Page 7 of Love You To Pieces

How charming.

Either he’s just that nervous about the situation, or he can’t handle his weed very well. Whichever it is, I find I don’t give a damn. While he’s not nearly as rude as Tyler, he’s the most annoyingly whiny man-child I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.

“How far are we from Wolf Lake?” Tyler asks, after a moment of us listening to Scotty’s heaves that end in whines from the other side of our car, still stuck at the side of the road.

The man in the passenger seat rolls his shoulders in an ambiguous shrug. “Twenty minutes or so, back that way.” He jabs his finger off in the direction we were heading to get back on the main road.

I knew we shouldn’t have gone drug shopping in rural Texas.

Sweeping that thought aside, I force myself to focus on the conversation, not wanting Tyler to sign us up for something very much not acceptable. But when he opens his mouth, thankfully Ariana is the first to answer.

“Honestly, no offense.” She offers them a grimacing, apologetic smile. “But I think we’ll just figure this out ourselves, unless you could give us a jump? Then we wouldn’t have to encroach on your night or space. It’s, uh”—she gestures towards the truck—“pretty packed in there, it looks like. And Scotty doesn’t do so well riding in a truck bed.”

Right on time, another heave punctuates her words. It may be unintentional, but he is the perfect excuse to explain why we can’t ride down a bumpy road, bouncing in the back of a pickup truck.

The passenger, to my surprise, doesn’t look particularly put out or offended. “Don’t have no jumper cables, sorry to say,” he says without missing a beat. “Wish we did, but it’s just not something we carry in the truck.”

As I watch, the back passenger window rolls down slightly, just enough to expose the top part of the man’s face. A plume of smoke wafts into the air, billowing upward, and I swear I can feel the man looking at me from inside the dark interior as he presumably takes another drag from his vape. Another puff of smoke trails upward in the air, blowing apart within seconds and disappearing from view.

The window rolls right back up, but not before I turn my eyes on the dark interior that I can see, and the pale, drawn face that’s just barely exposed inside. It’s none of my business what some rural rednecks think of me, but still…I don’t like this.

Hugging myself, I shake my head, shifting my weight as I do. Is it weird that these men don’t have jumper cables? To be fair, I don’t in my car either, but…

Well, I should know better than to rely on the kindness of strangers. In a poor area like this one, maybe the men in the car can’t afford cables, or they simply don’t care about helping anyone else whenever they’re out and about at nine thirty on a Texas desert back road.

Which, now that I think about it, is a little weird.

“We’ll figure it out.” Ariana’s smile is blinding, and Tyler jumps in with his own agreement, asserting himself as some mechanic who knows exactly how to get the car going without anyone’s help. It’s crap, but I’m not about to correct him. Anything that gets these guys to drive off is good enough for me.

The passenger grins and gives a rueful laugh. “Suit yourselves.” He shrugs, not trying to convince us otherwise. “Hope y’all have a safe night and get home quick.” He tips his hat at Ariana in a very theatrical, gentleman-like move before his window rolls up, the blacked-out glass obscuring his face once more. The truck revs once, then again. Black smoke puffs out of the tailpipe, and in seconds they’re gone, speeding down the flat Texas road with taillights fading from sight as they disappear behind what might be a hill, or a cliff, or hell, a UFO for all I know.

It’s impossible to see anything out here.

Tyler lets out an explosive breath and turns to scowl at both Ariana and me, much to my surprise. “What the hell?” he asks. “They could’ve given us a ride. Now someone is going to be walking until they get service. And it’s not me, damn it. I’m not leaving the car.”

“We aren’t riding with creepy strangers,” Ariana snaps back, her arms folding over her chest as she gives him an annoyed look. “I get that you aren’t a woman, but you could act like you have some common sense under that hair, Tyler.” She’s tired enough that she can’t hide the scathing tone of her words, and even Tyler looks at her like he wasn’t expecting the irritation coming out of her lips.

“Fine,” he sneers, throwing his arms up into the air. “Just…fine. If you two are going to be on your bullshit about all men are bad or whatever”—I can’t help my snort, wondering where he’s pulled that from and how long he’s been holding it in—“then one of you can start walking.”

Ariana opens her mouth, but she’s taken enough shots for the team tonight. “I’ll go,” I interject without hesitating. They both turn to me in the near-dark, their faces barely lit by the headlights from Tyler’s car on the shoulder.

“I can go with you.” But before Ariana has even finished, I’m shaking my head in disagreement.

“No, seriously. It’s all good.” I offer her a smile and reach up to pull my hair into a high ponytail that I keep looped up in itself; not quite a bun, but not quite a true ponytail either. I just need my hair off my neck in this clammy, uncomfortable night air.

Texas has never been on my bucket list for ‘top places to get lost at night,’ and after this, it’s definitely never going to be. But I offer Ariana a quick smile and a quicker wave before heading back to the car where my lightweight hoodie is still sitting on the seat. It’s not cold enough to need it, not at all, but that doesn’t stop me from tying it around my waist and grabbing my phone from the seat as well.

In the front passenger seat, Scotty retches, and when I look at him, it’s just in time to see him scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth to clean it, his face red and tear-streaked.

How charming.

“I’m going to walk,” I tell him. “Try to find service, or reach Wolf Lake. Whichever comes first.” God, I don’t want to be walking all night.

Scotty tries to say something, but he’s interrupted by another round of heaving. Stomach bile splatters the asphalt under the car, and an unfortunate glance in his direction reveals he’s already painted the ground with the blue smoothie he got from a gas station a few hours ago, before we broke down and this level of nausea started.

“Yeah, okay, buddy.” I reach out, as if to pat his shoulder, but then think better of it and retract my hand. “You, uh, you just hang in there.” His pale, wan smile is accompanied by tears running down his cheeks, sending a pang of sympathy through me.

Poor Scotty really deserves to find better friends and hobbies.