I get the distinct sense he would rather change the topic of conversation. A long moment passes before I tell him, ‘I had no idea.’
‘We talked about goin’ into business together one day. Like having our own auto shop. I think even Chase got kinda jealous of our friendship.’
My face falls, mixed emotions in my chest. I have no fond memories of my high school bully. ‘Chase? Does he still have that weird haircut?’
AJ breaks out into a grin that makes my heart flutter. It’s like somebody’s flipped a switch and I’m back to worshipping him again.
‘Yeah,’ AJ says. ‘Yeah, he does.’
When our food arrives, we eat quickly and in silence.
‘You said that night in Canyon that you had a brother called Noah,’ AJ says.
I listen to the hiss of the coffee machine over by the counter and think about what to tell him. It’s been a while since I’ve talked about my brother to anyone. ‘Just after I moved to America, the first time,’ I say, ‘He came out to me. He’d met a guy at college and fallen hard for him. But the whole ‘being gay’ thing didn’t sit well with Evelyn. Didn’t fit in with her mayoral election campaign, or her so-calledtraditional values. Noah came to visit over that summer. He’d broken up with the boyfriend, and he started seeing a local guy from Canyon. Evelyn went ballistic. Didn’t want the press finding out about it. It culminated in a bunch of family arguments, so Noah left and said he wouldn’t be coming back. My dad did nothing to stop him from leaving because he’s under Evelyn’s thumb and doesn’t know how to stand up to her.’
‘Where is your Noah now?’
‘California. Blissfully happy, I’d imagine. I worry that he hates me.’
AJ finishes his mouthful. ‘I doubt that.’
He wipes his mouth and hands on a paper napkin, then goes over to the counter to collect a breakfast sandwich for Noah. I watch him pay the bill.
The next thing I know, his hand is hovering underneath my nose. ‘You got your car keys?’ he asks me.
I cease chewing the last of my toast and raise my brow.
‘I wanna check your tires before we head back out on the road. Check your oil and water too. And your pressures. And I’ll fill her up with gas.’
I dig around in my pocket, then drop my key fob in his palm.
‘I don’t trust that heap of junk you call a vehicle. Wouldn’t want you to break down on the way to Santa Fe.’
‘Oh. Right. Thank you.’ I yawn.
‘You’re not gonna fall asleep at the wheel, are you?’ AJ asks me, and I wonder if it’s out of genuine concern for my welfare. That’s unlikely.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I clip. ‘Do I follow you?’
‘We’ll stay on the Interstate, get on the eighty-seven at Eden. Head north, cross the state line. Stay close to me. We can stop a couple times.’
He pulls on his leather jacket, the one I saw him win at Scotch & Smoke. I hate that the sight of him ties my insides in knots.
Not long after, once we’ve herded Noah back into my car, from my rearview mirror, I watch AJ pull on his helmet in the dim half-light of dawn. The sound of him starting his bike, and the low rumble and engine revving that follows, reminds me that we really are smuggling a human fugitive across the state line.
I swallow tightly, because I realize that I am complicit in breaking the law.
In the back seat, Noah’s already back to snoring under the blanket. I reverse the car. There’s a moment before we turn, where I see the sun, about to peek, the horizon glowing the color of blood red orange, the sky above laced with thin clouds. And in the near distance, is the silhouette of a male figure on his motorcycle.
I know in my heart, even if he is paying me, that I wouldn’t have agreed to do this for just any man.
Around ten a.m, in the back seat, Noah bolts upright, his hair sticking up at all angles. I’d opened the window because I was overheating, and my car’s AC appears to be packing up.
He squints, then looks up ahead, to where AJ is riding in front of us.
My legs ache.
‘Would you like some water?’ I ask, holding up my bottle behind my right shoulder.
