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“THANKS FOR THE RIDE, Charlie.”  I stare out the window, watching the scenery go by, wondering when the caged-animal numbness that’s been my companion for nearly five years will start to fade.

In some ways, I hope it never will. Numb is a shit ton better than the pain.

The pain of knowing I may never see her again.  Never touch her again. Never feel her lips on mine.  Never know the taste of her cunt.  The sounds she would make when she cums.  Orgasms that come from me. Only me.

Because she was supposed to be mine.

She was mine.

I waited for her.  I am nothing if not a man of patience. Unfortunately, this time, I’ve been cursed with a horrific joke, a joke that took my patience and turned it on us both.

Risk versus reward.

Well, I took the risk and waited.

But I lost the reward.

And now I’m fucking grateful just to have a car come pick me up.  One with a friendly face in the driver’s seat.  Thoughts of her tumble in my mind.  Thoughts of her sweet face.  The curves of her body.  My fingers twitch and the tightness in my core nearly doubles me over as I futilely try to calm the hard-on that is growing at the mere thought of her.

“Fuck, man.”  Charlie’s voice cuts through my thoughts.  “Of course. Who the hell would I be if I didn’t come pick you up today of all days, for fuck’s sake?”  Charlie sighs then blows out a long uneven breath as he merges his Mercedes onto the freeway and we make our way west from the Federal Penitentiary that’s been my home for five years.

“Shit, gratitude is one of the only things I have left.,” I say, turning to face him.  “You never know. Doing time friends become scarce.  I’m not questioning you, man, I’m just saying...”  The silver scar on his right-hand flashes as he palms the wheel, and I remember when we were seventeen, the day we overturned my 1973 Mach II running from the police.  At the time, it seemed a logical course of action trying not to get caught running a trunk full of white lightning back to Michigan from Kentucky.

The back of Charlie’s hands show some new ink. He’s in a suit as well but he’s a few inches shorter than me.  More scrappy to my bulk but he can kick some ass in a fight. We’ve been there together and have the scars to prove it.  Chicks always were drawn to his charisma and even with the ink that covers most of his upper body he was always less ominous than me.  His hair is a lighter shade of brown that matches his eyes but under all that boy-next-door goodness is a man that takes no shit and is not afraid of anything.

He grins with a shrug. “It’s not like you killed someone, man.  Fucking bad business deal, just on an epic level.  People are fucking hypocrites.  Every one of them cheats on their taxes and is that not a federal offense?  You taking the fall for this shit—”

“It’s over I don’t want to fucking talk about it ever again,”  I grunt out, unwilling to look backward at that part of my life.  You can’t live in the past. If life’s taught me one thing, it’s that.  Even if you want to, not an option. 

“No problem.” My sharp words don’t give him pause. Same old Charlie. “Well, you look good, man.  You spent some time hitting the iron.”

I shrug my shoulders.  He’s right. Working out and thinking of her are the only two things that kept me alive.

“Hey.”  He reaches inside his jacket pocket. “I got you this.”

He hands me a gleaming silver 1947 Seydel harmonica.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“An antique shop a few weeks ago.  You still play?”

“Haven’t for five years.”  There’s a warmth in my chest gathering.  Stupid little things, but playing the harmonica has been something I missed. Won my first one when I was ten on a dare with Lucius Bennington when he said I couldn’t climb the watertower in town all the way to the top.  No one should ever tell me I can’t do something, they will lose.  I’ve been playing that stupid little thing ever since.  I used to play for Mia and that memory snaps sadness into the moment.  “Thanks man.”

“You’re welcome.  Least I could do.”  Charlie eases the car around a truck and accelerates.  “So, what’s the plan?  Where you gonna stay? Since you so politely refused my offer of an accommodation at my place, I guess you’ve got something lined up.”

I rub my palms down the tops of each thigh.  The prison released me with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Charlie brought me a new suit, shirt and tie to put on which I did immediately when we stopped at the first place with a john.  No way was I going back out into the world dressed like a thug.  I’m still me, I’m back and I intend to pick up where I left off.  First thing on my agenda is pulling out any resources I have to find her.

Charlie would give his left nut for me, I know that. He’d bury a body for me with no questions asked. But I got myself into this and I’m going to get myself out. I’m not going to take any handouts. 

I check out the floor mat for a long second before answering, unable to keep my thoughts from her. Where she is. If she’s okay. How fucking much I miss her.

How many times I’ve fantasized about bending her over that day and taking what was mine right there. Maybe it would have changed the course of events.  Life is weird, one small change and everything could have been different. Thoughts of flipping up her skirt, pulling aside those drenched white panties, gripping her black hair in one hand and sinking every inch of my hard-on home, right where it belongs.  All the while listening to her moan as she creams all over my throbbing cock. What difference would a day make, right? 

It made all the difference.

Even now, the catch in my chest is the same.  The rise in my dick at the flash of her smile in my memory.  I clear my throat and focus on answering his question.  “I rented a place. A house over on Wisconsin. It’s plenty for now.”

Charlie squints one eye and screws up his face.  “That so?  Fucking nice digs over on Wisconsin. How the fuck did you rent a place like that right out of federal prison?”

“Cash.  That’s how.  There are still those in the world that will forgo a credit score, a clean record and a background check in lieu of three times the going rate for rent. Quick bank transfer in cash. Pre-paid for a year. I may have lost almost everything, but I still have a couple Benjamins to rub together that the Feds didn’t take. Enough to try to get something new started.  Nothing compared to what...”  I let that last bit go.  I don’t care anymore.  “I also picked up a nice 1969 Camaro. The realtor happened to have one for sale and we negotiated that as part of the package.  It’s waiting at the house so you won’t have to drag my ass around after today.”

Charlie chuckles. “That’s cool.  But I would, you know.”

“I know you would.  But I need to stand on my own.”

What funds I had after the federal court took my plea agreement would still be considered living better than ninety percent of the people in this country.  I know because I was one of them.  Growing up in a place where a can of corn and a loaf of bread had to make do for a week gives you a certain resilience.  So even though I lost almost everything, I’ve got more than most.

Charlie is nodding. “True that.”  He accelerates down the interstate.  “There’s something else I need to tell you.”  He clears his throat and shifts his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.  My gut starts to turn.  Charlie could stare down ten mothers-in-law armed with Uzi’s and not look nervous, so whatever’s got him spooked can’t be good.

“What’s wrong?”

He rolls his head around on his neck and my impatience escalates. 

“Charlie, fucking spill, man.”

“Okay, just don’t freak out.  Okay?” He glances over, but when he sees the look in my eye his focus returns to the road and he keeps talking.  “So, okay, look, on a whim I... Well, look, I drove by the house this morning...on my way to get you, I just thought I’d swing by the house.”

“The house?”  My voice thickens as a heaviness blankets me.

“Yeah.  I mean, I’ve kept up on my drive-bys for you, you know?  Hell, of course, you know.” He laughs nervously at his own stupidity.  “Almost five years, dude, just like you said.  Drive past her house, update you whenever you get another fucking phone call.  I must have driven past that place every fucking week, yeah?  Always the same.  Nothing.  Nada.  They disappeared off the face of the earth that day the feds came for you.  Gone with the fucking breeze.  The house stayed empty, looking more and more haunted every time I swung by.”

He stalls on a breath, his fingers stretching out, then curling tightly around the steering wheel again.

“Fucking spit it out!”  There is a pressure building in my ears.  A choking sensation nestles around my throat.

“Okay, man, Jesus. Look, today....”  He sighs, looks over at me then thinks better of it and stares down the road, shaking his head.  “Okay, so the gate was open.  So, I pulled in just beyond the gate to see.  And there’s a car up by the front door.  A taxi. Well, a van sort of taxi thing. And...” Another breath.  Another pause.

“Charlie, I fucking swear to Christ if you take one more dramatic pause I’m going to hurt you.”

“Fuck, okay.  Look, I saw her.  Mia.  She came out of the house, can’t mistake her, man.  Went to the van and the side doors opened.  Then, she pushed someone in a wheelchair into the house.  That was it.  She’s back man.  Mia’s back.”