by Aven Jayce
The three of us jolt upright as a tractor-trailer crowded with two floors of pigs missiles past, jarring our heads to follow it up the road. It propels another gust of wind that nearly knocks us off our feet and leaves behind a reeking odor of shit, foreshadowing our own demise.
They’re headed for the slaughterhouse, and I believe the three of us echo the animals’ fears. Trapped in a tiny cell, unable to turn around, with brutish drumming heartbeats responding to the unknown.
The back door of Jack’s car slams shut.
I jump again, this time in fright as the officer heads to his patrol car, plopping his ass in the driver’s seat. He has my license. I’m doomed when he comes back here and starts asking questions—I’m doomed!
Quinn wastes no time ejecting a breath as wild and deep as the sea.
“Keep your hands glued to that hood,” the trooper yells from his vehicle.
“Hey,” Quinn says to Jack in a small voice. “What the hell’s going on? I don’t have an ID.”
“Shh.”
“What if he asks for my name?”
“Shh.”
“No, not shh. I can’t think straight. Give me an answer. Help me out here, I’m not good around cops.”
“And you think I am?” He smirks and spreads his legs in a powerful stance, signaling that somehow he’s sure we’re getting out of this.
“Is that Trent’s gun?” I ask quietly.
“It’s mine, I passed Trent’s along to Roxanne before we left. It’ll be safe with her. Or as my dad insisted, ‘safer with her than with me.’”
“But is that gun yours? You own it?”
He looks over the Hellcat, hearing the trooper on his way back.
“Shh. Stand there like an obedient girl and a good boy, nod, smile, give the man head if he asks, then we’ll be on our way.”
The trooper stops next to Jack, blowing out his cheeks as he stares at the IDs. “Mr. Jameson, do you have any weapons or illegal substances in your vehicle today?”
“No sir.”
“How much farther do you plan on driving this evening?”
“Uh... an hour, tops. We’ll stop before dark, I hope.”
“I hope so, too, for your sake and the sake of your passengers.”
He glances at an ID and at me, back at the card, and back up. “You’re a tad old to be going to a freshmen orientation.”
“I’m a transfer student. It wasn’t just for the freshmen.”
“Do you like the school?”
“Yes, I love it.” I sound extra excited.
He sets the items on the hood next to Jack’s hand and takes a step back, ponders over my bare feet for a moment, then gives Jack a lecture.
“Stopping your vehicle on the side of the interstate, either on the paved area or on the dirt, is for emergency purposes only. We like to keep our highways free of roadside hazards. I’m going to let you off with a warning since you didn’t cause an accident, but I suggest you get off at the next exit,” he points ahead, “and take a break or switch drivers so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”
“Yes sir. Got it.” Jack takes his registration and our licenses, gesturing for us to hurry inside the car. He whistles when I head for the back door, nodding to get in the front. “I want you next to me, sis, it’s safer and I’m tired of you two fooling around back there while I’m trying to drive.”
“Oh, c’mon,” I complain.
“C’mon nothing, get in the front, you’ll be in a hotel room together soon enough. You can suck face when we get there.” He puts on a friendly show for the trooper as I slump in the front seat.
I close the glove box and pull the seatbelt across my chest, saying, “drive,” through a toothy smile as the trooper gets in his car.
The engine revs, the blinker clicks, and he drives like an eighty-year-old man, continuing onward with patience, waiting for the trooper to pull around us.
Finally, after a good five minutes, he speeds by with flashing lights, off to ruin another person’s day.
“Show me those IDs.” Quinn reaches for them, getting reprimanded with a smack to the wrist.
“Don’t touch my property, those are for my eyes, and my eyes only.” He opens the compartment between us and shoves everything inside.
“Is that my real license or is it a fake? And what about Quinn? How come that guy didn’t ask to see one from him?”
“He was satisfied with what he saw, leave it at that.”
“How do you always make your insane life sound so ordinary like it’s no big deal?”
“It isn’t a big deal. Call your aunt and occupy yourself with something other than a routine check by the law.”
“A routine check that could’ve gotten us all arrested.” Quinn reaches in the front again, this time for a cigarette, getting a second slap to his wrist. He snatches one anyway, lights it, and takes two puffs before passing it to Jack. “I just needed a drag to calm my nerves. And by the way, I saw you mouth the word ‘fuck’ when the trooper went for the glove box. You were shitting your pants, same as us.”
“I don’t shit my pants. I may roll around on the ground when someone shoots my fingertip off, but brown drop-offs don’t fall out of my ass when I talk to the cops.”
“Liar,” I say.
“Call your aunt so you and Quinn can keep busy with someone besides me.”
“I will in a sec. I’m still thinking about what to say to her... why can’t we discuss my license and how Quinn got off? Give it back to me so I can put it in my bag.” I hold out my hand.
“No.”
“Fine, if you won’t discuss it, then let’s talk more about what happened in the cornfield. That was good. Not what you went through, of course. I’m super sorry that your mom died, but it was stunning to see you... you know, be vulnerable.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play that game. We need to go back to that conversation so you can feel better.” I do a full-body twist to face him, grip his arm, and say, “Jack, come on, let’s talk... tell us more.”
Quinn’s hand reappears up front and fastens to mine. “Yep, better keep yapping or she will,” he teases.
“Fuck.” He tightens his lips to keep from smiling. “What are you guys, wired now? Speeding out on adrenaline from almost being arrested?”
“Yes,” we say together, then look at one another and laugh.
“I’m definitely speeding out. That was insane.” Quinn’s dynamic voice and cheery face light up the car as he speaks. “I can’t believe we got away. I was close to passing out from a panic attack, but then he let us go... he let us drive away. Isn’t it crazy? This is the first time nothing bad has happened. First time maybe in my entire life. I can’t believe it, we’re not cuffed and in the back of his car. Oh, and hey,” he slaps Jack’s upper arm then holds onto it and leans forward, “I didn’t think they were allowed to search the car, even if it was just to get the registration and license. That, right there, is why I don’t trust any cops. He needed a warrant to open the glove box and dig into Addie’s bag.”
“We got lucky he didn’t search the car. And have you seen my face lately?” He jerks his shoulder forward, releasing himself from Quinn’s grasp to raise a hand to his wounds. “He had probable cause when he saw I had been in a fight. Add that to the two of you looking like a couple of homeless kids I picked up hitchhiking. Addie’s not wearing any shoes, her feet are filthy, her hair’s in knots and sticking up every which way to fucking Sunday, and Quinn turned white-bread-white when the guy asked to see his license. Put it all together and he had every right.”
“I guess we do look a little suspicious,” I say.
“A little?”
“Nevertheless, you deserve an A for your polite performance. That was outstanding coming from a guy like you,” I say.
“Well, I wasn’t gonna flick a cig in his face and say, ‘you got a problem, dick wad?’”
He stares ahead, not answering me.
“Don’t shut down again, pleeease.”
I’m ignored.
Of course I’m ignored.
Why wouldn’t I be ignored?
I turn my thoughts to his situation and how I’d feel if my mom had died from an illness instead of being murdered. Knowing for years, months, even weeks that she was going to pass might be different than a loss that happened so quickly, like from an accident or a murder. I guess in Jack’s situation, it was a lingering illness that became a murder, so he went through both. She murdered herself and his dad helped.
Lives were stolen from us in different, yet very similar ways. And days ago, I also thought my life was coming to an end, yet I have sympathy for him. He had a rope around my neck, and I pity the guy.
Is that odd? Is it sick? Or is it how I move on, knowing that the person sitting next to me in this car, the person ahead of me in the grocery checkout, the person I’ll pass one day on the sidewalk, who’ll fix my car, deliver my newspaper, cash my check at the bank, sell me a lottery ticket, serve my dinner, or the one I’ll make love to each night... all those people have the same anguish of loss inside them, a shared experience that we keep mostly to ourselves.
Agony for a year that I thought was my own, being absorbed in my own damaged, self-centered puny mind, is being nursed by a heightened awareness of the same pain in others.
My world and emotions have just become a much smaller place.
Compassion for someone suffering somehow diminishes my own suffering. Diminishes any thoughts of seeking revenge or hatred about the event. Jack is evil, there’s no question about it, but without experiencing evil, I’d never value compassion.
“Forgiveness,” I whisper. “Most people don’t know how to forgive, but forgiveness brings peace. I forgive you for terrorizing Quinn and me.”
“What are you burdening my ears with this time? Are you some religious nut? Quinn, does she ever stop with this freaky shit? Is this all bible stuff or is it psychoanalysis garbage?”
“Both. And it’s not freaky or garbage. Addie’s sweet and caring. She truly means what she says.”
He glares at me then turns back to the road. “You’re forgiving me for fucking with you? What if I’m not done?”
“Well... that’s okay, I felt it was the right time to say it. Words for all of us to think about.” I reach back to Quinn and take his hand, feeling a delicate kiss on my knuckle.
“I’ll never bring up any personal shit about my life again. Time to get back to business.”
“What business? Back to drugs, murder, and cheating on your wife?”
“All that, and in particular, my wife, but not the cheating part. We have an open relationship, so calling it cheating is off base.”
“Oh God.” I throw my hands up at such a ridiculous comment, especially after I was having a moment. “I’ve heard all that from my aunt and uncle. Total BS.”
“We should eat,” Quinn interrupts.
“Not ‘til we get there,” Jack says.
“Where’s there? How much longer?”
“Yeah, are we there yet?” I add.
The cigarette in his mouth straightens as he inhales. He gives us a look of disgust, indicating he’s not a fan of impatient people, then goes for the sound system to flip through his music.
“You’re in a bad mood after that stop, admit it,” Quinn says.
“He’s always in a mood,” I say.
“I’m not in a mood. My car’s full of annoying, whiny-ass toddlers.” He abandons his music search, deciding to mock us in a snotty tone instead. “Are we there yet? I’m hungry. How much longer? Let up, would ya? For Christ’s sake. I need silence to figure out what to say to my woman so she doesn’t cut off my nuts and shove them down my throat. Yes, we’re almost there... at least... at least I think so.”
“You think so? Don’t you remember where you left her? You’re fucked.” Quinn chuckles. “How could you just leave your wife out here?”
“Not out here, in a motel.”
“What’s up with that? Did she find out that you cheat on her?” he asks.
“If Quinn ever cheated on me, I’d be like, ‘hell, no. See ya.’ And I might cut off his nuts and shove them down his throat, too.”
“I like my nuts, so I’ll remember never to cheat on you,” he jokes.
“You two need to zip it. Quinn, you’re starting to sound like Addie. And just so you know, boning those two girls at the retreat was all business, dull and meaningless. My wife and I have plenty of sex parties at our place, it’s no biggie with her if I stick my dick in someone.”
“Wanna make a bet?” I ask.
He releases a snorting laugh. “You want to bet me? With what money?”
“We don’t have to gamble with cash.”
“Careful what you say,” Quinn warns, fidgeting in the back seat.
“You’re playing with fire, you don’t even know her. She’s mad about living in my dad’s hotel and my battles with him. She’s not gonna be upset about my dick testing a worker.”
“Betcha.”
“Nope.”
“Betcha.”
“Fine. What do you want to wager?”
I smile and look out the window, pressing my finger to my lips as I think.
“Make it good,” he says.
“Okay...”
“Make it simple,” Quinn says.
“Okay... if I get her to admit she’s mad that you screw other women...”
“She won’t be.”
“Well if it’s that, then you have to tell us where Dylan is and why we raced away from the retreat so fast, plus I’m curious how far out west we’re going.”
“I can answer part of that right now. My job was done and it was time to leave. It wasn’t sudden. I was planning on going after checking on Roxanne and the records. You got lucky that I let you hitch a ride. Not to mention I felt sorry for you two when you started running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Scared the cops were gonna get Quinn.”
“I was wasted. I don’t remember much of that,” Quinn says.
“Anyway, you should tell us if you’re taking us somewhere or if we should just get out wherever we feel like it.”
“Go ‘head and try to get out. I’m not stopping you.”
“When you’re driving eighty? No thanks.”
“I’ll tell you about Dylan.”
“And I want my license.”
“Okay. Now what do I get when she tells you to keep your nose out of our business, and she couldn’t care less that I had my dick in some chicks?”
“What do you want?”
Quinn touches my shoulder and says, “Bad move. Don’t let him decide.”
“The four of us are getting in bed together,” he says without any hesitation, like he’s been thinking about it all day. “Emma will love you guys. You don’t have to fuck us, but I want to fuck next to you. It’ll be hot. It’ll make her cum so fast.”
“See, I told you. Bad move.”
“Let me think about it,” I say.
“What?” Quinn’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “Think about it?”
“Awesome.” Jack smiles.
“No, not awesome. Addie, say no.”
“Deal.”
“Deal?” Quinn gasps.
“Well, okay then.” Jack nods, still smiling.
“Don’t worry, I won’t lose.” I pat his hand. “No woman would ever, ever put up with her man’s cock going inside another girl. No way. Look at my aunt and uncle. They’re miserable and a lot of it is because they were with other people. I know that’s true. Besides, if I lose, you’ll rule the bed because your dick is much larger than his and you last twice as long.”
“Addie...”
“And we’re not having sex with them, just next to them. And
now that I think of it, he didn’t say we had to be naked.”
“That sucks, let me add that in, I thought it was a given.”
“No, too late, our clothes are staying on. We can dry hump and you’ll have to use your imagination for the rest.”
“Fuck no, that’s still not good. I don’t want anyone to see my cum face,” Quinn says.
“It seems trivial after all we’ve been through. Not only that, we were a bed away doing it the other day, and he saw us getting it on in the pool, and he listened to us screw... besides, none of what I just said matters because I’m not gonna lose.”
“Better not lose.”
“I won’t. I want to find out where Dylan went, get my ID back, and have an answer to if here is going to become a there. Where’s the end of the road?”
“You think Quinn’s dick is larger than mine?” Jack shifts in his seat, appearing uncomfortable. “Is that what you said, that he’s bigger? I don’t care, but you know, I’ve got a nice curve to mine that rubs women in all the right places. I bet if I held it straight out we’d be the same. And you’ve only seen it half-mast.”
I shake my head. “No. Quinn is much larger.”
“You know what? Why don’t you fucking call your aunt and stop comparing my dick size to his.”
“Sounds like someone’s said this to you before.” Quinn laughs. “You have dick problems, Jack?”
“I was teasing,” I cut in. “I don’t want this to turn into a fight.”
“A woman should never, ever joke about a man’s dick. They’re off limits,” Jack says, waving his bandaged finger at me.
“That’s true,” Quinn agrees. “A taboo subject... if you’re small.”
“I said I was only teasing.”
“If you mention anything about my cock again, I’ll bring up your prepubescent microscopic tits.” He flicks his cigarette out the window, mumbling, “I’m fucking huge. No one’s ever complained about it before... no one...”