas, you’re going to nowhere! Oh and something about not talking to creepy truck drivers over CB radios. That was good advice for people passing through, too.
When Tucker hopped into the driver’s seat, Zane was turning the volume up on the CB radio again. He had that sly grin on his face.
“You won’t believe who’s back,” he said. “He won’t give up.”
“Jiggly Joyce,” the man over the radio said. “Jiggly Joyce, are you out there my sweet honey? Jiggly Joyce and her sweet voice.”
Tucker grabbed the microphone and pressed the button. “Listen, dude. There isn’t a Joyce here. There never was. It was an act from the start. Go mess with someone else.”
Zane tried to grab the microphone from him. “Aw, come on! That was the only fun thing on this stupid drive, and now you’ve ruined it.”
“It’s over.”
The man didn’t say anything for a moment. Tucker thought he had silenced him for good, but then his voice came through the speakers again.
“She’s out there. Put on Joyce, boy. I wanna talk to her. Rodney wants to talk to her. The waves have been silent without her. But she’s listening. Rodney knows it.”
Zane looked over at Tucker. “Jesus Christ, just do it.” He stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth. “Just do that fucking voice again. I don’t give a shit if he’s a maniac. It’s hilarious.”
Tucker looked up and saw a big rig pulling into the gas station, sans trailer. It was dark just like the one they had seen on the interstate. He watched as a man hopped out and went into the store. He looked normal enough. Regular trucker dude with a plaid t-shirt and some oversized hat with PETERBILT written across it. He didn’t look once in their direction.
Tucker raised his voice to that feminine pitch again. “Joyce here. I thought I’d never hear from you again, mister.”
The ma
n laughed. “Rodney’s still been thinkin’ ‘bout you. Can’t get enough of thinkin’ ‘bout them tits I saw. I sure would like to see ‘em again. Maybe feel them. Maybe … stick my dick up between them. Them were perfect tits for a dick. Best I ever did see, Miss Joyce. Rodney gives them his stamp of approval.”
“Well, that’s awfully kind of you, mister. I do love my big tits … and I love thinking about that big cock you must have.” Tucker glanced at Zane. “Where are you?”
“On the road, darling. Always on the road. I told you, Rodney doesn’t stop.”
His voice was still perfectly clear, though. Tucker remembered the previous car’s owner saying that the CB’s range was a good ten miles on a clear night over flat terrain. But even ten miles was optimistic; it was usually around five or six. They had been at the accident scene for more than an hour—fifteen minutes waiting for an ambulance, another fifteen for the police, and then forty-five telling them their story and information and cross-checking with the elderly couple in the sedan. In that time, Mystery Man would’ve been seventy or eighty miles ahead, way out of range for a CB radio.
He clicked the button. “Are you sure you’re still on the road?”
“Course I am. Would I lie to my Jiggly Joyce? The road is always where I am. Night or day.”
Tucker shot Zane a look. “He’s not on the road.”
“So?”
“He’s here. Probably at this fucking gas station. Or not far from it. His voice wouldn’t be this clear.”
Zane didn’t seem to care. “He just wants Jiggly Joyce. Dude, you have a great female voice. We should make some prank call videos and put them on YouTube or something. You know they pay for that shit, right? You get some views and make some money.”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks. That’s the best compliment you can give a dude—he has a great chick’s voice.”
“It’s true!”
Tucker felt a twinge of pressure in his bladder. He handed the microphone off to Zane. “Here. You talk to him if you want. I gotta take a piss before we hit the road.”
“You can’t wait until the motel?”
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