June 2002
Jasper, Louisiana
Jasper, Louisiana, in July was as hot as hell and as close as a tick on a retriever. But school was out for the summer, and as far as Randi Rader was concerned, that made up for it—and pretty much everything else, too. As far as she was concerned, school was a total waste of time.
“I’m goin’ out!” she called from the double-wide’s open screen door. Not waiting for a response, she darted into the buggy night. She ducked out of sight between two trailers as her mother’s voice pierced the night.
“Damnation, girl, you get back here! Like, right now!”
Randi angled right, heading for the path that led to a shortcut to the main road. Her brothers had said they’d pick her up by the power station at eight sharp, warning her they wouldn’t wait. Her brothers, she knew, meant it. If she were one minute late, she’d have to find herself another ride.
She checked her watch. It was gonna be tight, and she picked up her pace. The spot came into view; a truck was waiting. But not her brother’s. A bright red, Ford F-150.
Only one truck like it in Jasper. Belonged to Billy Boman, a friend of her brothers. She sidled up to the driver’s side. He leaned his head out. “Hi’ya, sweet thing.”
“Hey, Billy-Bo,” she said, flashing him her best flirty smile. “What you doin’ here?”
“Waiting on you.”
“Me?”
“Your brothers told me to come pick you up.”
Figured. But she asked anyway. “Why didn’t they come?”
“You know Wes and Robby, they always got something going on. You gonna hop in, or what?”
Billy-Bo was irritating but harmless. She supposed the thing that turned her off about him was the way he sweated—a lot and all the time, no matter the weather.
She felt kind of sorry for him, ’cause he couldn’t help it. She’d heard a couple teachers talking about it; they said it was a glandular problem.
Randi had big brown eyes and she knew how to angle them, just so, to get a reaction out of a guy, and she practiced on Billy-Bo. “I don’t know if I should?”
“Aww, come on. I’ve got a cooler full of Dixie long necks. Maybe you want to party?”
“Sounds like a good time. Coming around, Billy.”
Randi climbed in and he handed her a beer. “Opener’s in the console,” he said, pulling onto the road, spitting up gravel as he did. She reached for the opener and saw that wasn’t the only thing stashed in there—he had a baggie of weed, not much but enough to get the both of them good and high.
This night was looking better and better. Randi popped the cap and took a long swallow; the ice-cold brew slid down her throat and she shivered.
“How you doin’ tonight?” she asked.
“Can’t complain. It’s Saturday night.”
“Hell yeah, it is.”
“How about some tunes?” he asked and turned on the radio.
Toby Keith’s new song roared through the speakers, and she sang along between swallows of beer.
Billy-Bo cut her an amused glance. “Robby told me you got into some trouble recently.”
She drained her first beer and reached for another, then popped off the cap. “Yeah, asshole cops caught me drinking and raised all kinds of hell.” She snorted. “Threatened to get me sent off to juvie.”
“That blows.”
“No shit. Mama’s all over me like white on rice. I’m under—” she made quotation marks with her fingers, spilling some beer on her shirt in the process “—house arrest.”
“So how’d you get out tonight?”
“Waited until Mama got in the bath. Besides, what’s she gonna do, call the cops on me? I don’t think so.”
“Suppose not.” He took a swallow of his beer. “Heard your daddy’s back in jail.”
She stiffened. Good ol’ boy “Pops” Rader had gone on another bender and gotten himself incarcerated. Again.
“Yeah,” she snapped. “What about it?”
“Not a thing, sugar. Just makin’ conversation.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about him or anything else that sucks.” She downed her second beer, stuck the empty in the cooler, and grabbed another.
He eyed her. “Maybe you want to slow down?”
“Hell, no!” She raised her arms and hooted. “I like to go fast!”
He laughed and depressed the accelerator; the truck surged forward. Away from Jasper. Away from the crappy double-wide on the wrong side of the tracks, her beaten-down mother, and all those folks who thought they knew everything.
Randi took another long draw on the beer. Far, far away … that’s where she wanted to go. Someplace nobody looked at her that way again. Like she was trash, a no-good girl from a no-good family and going nowhere damn fast.
California, she thought. Yes, ma’am, that’s where she’d go, the minute she got the chance.
Another one of her favorite songs came on and she cranked it up and began to sing, loudly and off-key. The miles passed and the brew worked its magic. Light-headed, she leaned her head against the seat back and gazed at the summer sky.
The music turned from rockin’ to mellow, and Billy-Bo pulled onto a side road and stopped the truck. He cut the engine, but left the radio on. The mood in the truck’s cab changed, and Randi figured she knew what was coming next.
She was right.
“Why’re you way over there?” He patted the seat beside him. “Come on over, sweet thing.”
Billy-Bo didn’t do a thing for her but she was drinking his beer and riding in his truck, so she supposed she owed him and a few kisses … maybe even a little tongue; it wouldn’t kill her.
Randi slid across the bench seat and he started in, straight up. Pressing her back into the seat, mouth open, tongue writhing. He didn’t taste too bad, she told herself, like a combination of Dixie and Juicy Fruit. She played along, acting like she was into it.
Until he stuck his hand under her shirt. At first she tried to be subtle, moving this way or that, letting him know without words she didn’t want that, but he didn’t get the message.
She grabbed his hand, and attempted move it. “Stop, Billy-Bo.”
“Aw, baby, don’t say that. You know you like it.”
“No, I—”
“Don’t be such a cocktease.”
When she tugged on his hand again, he shoved his other up the leg of her short-shorts, finding her panties.
She jerked. “No, stop! Don’t—”
“C’mon, Randi, you’ve been fucking since you were twelve.”
Is that what he thought? She was too shocked to respond. She’d gone to third base this last year, but only that once.
He jammed his hand farther up and she felt his fingers pushing at her panties, then sinking into her. “I knew you liked it,” he said against her ear, pressing her back against the seat, breath hot against her neck. “You’re all ready for me, aren’t you?”
It felt like he was trying to swallow her face with his mouth. His tongue lapped at hers and his giant hands were like lobster claws pinching at her breast and vulva.
His weight was suffocating. Panic rose up in her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight. Tears welled in her eyes. This wasn’t right. She didn’t want … her first time, like this? With Billy Boman forcing himself? He’d tell everyone they did it … that she’d liked it. That she begged for more.
Hell, no, it wasn’t going down that way. “Stop,” she managed again. “I’m gonna be sick, Billy-Bo! I can’t breathe. I think I’m gonna throw up!”
He was off her in a flash. As she scooted over the open console, she had an idea. “Don’t look!” she cried bringing her hand to her mouth.
He jerked his face the other way. “Just don’t puke in my truck!”
Randi grabbed the bag of weed, threw the cab door open and leapt out. She slammed the door behind her, ran to the side of the road, but instead of throwing up, she spun to face him.
“No means no, you big, sweaty jerk!”
Surprise registered on his face, then fury. “What … you were faking it?”
“Not the part about being disgusted by you. But the part about being sick? Yeah, faking that.”
He turned red. “You think you’re so smart? How you going to get home, cocktease? Huh? Maybe you should have thought of that!”
She flipped him the bird. “Screw you, Billy Boman! You better watch out, my brothers are gonna kick your ass for this!”
He laughed and started up the F-150. “Stupid little bitch! Why d’you think they had me pick you up?”
“Liar!” she shouted as he drove away. She bent and scooped up a handful of gravel and hurled it after the truck. “Asshole!”
It wasn’t until his taillights disappeared from sight that she realized he’d had a point. How was she going to get home now? No phone. No flashlight. And she didn’t even know where the hell she was.
It didn’t matter, she decided, starting to walk. She had his pot and he was gonna be so pissed when he realized it. She smiled and patted her shorts pocket. And anything was better than trapped in that truck being pawed by that freak.
Well, maybe not anything, she thought thirty minutes later. It was hot and buggy, and walking in her flimsy flip-flops was damn near impossible.
When headlights came around the curve up ahead, she jumped up and down, waving her arms.
Please stop … please … please …
For a moment, she thought they were going to fly on by her. Then the brake lights lit up and the car pulled to a stop at the side of the road.
Randi ran up to the car. The driver lowered his window; the smell of pot rushed over her in a cloud.
A young guy in a University of Alabama baseball cap. A girl riding shotgun.
“Need a ride?” the guy asked.
“Sure do.”
“Your car break down?” the girl asked.
“I was riding around with one of my brothers’ friends and he kicked me out, told me to walk home.”
The driver tugged his ball cap a little lower. “Now why’d he go and do something like that?”
Billy’s words—cocktease—played in her head. These two were obviously older and more experienced. The last thing she wanted was them thinking of her as a stupid little virgin. “We just had a disagreement over something, that’s all.”
“Where’re you trying to get to?”
“Home. Jasper.”
“Well, we’ll be heading that way later,” he said. “Right now we’re heading to a spot I know to have ourselves a party. Want to join us?”
Randi looked at the other girl and she smiled. “The more the merrier.”
“Hell yeah, I would.”
“Hop on in, then.”
Randi didn’t have to be asked a second time. She yanked open the door and climbed in.