Page 8 of His Stepdad Wears Leather

The older man pointed toward the back. “En la espalda. A la derecha.”

Noah nodded his head, with no real idea what the guy said. Going by the direction of the pointed finger and the fact he was almost positive ‘derecha’ was ‘right’, he’d look for a door on the right and hope for the best. He soon found one marked‘Hombres’and entered. Again, the bleach smell was overpowering and he wondered if someone had been murdered somewhere inside. His bladder plus the big bottle of soda he’d gotten at the last stop really didn’t care.

Before he could finish, the knob to the door jiggled.

“Occupado,” he called out over his shoulder. It jiggled again, and he frowned. “Occupado!”

The knob stilled, and he finished his business. As soon as his bladder was relieved, his mind was free to consider the next move. Noah was in the middle of nowhere, and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure where he was going. He’d had to ditch his phone or his parents might’ve been able to track where he was. Noah zipped up and washed his hands quickly before opening his duffel. Digging through his bag, he searched for the directions he’d printed out before leaving. He found the paper with his mother’s address, but no map.

Fuck!

Had he left it at home? Would his parents find it and realize where he was headed? All he had was an address. Anoldaddress that might not be up to date. The phone number he’d found online had been scribbled on the back of the directions.

Along with his best friend’s phone number. He wouldn’t be able to check in—he didn’t have the numbers memorized.

I should’ve called her before I left… Fuck, why didn’t I?

His inner voice chuckled within.Because you’re chicken shit. And an idiot.

The address would have to be enough. After closing his duffel, he opened the door. No one was waiting to get inside. He frowned, wondering who’d needed inside so bad only moments before. Moving on, he returned to the front counter and eyed the friendly older man. “Um… yo tengo… un map?”

“Sí, un mapa,” the clerk said, pointing to the newsstand beside him.

Noah walked over and perused the rows of Spanish language newspapers and magazines—but only saw one map. It showed a chunk of the U.S. where the Greyhound traveled taped to the wall above the newspapers. “Shit.”

“Can I help?” the guy who’d gotten off the bus was suddenly beside him.

There was a curious mien to the guy’s eyes—obvious interest. He’d noticed it a few times on their trip, but he’d been too wound up between running away from home and the prospect of meeting the woman who’d abandoned him face-to-face to think about a quick fuck with a bit of rough trade.

And rough the guy was, in an almost kinda hot and dangerous aspect. Tousled dark blonde hair. Beard scruff. Tight, well-worn jeans with what appeared to be a decent bulge. Tattoos, though some of them definitely appeared like the prison variety. Strong muscles—the kind that could hold someone up in the air while he thrusted hard.

Or choke you to death behind the store.

“You from around here?” Noah asked.

“Not exactly… but I’ve picked up a little Spanish here and there, so I could help… maybe.”

Noah dug the address out of his pocket and handed it over. “Can you ask him where this is?”

The man wandered closer to the counter. “Él necesita direcciones…” He offered the scrap of paper. “Aquí.”

“Ahh,” the clerk said. Rapid Spanish directions were rattled off between them and the scrap of paper returned. Noah watched as the two men spoke—and for once he wished he’d paid better attention in class. A few words here and there made sense, but on a whole, he got pretty much nothing.

“He said to take a left outside the door and it’s on the other side of town. Take another left when you see the big church with a bell and the community is on the right. He also said it’s about fifteen miles. You got a ride coming?”

“No,” Noah said too quickly. He paused, realizing he’d told the man he was all alone out in the middle of nowhere at nearly midnight.Smooth move.

A smile played over the man’s lips. “Maybe a cab? If this place has cab service? We seem to be out in the sticks here.”

“I don’t have any money left,” Noah murmured, lying. He didn’t havemuchleft, but unlike the last question, he was smart enough not to announce the fact to a complete stranger. “Thanks for the directions. I appreciate the help.”

“No problema,” the guy said with a wicked grin.

He returned the guy’s smile though he sensed he shouldn’t.

With a wave to both men, he exited the tienda. Little bells over the door jingled as the door opened and closed. Remembering the directions, he took a left—but didn’t get far before he was stopped.

“Hey!” Mr. Greyhound stood in the open doorway before slowly jogging a bit closer. “I could… get you a ride. But it would cost you,” the man said after leaning a little closer, his voice growing deeper and huskier.

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