WILD RIDE
by Juliette Jones
Copyright © 2014 Juliette Jones
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed or scanned in any electronic or printed form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
WILD RIDE is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Cover art photo used under license from Shutterstock.com
First Edition: February 2014
Chapter One
I awoke feeling happy, God knows why. I’d had little sleep, the day was already hot as sin, and I had another long shift ahead of me at a job that I hated with every fiber of my being. I’d had waitressing jobs before that I’d half-enjoyed, but The Rusty Nail was hardly a choice establishment. The clientele were a seedy, drunken, desperate bunch who never tired of groping and grabbing as their beer-on-tap was liberally, endlessly served. By me. A dead-end bar on a dead-end street in a dead-end town, that’s what it was. The tips were good enough, though, so I’d stuck with it for eight and a half months so far, saving every penny I could get away with, stashing my wadded bundles of cash in an empty peanut butter jar I hid at the back of the kitchen cupboard where I kept the herbal teas, the organic rice, the walnuts, when I could afford them: it was a cupboard Cal avoided.
I’d thought of quitting my job more than once, God knew that. Every day, in fact. But it helped that I could walk the mile and half from the house we were renting – a glorified shack with one bedroom and the smallest kitchen I’d ever seen. My car was a rust heap that ran, but barely. It needed some stuff done to it that Cal had promised he would take care of, especially after the mechanic said the repairs would cost more than the car was worth. Cal was a mechanic, so I’d thought he might make it a priority. Take it to work with him, or something. Fix it when he had a spare hour or two.
That hadn’t happened. His motorcycles needed fixing. There was always a part that had to be replaced or a spark plug to tune, or whatever.
Cal’s promises had never been something I could reliably hinge my hopes on. Even in the beginning. Now, after almost two years of living together, our relationship had taken on all the glitter and glamor of the dingy windows the sun was feebly trying to shine through. And it wasn’t having much luck. Looking around the stuffy, messy bedroom, I couldn’t quite place the reason behind my unwarranted spark of optimism. Beyond the dirty panes of glass, the sky gleamed a bright, incandescent blue. Outside this house, it was a masterpiece of a day and one that I wanted to make the most of.
And I remembered: today was my birthday. My twenty-first.
I’d already planned to stop in at a swanky shop I passed on my way to work, to treat myself. There was a handbag I’d had my eye on for a whole month. It was red and orange, made of leather. Expensive. Just last week, it had been put on sale. Thirty percent off. And if a girl couldn’t buy herself a present on her twenty-first birthday, then what was the point? I worked hard and I figured I deserved it. God knew Cal wouldn’t buy it for me. I’d be lucky if he even remembered it was my birthday.
Before I could rise from the bed, Cal’s burly arm wrapped around me. I could smell the sweat and grease of yesterday’s workday. He hadn’t even bothered to shower before coming to bed. Nice. He pulled me closer, and started kissing my neck, but I struggled, pulling away from his grasp. “Let me go,” I said. “I’m getting up.”
His grip on my arm tightened. “Let’s have some fun,” he murmured.
It was the last thing in the world I felt like doing. Fun with Cal, I realized at that moment, wasn’t fun anymore. It had been, once. A long time ago.
I wriggled free of him and heard him swear. “What the fuck’s up with you, Lacey? Are you screwing around on me or something?”
“No,” I said, instantly relieved to be out of his reach. “I just have to get into work early today. There’s a new girl starting and I have to train her.”
“Why do you have to work so much? You should spend more time here. With me.”
I didn’t bother telling him that I was specifically avoiding doing exactly that, or that I had some other stuff I wanted to do before work. If he knew how much money I planned on spending on the bag, he’d go apeshit, plus he’d wonder how I made enough to buy it. At first I’d felt a little guilty about skimming off of our shared income. Hiding it away for myself. I’d been saving since I got the job at The Rusty Nail. I must have known I wouldn’t be here forever. Even then, without even realizing it, I’d been hatching an escape plan.
I took a quick shower and put on a pair of white cotton panties, a white sundress and my favorite sandals. Drying my long, wavy, white-blond hair until it was smooth, the way Cal preferred it – out of habit more than any inclination to please him, I left it loose. I guessed it was already ninety degrees outside and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. Checking to make sure Cal wasn’t up yet, I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, to muffle the noise I was about to make. Reaching to the back of my cupboard, I pulled out the jar. But when I pulled it out, it felt light. Opening it, I could see that it wasn’t stuffed full with the $2,314.00 I’d saved. There was only a small roll of wadded-up tens and twenties. My stomach did a weird little flip and I reached back into the cupboard, searching. Maybe it had tipped over, and spilled. But no. It was tightly sealed, well-disguised. Aside from a few forgotten tea bags and some rice grains, the back of the cupboard was bare. I counted the money. A hundred and fifty-eight dollars. My fist balled around the crumpled bills. Anger bristled in me, and a sadness that felt more like grief. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes.
I stormed into the bedroom. Cal was awake, lying on his back with one arm slung behind his head. His other hand was gripping his erection, rubbing it. “Come here for a minute, baby. Come and give me a little love.”
“Where’s my money?” I accused, having no intention of doing any such thing.
“I needed it to pay the rent,” he said, increasing his pace.
“I already gave you my half. Last week. Besides, the rent’s only seven hundred. Where’s the rest?”
“My Harley’s havin’ a few issues, honey, you know that. I just needed a new exhaust pipe. And the clutch was rusted.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You used my money to fix your Harley?”
“Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t mind. You got plenty there.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll do that next. Oh, fuck,” he gasped, using both hands. “Come on, Lace. Come sit on me.”
“Fuck off,” I said, shocking even myself. I never swore. I always thought it sounded crass. Trashy. Never mind that I was trash, I mused, surprising myself again with the errant realization. I’d never thought of myself that way before this minute, not even once. But now that my money was gone I was back to square one. Back to The Rusty Nail and the endless, bottomless pit that was my life. Why had I ever even bothered to scrimp and save and dream? Maybe this was all I was destined for. Maybe he was my destiny. As I considered this possibility, my spirit kicked up defiantly. No way. No fucking way. “I want my money back.”
Cal jumped up and strode over to me, grabbing me. He pushed me against the wall, pinning me with the heavy weight of his body. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
I’d never been afraid of Cal before that moment. Irritated, disappointed, mildly repulsed, yes. But never afraid. The rage in his eyes terrified me. Even so, I refused to cower from him. I was done with him, I knew it right then and there. All I wanted to do was get away from him. Desperately. And I wasn’t thinking straight. “I said give me my money, you useless, low-life loser. Give it to m
e!”
It was then that Cal slapped me, right across the side of the face. Hard. So hard that I fell, bumping my head against the wall. And in that split-second of white, star-flicked brutality, I took my chance. I crawled through the open bedroom door before he could react, and I rose to my feet, running to the front door. He ran after me but I was quicker. I pulled the door open and ran across the unkempt lawn to the driveway, where my old car was parked. The keys were in it. It wasn’t a car that someone would want to steal. He was searching for his jeans, or something to put on, in the messy bedroom. I had seconds, and I prayed with every ounce of religious tendency I possessed, which – until then – wasn’t all that much. I prayed as though my life depended on it, and maybe it did.
I pumped the gas and turned the key. The car spluttered but didn’t fire. I did it again. And again. On my fourth try, the engine roared to life. I gunned it once more, then jammed it into reverse. I backed right out onto the road, not even looking or caring. I think I would rather have died a sudden, violent death than have stayed in that house even one second longer.
A car swerved and honked but I barely even noticed it. He was coming.
Slamming the car into drive, I floored the accelerator and lurched out into the path of oncoming traffic. I didn’t care if I hit him or if someone else hit me. I gunned that piece-of-crap-turned-beautiful-chariot to speed, manoeuvering my way between a few cars, whose drivers were waving their fists and yelling. I barely noticed.
Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I could see him. Standing there in the middle of the road, shirtless and barefoot. Getting smaller in the glorious distance.
I was twenty-one years old and had a hundred and fifty-eight dollars to my name.
And I was free.
Chapter Two
I never even considered going in to work. The torrential relief that I would never again step foot inside The Rusty Nail was cathartic, in a way. I was better than all that, or at least I’d always believed it. Better than those groping hands and those lewd comments, as though I was an ornament or a piece of meat on display, for their amusement. It was demeaning but I tried to rise above it. Some days the resilience was more difficult to summon than others, but it hardly mattered now. I praised whatever invisible force was responsible for my escape. My freedom. And all my new, glimmering uncertainties.
There were a couple of things I wouldn’t have minded bringing with me. A few old photographs. A couple of my favorite books. My mother’s gold bangle, which wasn’t worth much but was one of the few possessions I valued. Cal would probably try to pawn it for spark plugs or motor oil. In my mind, I let it go. I could do without possessions and there was no way in hell I was going back for them.
The world looked wide open. Clean, somehow. Light, and more beautiful than I could ever remember it looking.
I checked the fuel gauge and thought about where I was going. I was heading north and my gas tank was almost empty: two details I needed to remedy immediately. The plan came to me so quickly and so easily that I couldn’t help smiling. As I did, I spied my favorite pair of sunglasses, sitting right there on the passenger seat. The ones I thought I’d lost a couple weeks ago. It seemed like an omen of sorts, finding those glasses. The ones that made me feel glamorous, somehow. Like Jackie O or some rich European. Not that I’d met many of those. Anyway, it felt auspicious. Like a clue or a promise. Like everything was going to be all right.
My subconscious mind must’ve been gearing up for this moment for some time because I knew exactly where I was going. Austin. An old friend of mine from high school was at school in Austin. Her name was Sara. We’d been close. She’d even encouraged me to apply to college at UT with her, which I’d started to do. My grades had been good enough, just. It was the money that held me back. I could take out a loan, but it would be huge. More money than I’d ever seen in my lifetime. It’s what people have to do to get ahead, I was told by guidance counselors and well-off friends. The financial aid forms were long, and complicated. I’d filled them out, but on the day I’d been ready to mail everything off, I’d met Cal. That very day. He’d charmed me at the time with his muscles and his motorcycles. His devout, charmed affection. His job and his life experience and his promises.
Stay in Tulsa with me. Move in with me. I’ll take real good care of you.
I’d stayed.
Tulsa was where I belonged, he’d convinced me of that. I’d never been further than Oklahoma City. The only time I’d ever been out of the state of Oklahoma was to go to a party with some high school friends once in Fayetteville, Arkansas. No one in my family had ever been to college. Not my father, who’d skipped town on a Tuesday in April when I was twelve. Not my mother, who’d worked as a secretary for an insurance company in Jenks for twenty-six years until she died in a car accident on the way home from work three months before I graduated from high school.
I always thought it sounded so exotic: college. University. Yes, I’m filling out my college applications, thanks for asking. So lofty and out-of-reach. But when my friends started to apply, I’d considered it. I’d always been a good student, mainly because I’d been addicted to reading from a young age. I’d picked up a vocabulary that didn’t really fit in at the gas station or down at The Rusty Nail. People teased me about it and Cal occasionally got downright irritated. Quit usin’ those big words, he would say. Who you tryin’ to impress around here anyway?
Sure, I’d found the whole idea of college intimidating. What would Austin be like? It seemed so far away, like another world altogether. A big one, with too many unknowns to count.
Cal and his friends had come to the diner I worked at, after school. They’d ordered coffee and apple pie. He’d come again. And again. Every day. He’d offered to take me for a ride on his motorcycle. At first I’d refused. I had other plans, after all, that didn’t include local men. But after a while, after I’d had a panic attack about the forms and the loans and the empty smiles of the recruiters, I’d relented. I could stay with him, he’d said. His job prospects were good, and his boss might promote him. He’d drive me to work. Anywhere I wanted to go. It had seemed so much easier, to stay, to be taken care of at a time in my life that had been overwhelming, and sad. My mother’s grave was still freshly dug. The big decisions and the wider world had been more than my grief-addled, small-town mind had been fully able to contend with.
I no longer wanted easy.
Pulling into a gas station, I filled up the tank and bought a map, a bottle of water, a bottle of whiskey and three chocolate bars. Happy Birthday to me. By the time I’d paid for everything, I had exactly one hundred and twelve dollars and sixty-two cents.
I’d look for a job in Austin. I’d look for my friend and a place to live. I’d take a few college classes. And I’d pull myself out of the pit I’d been wallowing in for far too long. Since day one, in fact.
Until then, I just wanted to feel the breeze in my hair and the sun on my skin. I wanted to count the miles and watch the distance accumulate.
I wanted to live, laugh and have an adventure like nothing I’d never known. Hell, yeah: I was young, free and ready for anything. No more ties or weights. Just open road and possibilities.
I slipped on my sunglasses and put on my old straw cowgirl hat that had been lying on the backseat. Taking a big swig of the whiskey, I pulled back out onto the road, heading southeast. I turned the radio up.
***
I decided to take an indirect route.
After all, he might follow me, now that his Harley was all fixed up. To tell the truth, I wasn’t all that worried about it. Cal wasn’t clever enough to find me. He wasn’t driven enough to commit himself to a journey like that. He’d get distracted by his goddamn spark plugs or some such before the idea would take hold. Tulsa was his stomping grounds and he had no desire to spread his wings. Plus, even Cal would’ve figured out by now that whatever relationship we might have had in the past had well and truly sputtered out. We hadn’t been intimate in a while, if �
�being intimate’ was even an accurate description of what we did. Cal was my first lover – my only lover – and I didn’t know a lot beyond the experience of being with him. But I’d read books. I’d heard people talk about ‘foreplay’ and ‘multiple orgasms’ and all that fanciful-sounding stuff. And it didn’t require a college degree to figure out that I might have been missing out on a few things. Maybe our chemistry wasn’t right. Maybe our ‘pheromones’ – whatever those were – weren’t quite compatible. Maybe we’d both be better off trying our luck elsewhere.
The thought gave me a little rush of excitement. Maybe those Texas guys had something better to offer me. I was curious.
Taking another swig of whiskey, I turned south onto Route 69, smiling again as I read the road sign. Another intriguing thought. Cal hadn’t been all that interested in stuff that didn’t involve his own quick and immediate gratification. 69. It wasn’t something we’d ever tried. There were a whole lot of things, come to think of it, that we’d never tried. The thought of a skilled, sun-tanned rebound Texan entertained me as I drove along. I let my daydreams wander into risqué directions. How would that work, exactly? What would that be like? What would it feel like?
I was brought back to an abrupt reality when my car’s engine made a loud knocking sound.
Oh, hell.
But it seemed to recover. A few smaller knocks faded to the once-again steady hum of the motor.
Please just get me to Austin. Another shot of whiskey calmed me as the hot air blew in through the open windows, rippling through my long hair. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with a bandana. My air conditioner hadn’t even worked when I’d bought this hunk of junk so I didn’t even bother. And the motor was making more noises. A burning smell was hard to ignore. I was going to get to Austin come hell or high water, one way or the other, car or no car. There was simply no way I was turning around and going back. Even if I had to walk to Texas.
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