by K. B. Nelson
Ding! Ding! Ding! A man pulls a hammer up over his shoulder, boasting in sheer pride at the strength of his swing.
“Douchebag,” I whisper under my breath.
Or so I thought.
He turns and stares me down. Everybody is staring at me. I cut through the grass and stumble through the line for the tea cups and right into the short line for the Ferris wheel. Of course it’s a short line. The majority of people, even in this town, are smart enough to avoid this terrifying death trap.
It wasn’t intentional, my landing here, but I figure it’s my best chance to find Blue in this suffocating mess. My eyes are racing as I wait for the line to move. When it finally does, I’m about ten feet too slow and have to jog to the gate before it shuts.
A cute carnie—yes, there’s more than one—ushers me into my seat. My heart is pounding before the ride even begins. I expect that once it starts, it’ll beat right out of my chest. It won’t be the way I had always imagined dying on this ride, but it’s death, just the same.
Instead of intense terror, I feel peace. The way the cool wind blows softly against my skin comforts me. Up here, the paranoia that the entire world is watching me fades away. Instead, I watch them. Thousands of ants all biting on the same spilled bag of cotton candy. I feel for them, all searching for something they’ll never find.
I need to find Blue.
An eruption of red, white, and blue fireworks glows against my face. Always patriotic and almost never the Fourth of July. As the ride cycles closer to the ground, my eyes are drawn to him like magnets that are drawn together in science class.
I’ve found Blue. He’s walking toward the field, probably going to his Jeep. He’s ready to leave without me.
“Blue!” I scream, but I’m overpowered by another burst of neon explosions in the sky. He turns his head toward the fireworks and watches them fall back to earth as he continues to walk. I scream for him again, but he turns his head back around.
The six-shot revolver of death comes to a sudden halt. I’m close to the bottom, but not close enough to jump.
“Hey,” I yell to the carnie, waving my hands at him.
He looks up to me and tips his hat backward so he can make eye contact. “Need off?”
I nod my head. He smiles at the carnie who operates the ride, and the ride starts up again. I don’t have the three minutes this ride will steal from me if I’m forced to go again. I resolve to jump out, but wait until I’m closer to the ground. When that time comes, I stand up and steady myself against the bars, ready to jump. The seat wavers back and forth, and even though I’m only about ten feet from the ground, I can feel the tidal waves in my stomach.
The ride jerks hard and I fall back into my seat. The carnie looks up to me, screaming, “Are you stupid?”
“No,” I say and hop over the bar and onto the platform. “I’m in love.”
He’s not amused and waves me off. “Get outta here!”
And I’m gone.
* * *
I’ve lost Blue, but I know where he’s heading. I squeeze through the impossibly small cracks that separate one person from the next, bumping into countless strangers, and not caring. The fireworks have now come to a stop and there is an excitement in the air. The grand finale is about to start.
Through the sea of blank figures, I see an opening into a clearing. I push through and exit the crowd, immediately heaving in the sudden abundance of air. I see Blue sitting on a park bench in front of an empty horse barn. Miraculously, I was able to catch up to him. Just a few more deep breaths, and then I will launch myself toward him. I’ll jump in his arms, he’ll embrace me and—
My eyes shoot toward the sky—a thousand supernovas exploding all at once. The creation of an entire new galaxy emerging before my eyes. The Milky Way has nothing on this new world of neon lights. One after another, the beautiful formation of new worlds.
A hand clasps around my mouth and pulls me backward. I taste gasoline. I punch my elbow backward, connecting with a thick sheet of air. My screams are muffled, not that anyone could hear me over the big bang anyway. I throw another jab and miss again. Please let my assailant have a dick—my next move basically depends on it.
I throw my foot back and upward, kicking my assailant in the groin. His hand falls away from my mouth and I feel him stumble back. I spin around to face him.
It’s Rake.
He’s got one hand on his dick, the other one firmly ready to knock me in my face. He grimaces. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m all out of cash.”
Not my smartest moment. Typical Charlie behavior, running my mouth when I should be running. Do the smart thing.
I remember that Blue is less than a hundred feet away. I pivot and race toward him. Rake gives chase and even with an injured reproductive system, it’s clear he’s going to catch me.
Somewhere I wonder if someone is recording this. They’ll play it to an apathetic high school audience that watches on in horror as I’m brutally murdered by a psychotic drug dealer. In flashing red letters as the scene comes to a close, the screen will say Drugs Are Bad.
Real fucking bad. I look behind me and he’s within arm’s reach. The part of my brain that tells my body to run faster must be fried, because I physically cannot shift up. It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear? Well try being stuck in first with Scarface on your tail.
If I’m going to get away, I’ll need a new strategy. I can’t outrun him, but I might be able to hide from him in a faceless crowd. Just have to get there first. Up ahead, there’s a crowd gathering around stuntmen on bikes that are set up inside a spherical cage.
I look behind me to gauge the probability of escape. The odds are directly correlated to the distance between us. Two feet? I’m fucked.
Out of nowhere, Rake is bull-rushed to the ground. Blue picks Rake up off the beaten grass, pulls back his elbow, and punches him in the face. Rake falters to the ground again. Blue drops himself onto Rake’s chest and begins hitting him with a barrage of fists.
It’s not the violence that turns me on, but the idea that I have my own personal superhero. I don’t fancy being the damsel in distress, but I could be saved by Blue every day.
In the near distance, crowds begin to part, and I can vaguely make out what appears to be cops hustling toward the scene. I dart to Blue, grabbing his arm as he’s about to land another punch. My eyes plead with him to stop. I see the struggle in the canvas of his face. He’s not done yet. He’s angry. His chest rises and drops. Ragged breaths force their way through his tight lips. He bites into them and nods at me. Rake certainly deserves what’s coming to him, but not here and not now.
Blue stands up and steps over Rake’s body. It looks like he’s about to kick him, but he just rushes to me and takes my hand. I take one last look at Rake, who is lying on the ground, covered in blood. He seems perfectly capable of taking care of himself—so why didn’t he fight back?
We exit the parking gate, head straight to Blue’s Jeep and drive away. Behind us, a stray firework screams into the sky, exploding in a cloud of white dust.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We opt to take the back way out of town, avoiding the highway. The headlights on Blue’s Jeep illuminate the dark path ahead of us. Dry, cracked pavement zooms past us. I imagine that every crack is another inch away from home. It’s exciting. It’s terrifying. It’s a whole lot of other things, too.
My head is slouched against the seat, turned so that I stare out the window. It’s been about two hours since we left the carnival, and I’ve turned off my phone. By now, my mom probably knows I’m long gone.
The Molly has started to wear off and the after-effects are strong. There’s a blankness in my mind. I’m unable to feel or process anything outside basic emotions. It’s liberating.
Blue has one hand on the wheel, the other firm on the gearshift. There are no stoplights for miles, but he’s always ready to shift.
“There
should be a hotel up here soon,” he says through a yawn.
I look to him. “Do you want me to drive?”
He chuckles. “Seriously?”
“No,” I say with a smile.
If there is a hotel coming up soon, it won’t be the Hilton. A Red Roof Inn is probably asking too much on this desolate road that the world has long forgotten. There are no lights lining the edges of the road. It’s just trees, cornfields, and our love out here. It’s almost perfect.
I lower my head back toward the window. Headlights bounce against the passenger mirror and I snap awake, instantly becoming fully alert.
“Blue,” I say, not breaking my focus on the mirror. “Behind us.”
He cranes his head over his shoulder. His eyes focus on the speeding lights.
“Do you think—”
“That it’s Rake?” He finishes my question. “I don’t know.”
He reaches across my lap, his elbow brushing against the denim of my jeans. His hand feels for the glove-box and pops it open. He grabs something.
I can feel cool metal rubbing across me as he places a handgun onto his lap. My eyes widen.
“You have a gun?”
“What kind of self-respecting former drug dealer wouldn’t?”
Good point.
The car behind us gets closer and closer until the closer than they appear lights become blinding in the side mirrors. Blue squints, losing sight of the lines between lanes. His hand lowers to his gun, flipping the safety off.
I shake my head as his hand wraps around the grip of the gun. His fingers follow suit.
Then it’s blue and red lights.
“Shit,” Blue cries. He’s probably worried about the gun on his lap, but something tells me it’s more than that. Like he has a trunk full of drugs, perhaps?
Then, the sirens wail. I take in a deep breath, prepared to meet our fate. But the cop car slides from behind, and into the oncoming lane. He speeds past us.
Blue throws his head back into the headrest and lets out a light laugh. So do I. We’re two paranoid motherfuckers.
* * *
I lean against the Jeep with my palms pressed against the warm hood. My body glows red from the neon-lit Vacancy sign that sits atop the roof of the two-story motel. It was flashing No Vacancy when we first pulled in, but the light changed a few minutes after Blue had stepped inside the motel office. I told Blue that we should keep driving because they didn’t have any rooms. He said that he’s seen plenty of available rooms in not-so-available motels in his years on the road. And if there wasn’t a room, we could just sleep in the Jeep again.
We’ve done it before, but things were different then. There wasn’t a psychopath chasing us.
I bring my arms up to my chest, hugging myself tight as a cool gust of wind blows past me, tossing my hair into the neon red abyss of the night. In the past ten minutes, I have gone from being too hot to too cold too many times.
A bell rings and Blue pushes through the glass door of the office. He’s nonchalant as he opens the door of the Jeep and grabs the gun, placing it in the back of his jeans.
“I told you we’d get a room,” he says with a grin, then straightens out his shirt to conceal the gun.
“Whatever,” I say playfully.
He steps to the back of the Jeep, pivots on his feet, and tosses me the room key. I’m a klutz so of course it slips through my fingers. I lean down and grab the key. It has a big ‘21’ etched into it, which means I’m going to get lucky. I think.
Blue slings his bag over his shoulder and grabs my bag with his free hand. “Ready?”
* * *
The room is dark, the only light coming from a buzzing fluorescent fixture that hangs over a vanity beside the bathroom door. The room is cold, not the temperature, but a general feeling. It’s definitely not home. It doesn’t even feel like a stop on the way.
Blue walks ahead of me and tosses our bags onto the bed closest to the door. He dives onto the bed, rustling the twenty-year-old comforter, and pulls a switch on a lamp that sits on a nightstand. I push the door closed with my ass.
I pass a mirror on the way to the second bed and notice that the girl staring back at me has sunken eyes. She’s tired. I sink down into the bed, and there’s another mirror in front of me.
To my left, Blue unzips a bag and grabs a baggie filled with that magical white stuff. I grin.
“This place is a dump,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Wanna have some fun?”
Do I ever. I still haven’t come down completely from earlier, but I’m up for trying it again if for no other reason than, here in this closed room I won’t be as paranoid.
* * *
My throat runs and it’s a familiar feeling. Blue pounds a fist against the air-conditioning unit that sputtered out about ten minutes after we walked in the door. When the motor begins whirring up, Blue leans his face against the blowers, craving the cool air. He immediately clicks the off button. “The damn thing’s blowing out heat,” he stammers.
Perfect. I grab my plaid shirt off the bed and wipe my face, instantly dampening the fabric. “It has to be at least eighty degrees in here.”
“It’s about to get hotter.” He stands up, pulling his drenched shirt over his head. Sweat rolls down his chest. “It won’t shut off.”
“We’re going to have to switch rooms.”
He shakes his head. “I saw a car pull in last time I went outside, and there were only two rooms when we got here.”
I throw myself back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling fan that moves in impossibly slow circles. The air is humid, hot, and thick. Above the fan, the ceiling is cracked all the way to the door. What a dump.
The front door swings open. A light tangle of a breeze pushes into the room, but only makes it about a foot in the door before being forced back out. I hop onto my feet and exit the room, meeting Blue against the railing that lines the exterior of the second floor.
He leans coolly against the rail, his hands clasped together in a pondering pose. I can feel the Molly coming over me, impatiently waiting for the release it’ll bring me. It’s rather odd that every time I do it, it’s a wildly different experience. I’d expect some consistency, but it seems to be more a roll of the dice. Sometimes it’s fast, sometimes slow.
I lean one elbow against the railing so that I can face him. There’s a yearning in his eyes, like he’s waiting for something—maybe he’s waiting for the Molly, too. There’s a sense of loss on the edge of his lips, like he needs to say something—maybe it’s I’m sorry. But most of all, what I really notice is the way I feel whenever I look at him, like the rest of the world doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t even want to think about everything I’ve lost, but it doesn’t seem like the worst tradeoff in the world.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks with a light smile.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Call me shallow, but I’ll never get tired of looking at you, wondering what’s going on beneath those beautiful blue eyes.”
“You’re too kind,” he says and looks out into the distance, into the forest that sits on the other side of the desolate highway. “I know we didn’t leave town under the best of circumstances.” He bows his head and twiddles his thumbs. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”
“And I’m sorry I can’t enjoy this adventure, whatever it is.” I latch onto his shoulder, caressing him. “But I know we can, eventually, be happy because you taught me that home isn’t a place. It’s an idea, a person,” I say softly. “You’re my home.”
His throat tightens. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“Once or twice.” I shrug with a grin.
“How ’bout a third?” He turns, resting one arm on the railing. “I love you and I want all of you, but I’ll settle for all the little pieces until you’re happy again.”
A tear–a happy one–forms at the corner of my eye. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”
/> “I think it’s slipped out of your beautiful lips a time or two,” he says and brushes his palm against my flushed cheeks. “But you don’t have to say it because I already know.”
I turn and grip the railing with both hands, my wrists tense against the chipped metal. “When I was looking for you at the carnival, I broke into your dad’s camper.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Broke in?”
“Walked in,” I correct myself. “There were two envelopes—one had your name on it and the other had Rake’s.”
His eyes roll sideways, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“They were empty,” I add. “Didn’t you say you had to pick something up from the carnival?”
“Yeah.” He smiles faintly, as if stating the obvious. “Drugs.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“We have to make money somehow.”
My hand rolls into a half fist as I wipe the corner of my eye and force out a yawn.
“You tired?”
“No,” I say. “I think the Molly’s kicking in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Blue bites into his lip, his eyes making waves before settling on mine. “I was just about to say the same thing.”
I place a hand on his chest, running down the length of his abs and circling just above the edge of his jeans. “You don’t think we should talk about the camper?”
“I think we can figure out that mystery later.” He picks me up by the waist in quick motion, pulling my legs to the side as he prepares to carry me into the room. It feels like we’re on our honeymoon as he pushes his lips against mine, melting into me with his golden kiss.
He steadies his hands on my bottom, making sure he’s got me fully supported as he carries me into room twenty-one. One hand pushes the bags off the bed, the other lays me down gently onto the faded white sheets. He hovers above me as all his scents bleed into one. Sweat, musk, Molly, and sex. The weight of his body grinds against me, the friction burning holes in my jeans.