Page 29 of The Girl with No Name

Peering groggily to my right, I catch glimpses of quaint houses passing by, their sleepy charm contrasting sharply with my disoriented state. A surge of panic floods through me as Irealize I’m still in my work shirt and slacks, riding in the back of Dunn’s car—well, his dad’s car.

The enigmatic girl with no name rides shotgun, and she and Charlie are chatting casually.

“Yeah, I really am getting a lot of Gemini energy out of you,” she’s saying. “I’m not surprised your wife is a libra. Air signs tend to go really well together.”

“Dunn,” I manage to croak out, my voice hoarse and raw. “Where on earth are we?”

“Gooooooood morning!!” Dunn’s booming voice nearly shatters my eardrums as he takes a sip of coffee, his composure a stark juxtaposition to my bewildered state. “Did you manage to get some sleep?” His tone remains nonchalant.

“Where in the world are we?” I demand again.

“Hey, check out that sign!” the girl interjects. “Terre Haute, Indiana: Home of Square Donuts! Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it?”

“We’re in Terre Haute?! Guys, tell me the truth.” There’s a pleading tone to my voice. “Tell me we’re not on the way to the concert.”

Charlie catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Do you want me to tell you the truth, or do you want me to tell you we’re not on the way to the concert?”

“Dunn! This is bullshit. I have responsibilities. I have a life. I have a plan I need to stick to, and a daily regimen.” The thought of losing my job and being sixty with no 401k flashes through my mind.

“It’s all good, man.”

“Stop the car.”

“Relax, man.”

“I’m serious! Stop the car!”

“Okay, okay, shit.” Dunn shakes his head. “I’ll get off at the next exit.”

“I think the square donuts are at a gas station,” the girl says. She seems genuinely excited about this prospect.

Jesus fucking Christ.I pull out my phone.

I sent Sam a couple ofI love youslate last night—Jesus, we were up at four a.m.?—but she hasn’t responded. Probably sleeping. It’s early on the west coast.

Dunn pulls off at the next exit and into the first gas station we see in Terre Haute, fucking Indiana.

Sure enough, there’s a big marquee sign that says:

Don’t Be a Square, Try Our Square Donuts

Dunn gasses up the car while I jump out to get some air and collect my thoughts, wandering over toward a fence in the parking lot. I feel mildly like I have to vomit, but I’m no puker. The girl heads into the gas station.

A few minutes later Dunn comes over.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It is.”

“I’m genuinely sorry. We’ll head back.”

“It’s just that I’ve been trying for this promotion, and if I’m not there on the day my boss specifically told me to go into the office, that’s not good, okay? Like, I know this is vacation for you, but this is my real life. You can’t just kidnap me and bring me to this thing.”

“Do you remember what you said last night on the beach?”

“Uh, no?” A lump forms in my throat.We hung out at the beach?

No tequila shots. Ever again.

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