Carter
Carter flicked his lighter, gently touching the flame to the crumbled bits of marijuana that rested precariously in the dent of an empty soda can. He inhaled the smoke and held it in, passing the can and the lighter to Billie. She took a puff and coughed hard, almost dropping the can.
“This is decent shit,” Billie managed between gasps.
Carter shrugged, exhaling the smoke smoothly. “Better than Mexican ditch weed. Not as good as what you can get in California.”
After their mind-blowing sex in the motel room, Carter realized that the tension between them had broken. On some level, he had known that a lot of his anger at her wasn't because of her mistake at the gas station. That was boneheaded, sure, but it was her first robbery, and he'd seen other people slip up like that in similar situations.
His desire for her had made the rage build up inside of him—he'd been angry at himself for changing his own plans just so he could keep her with him.
But now that things had come to a head, he knew he couldn't keep up some stupid internal struggle. It was time to make the leap.
He was with her now. Period.
Instead of wasting time and energy fighting it, now he could decide on a firm course of action based on that.
They spent an hour taking turns with the sunburn lotion, rubbing the cool gel on their red faces and arms until there was almost none left. Then they had opened the brick of weed and gotten a can of cola from the motel's vending machine, draining it and punching a hole in the side like Carter had learned back in high school.
Now they were sitting on the bed together with Carter's arm around Billie's shoulders, watching the clouds of smoke lazily drift across the room. The TV was on and they were flipping channels, trying to find a late news show with more footage from their failed robbery.
“Are you sure we should be smoking in the room?” Billie asked.
“Trust me, no one's calling the cops in a shithole like this,” Carter assured her. “Worst-case scenario, they keep the deposit when they smell the smoke. After the fucking day we've had, they're welcome to it.”
“Hey, go back!” Billie said, grabbing the television remote and switching the channel. “I think I saw us again.”
The screen showed more of the security camera footage as they held the clerk at gunpoint.
“A Green Beret,” she snorted. “Can you believe that shit? Guy looked like a stiff breeze would knock him down.”
“See? There's the kid,” Carter said, pointing to the screen. “Look, he's walking right up to me! He wasn't even trying to hide or anything. Jesus, what the hell were you looking at?”
“Hey, I can't help it if you were so sexy I couldn't take my eyes off you,” she said. “Besides, that look on your face when he took your bandana was the funniest thing I've ever seen.” She broke into a fresh fit of giggles, and after a moment, Carter joined her.
“I really am sorry about that,” she finally said, composing herself. “I can't believe I was so stupid. I know I almost got us caught or killed.”
Carter took another drag from the can, blowing a smoke ring. “Don't worry about it. My first robbery, I was third gun on a bank job. They had me collect the money from the tellers and put it in a bag. But instead of watching what I was doing, I was too busy staring out the windows for cops, even though we already had a lookout guy for that. So one of the tellers tossed a blue dye pack in with the cash. As soon as we got to the car, boom. I had that blue shit all over my face and arms for almost two weeks.”
Billie laughed. “Really? That's fun to picture.”
He nodded, smiling. “Yup. Couldn't leave the clubhouse all that time, since after the robbery, everyone in the state was looking for dudes with blue faces. That was pretty fucking embarrassing.”
“I'm surprised they didn't give you some awful nickname from that,” Billie pointed out. “You know, like your guys Hazmat and Oiler. You could have been Blueberry, maybe. Or Smurf!”
Carter chuckled. “Yeah, lots of guys have tried to give me nicknames over the years, but none of them ever stuck. I guess when you come down to it, no one could think of anything dumber-sounding than Carter.”
“So now what?” Billie took another puff and managed not to choke on it this time.
“Now we try to get some sleep,” he said. “I know that's probably easier said than done after all the adrenaline from today, but hopefully the weed should help with that.”
“No, I mean after that. Are we going to meet up with the other guys at that truck stop?”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you remember that little detail, huh? At the time, I figured you were probably too scared. We've got a stop to make first, but yeah, we'll meet up with them after that. And they'll kick a little when they see you're still with me, and they'll kick a little more when I tell them you'll be crossing the border with us. But don't worry, I'll set them straight. I'm still their president…I mean, if following us to Mexico is really what you want.”
“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “Have you ever been there before?”
“Nah, but I've known guys who went down there to cool off for a while when things went bad. I've got some names and numbers...people to reach out to who will help us get set up.”
“What's it like there? Based on what you've heard.”
Carter snickered, taking another puff from the soda can. “Well, it's hotter than hell, but I guess you probably know that already. Cheap food, cheap booze. Do you speak any Spanish?”
“Not much.”
“It's easy to pick up some of the basics. Most of the cops and judges down there can be bought with half a can of beans, so there's no need to worry about being recognized and extradited. Things have gotten dangerous over the past couple decades since the cartels have basically taken over the whole country, but as long as we hook up with the right one when we get there—pay a little tribute, maybe do a job or two for them as a good-faith gesture—then the other ones should leave us alone.” He looked at her again quizzically. “You're sure that sounds like a life you want?”
“As long as I'm with you and as many miles from Cactus Hollow as possible, then yeah, it sounds kind of perfect,” Billie said. “Besides, we've made a pretty damn good team over the past couple days. I think we can handle whatever comes our way.”
“Fair enough,” Carter said, passing the soda can to her. He didn't know it was possible to find her even sexier, but she'd just proved him wrong. He'd never met anyone so hungry for adventure, and it turned him on.
“So what's this stop we need to make before we rendezvous with Hazmat and Oiler?” she asked, lighting the pot and inhaling.
“There's a guy I know who lives on a patch of desert south of Fort Stockton. He's an old dude...kind of a survivalist type. He was the one who fed me the inside info about the bank in Cactus Hollow so we'd know when to hit it. I promised him I'd pay him a visit after we did the deed, so I could give him his cut from it. Of course, since Hazmat's got the actual cash from that job, I'll need to front it out of what I've got with me. Should be more than enough, though.” Carter finished off the last hit in the can, shaking the ashes out onto the floor.
“I guess we're going to have to steal another car to get down there, huh?” Billie suggested playfully.
“You got it.”
“Can I please choose this time?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“Sure,” he agreed, smiling. “But now that I don't have to hold a gun on you all the time, I'll keep on doing the driving. Now seriously, we need to get some rest. We've got a big day tomorrow.”
“I'm not tired yet, though,” Billie pouted.
“I might have an idea or two about how we can tucker each other out,” Carter said, reaching over to switch off the light.