Page 106 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“I think there’s a bad reception.”
“Don’t you dare—”
Click.
The phone goes dead.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to five in my head.
Stay calm.
You got this.
I have a handful of quarters to hit a break in the reception, because they aren’t ignoring me on purpose. All the calls go to voicemail, and this machine eats every last quarter.
“Couldn’t get a hold of them?” Hart shouts as I stride back inside the store.
Does he have a mute button?
I slap a bigger bill on the counter and another beef jerky beside it. “Change in quarters, please?”
“Monster, isn’t it?” The buttons on the cash register beep as he clicks them.
“Maybe consider getting it fixed.”
I stride back outside.
“Don’t worry, they’ll pick up this time.”
I want to punch him in the dick so fucking hard.
“They will pick up!”
Yeah, I shout it.
“So, you don’t need me? You got this handled?”
“Of course, I have it handled. Fuck off.”
After phone calls that don’t go through, and the stupid machine eating my quarters, I’m forced to face reality. I’m stuck driving with him. My enemy. The last person I would ever want to drive with.
At this point, I’d like to crawl into a ditch and cry. Instead, I square my shoulders and march straight to him. Only, he’s not standing there anymore, and the bus is idling.
Wait.
No, it’s pulling away.
He wouldn’t.
I plant my hands on my hips and wait for him to stop or pull around—whatever the hell he’s doing.
He wouldn’t leave me here without a phone or my purse. I had a pocket of some loose change, but my cards are on my family’s RV.
Hart’s bus is gaining speed, the rear lights blinking. He’s already merging out of the gravel lot.
My breath catches in my throat, then adrenaline kicks in.
“No, no, NO!” I shout “Hart!”
