The windows are down, and this Georgia heat in August is relentless. My white tank is so soaked that it sticks to me like a second skin. As I lift my hair off my shoulders for a little reprieve from the heat, I can see Matt peering over at me from the driver’s seat. He adjusts himself, and I have to look away. I met him at the truck stop across from the Greyhound station in Atlanta about twenty miles back. I had taken the bus from Los Angeles and was looking for a place to plot my next move. I had just sat down to eat my stale, store bought hot dog since I had already eaten all the food I packed for the ride when he asked if he could join me. My first instinct was to say no, but seeing as I only had $314 left to my name, I decided to see what he had to say. He looked in his forties, his plaid shirt and jeans looked as if they could use a wash, and his unkempt hair could use some taming. Every feature I catalogued screamed ax murderer, but I was desperate. I knew before he offered that I would ask to catch a ride with him. Yes, I’d hit rock bottom. My goal was to get to a place more affordable than Atlanta. As soon as he asked where I was headed, I coyly said wherever he was headed. I told him that I could give him some gas money; I just hoped he didn’t want a lot. He told me not to worry about the money—that he’d give me a lift to as far as he was headed, which was Memphis. It may not have been my brightest idea to date, but here I am.
I inch closer to the door of the cab to allow the breeze to blow against my sun-beaten face.
“Sorry. The air is broken,” Matt apologizes. “I have to get that fixed. It will be a lot better once the sun goes down.” He smiles and then spits tobacco dip into a Solo cup.
Ugh, even his smile is creepy. I have an unsettling feeling in my stomach, and it’s not just the soreness from the beating I took a few days ago. My fight or flight instincts are telling me I made the wrong decision getting in this 18-wheeler. I couldn’t even jump from here without breaking my neck in the process.
“It’s okay. I’m just grateful for the ride.” I muster a half-smile in return before putting my head back out of the window.
“So what’s your story?”
“What do you mean?” I don’t like where this is going. A free ride doesn’t mean he gets to dig into my personal life.
“Well, you obviously don’t have a set destination in mind, and you don’t have luggage besides that there backpack,” he says, pointing at my only possession tucked away by my feet.
“No story. Nothing to discuss,” I reply abruptly. I don’t want to come off as rude, but that part of my life isn’t up for discussion.
“Whatever you say. You’re …” he trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t try to engage me again. We ride in silence for hours until I finally drift off to sleep.
My head is near the gear shift, so at some point, I must have sought refuge from the sun. I raise my head to Matt staring at me like a creeper and licking his lips. The truck has come to a halt. We’ve parked at some convenience store. The gas pumps look ancient, and their sign is crooked like those seen in horror films. The parking lot is vacant, so I question if this place is even open. The store is dimly lit, so I can’t see if anyone is inside.
“Are you hungry, sleeping beauty? I know I am.” He winks at me, and my skin crawls. Wait, I don’t think he is talking about food, or is he?
“I’m okay,” I fib. I’m trying to save as much money as I can until I know what I’m going to need for a motel once we arrive in Memphis. Only the thought of food makes my stomach growl on cue. Perfect timing. No way he missed that.
“I can feed you if money is an issue. I’ll just put it on your tab.”
This time, he gives me an exaggerated wink to make sure I got whatever hint he is throwing out. What freaking tab? We never discussed a tab or me owing him anything. He said he didn’t want my money, and I’m sure whatever he has in mind that I owe him, I’m not willing to give. After money, what else could there be? Damn, the ride is over. I can’t stick around to find out what his idea of repayment entails.
“Get whatever and I’ll meet you back here in five,” I lie. There is no way in hell I’m getting back in this truck. I grab my backpack off the floor and open the door to the cab. I climb down quickly before he can come around and offer any assistance. He got a handful of my ass helping me into the cab of the truck, so I’m not falling for that again. It didn’t help that my shorts are so short. I cut them from a pair of old raggedy jeans that were a tad too short for me, and I misjudged the length. I go into the store that is indeed open, but it’s one of those where the bathroom is on the outside and you have to get the key from the cashier. I’m not sure if you have to be a paying customer to use the facilities, so I buy a pack of cheap gum and ask for the key. The pimple-faced kid behind the register grins and hands me the key. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact he is checking me out. In fairness, I don’t look very wholesome at the moment. Between my tank and the shorts, I’m sure I look like a street walker. I graciously take the key from him and hightail it out of there.
I can’t say I’m surprised at how filthy the bathroom is. I shut the door quickly and lock it behind me. The stench alone is enough to make me hold my bladder if I actually had to pee. This place could definitely use a makeover and thorough cleaning. I look at myself in the dingy mirror, and I still see traces of the woman Ethan created. Fake. I have a lot of work to do to undo the façade he deemed presentable, but for now, I can start with my hair. It’s pretty long, but Ethan liked thick, big hair or, should I say, porn star hair. The more volume, the better. I begin to remove my blond clip-on hair extensions. I never wanted to be this person. It was all for him. Everything. I’m deep in my mission of liberation when a pounding on the door startles me.
“Hey five-minute girl? Are you in there? It’s time to go.” It’s Matt. Either he’s already forgotten the made-up name I gave him, or he’s being sarcastic. Either way, I don’t answer. I pause with one hand still left in my hair, afraid to make a move. The door is locked, so he knows I’m still in here. I let my silence be a clue I’m not getting back in his truck, but he still bangs on the door a few more times.
“Fine, I’m leaving. Good luck finding someone else willing to give you a ride,” he yells. “Ungrateful bitch,” I hear him mumble as I guess he’s walking away.
I wait until I hear the familiar sound of his diesel starting and then driving away. I didn’t spot any other truckers around when I got out of his cab, or any cars, for that matter, but I won’t be in a hurry to jump in another one anyway. I consider myself lucky I made it this far without harm, so I don’t want to tempt fate a second time.
When I’m sure Matt, the perv, is long gone, and I’ve managed to strip out all my hair extensions, I head back to the counter to return the key to the cashier. He’s still wearing that cheesy grin on his face. Maybe they don’t get many people through here. I look around, and all I see in any direction is open fields.
“Excuse me. Can you tell me where the next closest city is from here?” I give him my brightest smile. I might as well get a head start with working on my Southern charm.
“Of course, pretty little lady. The next town is about twenty miles north. It’s called Hope Town. Smaller than Atlanta but still a decent size population.”
I want to ask why in the heck a gas station slash convenience store is in the middle of nowhere but decide against it. Probably better for business if you don’t have to compete with other stores. Not that I’ve seen much business since I’ve been here.
“Thank you.” I wave goodbye and turn to leave. I can feel his stare on my ass on my way out.
I readjust my backpack to put both straps on my shoulders. Twenty miles will give me time to think about what I’m going to do next. Right now, I’m flying by the seat of my pants or should I say shorts? In all my twenty years, I’ve never had to depend on just myself. I’ve never had to be a grown-up really. I walk for what seems like forever before I see a sign that says Hope Town 17 miles. That’s it? I’ve only covered three miles? The sun has long gone, and this road is bathed in darkness, but it is still hotter than hell. Not many cars have passed, but I’m kind of scared shitless of what is lurking in the shadows. Every crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers makes my heart race. At this rate, it will be daylight before I make it to the next town.
My fear is in overdrive—so much so that I almost don’t hear the pickup truck slowing down behind me. The lights blind me as I raise my hand to my forehead to squint. I can only make out a silhouette. I turn back around and pick up my pace. Maybe they’ll keep going. The truck speeds up just enough to keep up with my manic stride. The passenger window rolls down, and a male voice speaks.
“Where are you headed?” I just keep walking. Only my silent treatment doesn’t work as it did with Matt. “Can I give you a lift somewhere? It’s not safe for you to be walking alone on this dark road,” he tries again.
I’m a far cry from the friendly type, but I’m not a total dick either. I don’t know where this chick is headed dressed like that, but she is putting herself at risk to get raped. I saw the sway of her ass in those barely fucking there cutoffs, and my dick hardened immediately. Combine that with her huge braless tits straining against that white tank top, now that I can see her from the front, and she is a walking victim in the making. Her waist-length blond hair is wild as if she just finished an intense romp session. Is that it? Did some douche kick her out of his car because I’m pretty sure she didn’t walk from Atlanta. There is not another city around, so that must be it. She’s carrying a backpack so where is she heading?
The power walk she has going on is just making her breasts bounce more. I’m trying to be a decent human being here, but she is making that pretty damn difficult. She is pretending not to notice me, but she has to be scared. I need to change my approach.
“Look. Hope Town is about seventeen miles from here. Get in and let me get you off this road and somewhere safe.” Still no sign she has even heard me. “I’ll let you hold on to my wallet, which has my ID in it, my phone, and my pocket knife. I won’t harm you, so you can hold on to my things until I get you somewhere safe.” Finally, she stops and looks at me for the first time. Holy hell. She is gorgeous. Absolute fear blankets her features, but the moonlight illuminates just how pretty she is. Her youthful appearance is at odds with the rest of her. She exudes innocence and sweetness, but her body screams porn star.
“You’re not a serial killer or ax murderer, are you?” She speaks up. I want to laugh out loud, but I’m sure that won’t bode well with trying to get her in my truck. But c’mon, who would admit that if they were? Surely, she isn’t serious. She crosses her arms over her chest, and it takes everything in me not to let my eyes follow. She is actually waiting for an answer to that ridiculous question.
“I can promise you I’m not. My name is Beau Rivers, and I live in Hope Town.” I don’t have to ask if she’s from Hope Town. A beauty like her would be well known around such a small town. I haven’t had time to scroll through my list of prospects for sex because I’ve only been back in town for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t mind having a go at her. Hopefully, she’ll be around long enough for me to get that chance.
“Well, thank you for your generosity, mister. My name is Bleu. I guess a ride would be nice.” The way she says ride has my mind taking a trip straight to the gutter. I need to snap out of this lust.
“Well, hop on in,” I encourage.
“Can you give me the stuff you said first?” she asks timidly as she sticks her hand through the window of my truck. I don’t even know what possessed me to offer my personal shit to her. You don’t want a ride, then your loss. I couldn’t do it, though. I said the first thing that came to mind to ease her obvious fear. She has no idea how rare my generosity is.
“Sure,” I respond finally. I pull my phone from the cup holder, and my wallet with my pocket knife from the back pocket of my jeans to hand over. I’m not really worried about her making a run for it with my belongings. She can’t outrun me. She takes the items from me and then attempts to open the door with her free hand. The rust resists her pull. She has to yank a little harder to get it open, and fuck me, those tits of hers bounce freely against her tank. I have to look away as she finally gets in and slams the door.