Page 1 of The Highwaymen

The Heartz Travel Stopoutside Amarillo was one of the worst I’d ever stopped at. The big neon sign soared high in the sky, lights flickering over diesel prices long out of date. A billboard twenty miles back advertised the place had clean showers and hot food, but both had been tepid.

I sat in the dingy café, sipping my gritty coffee, peering out at the dirty parking lot where lines and lines of semi-trucks were parked. I’d left my ride, the Proud Mary, parked on the far end of the lot, far from all the other rigs. I liked my privacy and thought the parkinglot might make for a nice stopover. I’d since changed my mind and decided to move on for the night, just as soon as I finished my coffee.

And picked up some entertainment for the ride.

The passenger side door of one of the trucks opened and an attractive looking young man climbed out. Waves of chestnut hair fell around his neck and shoulders, brushed back in a way that reminded me of a seventies heartthrob. He wore a sweat stained white tank top, cargo shorts, and sandals. Couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, twenty-three. Young to be working the lot, and good looking, too. Too good looking to need the cash. This boy was no lot lizard trolling for cash to feed his meth habit, and yet he’d climbed out of two different cabs in the last forty-five minutes.

Like the last one, the truck he’d just climbed out of rumbled to life as soon as he was clear of it and trundled out of the parking lot. Weird. What had the kid done to scare off the pair of truckers? Nothing good, I hoped.

But it wasn’t my problem. Not yet, anyway.

I finished my coffee and dropped a tip on the table before I hit the toilet one last time. The kid was leaning against the wall near the front door when I came out, smoke trailing up from a cigarette. Well, that’d make anybody kick him out of their cab. Smoking was a nasty habit.

I paused just outside the door and opened the pack of Pall Mall reds I’d bought inside. Then I patted myself down in search of a lighter.

A flame sparked in front of me, offered by the young man.

I glanced over at him as I tucked a cigarette between my lips. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

I leaned in and lit my cigarette, letting the familiar rush of nicotine smooth the jagged edges of me into something more blunt. “You’re a little young to be out here working the lot, aren’t you?”

“Inflation didn’t ask for my birth certificate,” he replied with a smirk.

I gave the kid a quick once over. He was even more attractive up close, exactly the kind of man I’d normally pick up. He fit the profile with his dark hair, dark eyes, and cash-only business leanings. Problem was, this kid had a familiar spark of darkness in him, one I knew better than to trust.

“If you’re going to proposition me, don’t waste your time,” I said. “I ain’t interested tonight.”

“Good thing I’m off the clock, then.” He took another inhale of his cigarette before tapping off the long column of ash. “Honestly, this place sucks. I was thinking of moving on.”

“Where to?”

He shrugged. “Where you headed?”

I looked over at him, the cigarette dangling from between my lips. “Thanks for the light,” I said and affixed my cap before walking off toward my rig.

As I walked across the dimly lit parking lot, my boots crunched on the gravel with each step. Proud Mary waited for me, her chrome gleaming under the flickering overhead lights. I climbed up into the cab and settled into the well-worn driver's seat, the leather creaking beneath me.

I turned the key, and the engine roared to life, a familiar deep rumble that I could feel in my bones. The dashboard lit up, the needles on the gauges jumping to attention. I adjusted the mirrors, catching a glimpse of my own reflection - a grizzled, weather-beaten face, hard eyes that had seen too much. My hands, rough and calloused, gripped the steering wheel, ready to put this shithole in my rearview mirror.

But something stopped me. Call it intuition, or maybe just a gut feeling, but I couldn't shake the image of that young man frommy mind - the way his chestnut hair had gleamed under the flickering neon lights, the spark of mischief in his dark eyes, the casual nonchalance with which he'd leaned against the wall and smoked his cigarette. There was a story there, I was sure of it. A story I suddenly found myself wanting to hear.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, torn. I had a schedule to keep, miles to cover before I could rest my head. But the open road would always be there, waiting for me. This opportunity, on the other hand...

Almost before I knew what I was doing, I found myself putting the truck in gear and slowly drove across the lot. As I approached the spot where the kid was still smoking, surprise lit up his face. I rolled down the passenger side window and leaned across the cab.

“Get in,” I said gruffly.

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing me warily. But then he flicked his cigarette to the ground, grabbed the dingy backpack sitting on the ground beside him, and climbed up into the cab, settling into the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” he asked as I pulled out.

“Los Angeles.”

He whistled. “Never been there. Is it nice?”

“You ever seen that tv show about the devil?Lucifer?”

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