New York
I pulled into the furthest parking spot at the gas station. I was hungry, aching, and my head was throbbing a little.
My fingers clutched the gear shift and pushed it into park before I stumbled out of my car. Heading into the convenience store, I passed a figure leaning near the entrance and tried not to get too close as I went through the automatic doors. Moving toward the back of the store, I grabbed five energy drinks from the fridges on the back wall, then I made my way to the front, snatching up a handful of Slim Jims and two king size packs of peanut M&Ms.
Dumping it all on the counter, the clerk looked at me, a crazy mop of dark curls half covering his eyes. His chubby fingers placed all the items in a bag and I handed him my debit card before he could tell me the total. I couldn’t handle talking to another person right now. I just needed to get to Tucson ASAP.
He handed me the bag as my eyes strayed toward the rows of cigarettes behind him.
I looked over my shoulder. Nobody was behind me.
“A Marlboro, please,” I managed to get through my swollen throat.
He frowned, but turned and grabbed a pack.
“Make that two,” I added, handing my debit card back.
He sighed heavily, a couple of those wild curls floating with his breath. I tried not to breathe in the distinct scent of nacho cheese that wafted my way as he rang up my cancer sticks.
With the two packs in my fist, I stopped right outside the door and dropped my bag of junk food and energy drinks to tear open my box of cigarettes.
Hands shaking, I dug in.
Pressing the orange tip between my lips, I savored the familiar comfort I had given up nearly two years before.
I sighed, then felt through my pockets.
“Shit…” I groaned, feeling no lighter in my pocket.
Of course I didn’t have a lighter. I didn’t smoke anymore.
“Here,” a deep, gravelly voice said from a few feet away.
I looked up wearily and saw the figure I’d passed on the way in, holding up a Bic.
I eyes him, but the need for a smoke outweighed the need for wariness. After what I’d been through, what could this man do that he hadn’t?
“Oh my God, thank you,” I told him in my awkward, swollen voice as I went toward him to get to the lighter.
He flicked the flame up and I dipped my head, lighting the end.
“Should have gotten a lighter,” I added in a whisper as I leaned against the wall, taking my first inhale.
We stood there for a minute, both of us puffing on our cigarettes in silence.
“What happened to your face,” he said finally, nonchalantly in that low, gravel-filled voice.
I was quiet for a moment before my indignance strengthened my resolve enough to say, “None of your business.”
He grunted, then pulled back the hood. His hand stroked over his almost bald head, only a buzz cut of dark brown or black hair remained over his light skin.
“To think I lit that up for you,” he grunted again.
“I already said thank you,” I mumbled.
“Yeah whatever.”
More silence.
I was pulling so hard on my cigarette that it was a nub quickly and I pulled out another one.
“Can I have another light?”
“Yeah, right after you tell me what happened to your fucking face.”
I ground my teeth together, but I was determined to not go back in the store to face curly-haired cheese breath again.
“I fell into a wall,” I lied, holding out my smoke.
He finally turned to me, flashing these striking blue eyes at me.
“Bullshit,” he ground out, but flicked the lighter again.
I dipped again, lit again, then leaned back against the wall, feeling my nerves ease and my hands quiet their shaking.
“Boyfriend,” I murmured a moment later, thinking that it didn’t matter if I told a stranger about it.
“Your boyfriend rearranged your face?” he narrowed his eyes at me.
“Ex-boyfriend, now.”
“Good. The goddamn cunt…”
“Excuse me?” I took a step back.
“Wasn’t talking about you. Chill out, bitch.”
It was my turn to narrow my eyes on him.
“I’m not a bitch. Fuck you.”
“My deepest and most sincere apologies, Princess,” he rolled his eyes, but I saw one corner of his mouth lift in what might have been a smile if his entire face wasn’t already frowning.
My lips pressed into a hard line, but I pressed my back onto the stucco building to keep puffing. I needed it. I sucked harder.
“You got nowhere better to be?” I asked him, hoping he’d catch my drift and leave.
“Nope.”
“How about on the other side of the building?”
“Nah, this is a nice spot.”
I sighed, irritated.
“Where are you going with energy drink, jerky and candy? That’s road trip food if I ever saw it.”
“Mind your own damn business. Don’t be a creep.”
“Says the bitch standing next to me using my lighter.”
“I’m not a bitch.”
“Sorry, Princess.”
“Fuck you.”
“Who will? You?”
My skin tingled with anger.
“In your dreams.”
“Nah, my dream bitches are hotter.”
He lifted his own cigarette back to his lips for a draw. He held the smoke for a moment then blew it out through thin lips.
“Good, they’re probably all you’ll ever get, so you might as well enjoy them.”
Again with that almost-but-not-quite smile.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I turned to face the parking lot. I hadn’t expected him to agree.
“So where you’re heading?” he asked again.
“Arizona,” popped out of my mouth before my brain-to-mouth filter could do its job.
He took out his cigarette, holding it between two fingers as he slowly turned to me.
“Arizona?”
I shrugged.
“By yourself?”
“None of your business.”
He turned toward me, holding his thumb out like a hitchhiker.
“I’m heading to Albuquerque.”
“And that’s my problem how?”
“I could use a ride.”
“Do I need to repeat my question?”
“I’ll fill up every other tank.”
I opened my mouth to be bitchy again, but suddenly stopped. I could use the money. I’d quit my job and had an entire week before I would start my new one in Tucson.
“Every other?”
“Every other.”
“What if you’re a psycho or something?” I blurted. “Or a rapist, or a serial killer?”
“Obviously I’m too fucking charming to be a psychopath or serial killer. And I have my dream girls, remember? What would I need you for besides your wheels? It’d sure as hell be better then the bus.”
I was unsure if I should be offended or reassured.
Who picks up a stranger at a gas station?
“I’ve got some mace. You can have it til we get to Albuquerque.”
Well, at least mace would give me time to push him out of the moving car if he did turn out to be a psycho.
“Make it two tanks out of every three and you have a deal,” I told him. “And your lighter. I want your lighter.”
His other hand, the one not holding his cigarette, came out of the pocket and he flipped the lighter in his hand a couple of times before tossing it into my awaiting one.
“Fine, but you’re giving me one of those Slim Jims.”
I pocketed the lighter and stuck the orange tip of my cigarette back in my mouth to draw one last puff from the stub that was left of it.
“You have to finish that out here,” I told him. “No smoking in the car. It’s a lease.”
He lifted his hand, placed the cigarette between his lips precariously as he scratched at the five o’clock shadow on his chin.
“We’re going to have to stop a lot, then.”
“Fine,” I agreed, knowing I’d need a lot more cigarettes to get through the next few days.
He dropped what we left of his stick, smashed his black Converse shoes over it and picked up the olive green duffle by his feet.
“Let’s go,” he motioned me forward.
“My car. I decide when we go.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall.
I waited a whole two seconds before dropping my own cigarette and saying, “Let’s go.”
I heard him mumbling profanities behind me as he followed me to my car.
My stomach spun a bit at the idea of being alone in a car for thirty-plus hours with a stranger, but my gut told me I’d be ok. And, he’d promised mace.
I got into the driver’s seat and clutched the keys in my hand as he slid into the side seat.
“You got your whole fucking apartment in the back seat?” he asked, looking annoyed and amused at the same time.
Was that expression even possible? Evidently.
“I want that mace, or we’re not going anywhere.”
“Fuck, chill,” he grumbled, unzipping his bag.
I watched him dig through it for a minute, feeling nervousness nauseate me.
He pulled his hand out, small black cylinder clutched in his large fist.
“If you use this on me, I’m going to lose my shit.”
“Then don’t make me use it on you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a hell of a lot nicer than the cunt you called your boyfriend.”
I snatched the canister out of his hand and tucked it into my pocket before inserting my key.
The engine roared to life and I shifted to reverse.
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