Page 34 of Small Town Hunter

“That happens,” Crash said. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

So here we are.Sitting in the car. Watching the road. I see flat red emptiness, but my mind is full of what just happened. Of course Crash is right — I should have stood up for myself. Why did I freeze like that?

“Take the lid off for me darlin’,” Crash says, passing me the coffee he managed to grab while he was whupping ass.

I frown at the cup in my hands. “Did you pay for this?”

“Did you pay for those Mike & Ike’s?”

I pry the lid off carefully. “Stealing is wrong, by the way. I wasgiventhose Mike & Ike’s.”

“Oh yeah? That turd working there saw the whole thing and did nothing. He’ll figure out my free coffee.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to lose his job. Or maybe he was scared.”

“You’re not a coward,” says Crash bluntly. “So don’t defend them.”

My face goes hot.

Crash takes a sip. “That’s the stuff,” he says in blank relief.

“It really tastes good?” I ask curiously. Reverend Wilson had decreed that women are not supposed to take any caffeinated substances. Not even sweet tea. I never tried coffee anyway but I know People of the World like Crash are obsessed with it.

“Try some,” he offers.

Why not? I’m not in the church anymore. I feel a sudden release of a great weight on my shoulders and a gut punch of sadness.

The coffee is bitter and terrible. I take another sip. And another. And another. “Wow. This is nasty stuff,” I gag. I take another drink, slowly. “I hate it.”

Crash’s lip twitches. “Have the rest. I got an energy drink.”

“No — you should have it.”

“Even if I didn’t pay for it?”

Laughing, I settle back in the seat, warming my hands on the coffee cup. The inside of Crash’s car is…different. He’s got about three different GPS readers on his dashboard, and when I ask what they’re for he says “nothing” which means it’s not my business.

“What did that man mean when he said ‘suck out my cream?’ ” I ask Crash. His steady control of the vehicle falters.

“Let’s not go there,” he says.

“Is it that bad?”

“No. It’s a good thing.” His ears turn red.

“So then why can’t you tell me?”

“For the love of God,” he says, and I drop it.

Our truce erodes.The farther we get from Tippalonga, the more he shuts down to me and keeps looking at the map, turning on the radio and turning it off, and occasionally muttering to himself. I take way too long to realize he’s just driving us in circles around our neighboring Cimarron County.

“Is there something you forgot in Tippalonga?” I ask him finally. It’s making me uneasy. I just want to get out of Oklahoma as soon as possible.

“Remember when I said I had business in your town?” he reminds me tersely. Under his breath: “Country boy…country roads…American make. Got to be. Half a million. Half a million, coins and small items...half a fucking million.”

It’s all nonsense to me.

If he’s so worried about money, it’s not like I’m asking him to work for free. All I’m asking is for safe transportation to California. I know Mamie will reward him for getting me there safely because she is rich and generous. Whatever his “job” is, it can’t be simpler than just driving me for a couple days to another state.

---