Beth's stomach sank as she imagined Jimmy—asleep, drooling against his own shoulder as the bus pulled away, no idea his girlfriend sat defeated behind a locked, grimy bathroom door, eventually waking up in Matamoros next to an empty seat, disoriented and probably panicked. She felt briefly irritated with the elderly couple that had clearly seen her in the store, wondered why they hadn't said anything to the bus driver, but then felt bad for the thought as she remembered their blank expressions as they'd stared at the sodas. They probably didn't remember she even existed at this point.
She turned on the clerk, "Why didn't you tell them to stop?"
His head jerked back slightly before he cleared his throat, "Believe it or not, kid, I wasn't exactly payin' attention to your whereabouts…"
"But, your key? I had your key." She knew it wasn't fair to accuse him, personally, but the patience she may have once prided herself on had all but vanished the moment she set foot in this store.
"Pffft…" he pressed his lips together. "Think that's the only one I ever had to get made? People either leave it in there or take it all the damn time."
"Ok." She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself back from the verge of hysteria. "Ok, I'll just call Jimmy. You have a phone I could use? I mean, please?"
"Naw."
Beth blinked. "Naw?" she imitated.
"Nuh-uh. Ain't got one. Just had the payphone out there, but that ain't been workin' for awhile..."
"You...you don't have a phone? What do you…? Where am I?"
"I don't know what fancy language they speak where you come from, but when I say I ain't got a phone, it means I ain't got a phone. If you need to make a call," he shifted his weight to his left, and flicked a hand toward the highway, "then your best bet is to flag someone down or see if they've got one over at Dale's."
"Dale's?"
The clerk narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where you from?"
Confused and highly annoyed, Beth quirked an eyebrow. "Georgia. Why?"
"They only ask questions out in Georgia?"
Forfeiting the idea it would be at all useful to continue hanging around this Twilight Zone vortex of a dump she'd had the misfortune of being stranded in, Beth pushed the door open and called out, "Thanks for nothin'."
She was about ninety-five percent sure she heard the man say, "Much obliged," as the door rattled shut.
Leaving the cover of the gas station, she walked quickly through the rain to the edge of the highway and peered down it in either direction. It was desolate, void of motion or sound. The only lights for what could've been miles came from directly across the street. A long, wood-panelled building shone with neon signs, most in the shape of Texas with beer logos stretched across the state's expanse. "Well," she voiced to the dark, "guess that's lucky compared to the rest of my day."
As she crunched through the gravelled parking lot and ducked beneath the jutting edge of the building's tin roof, she noted there were more motorcycles lined up in front of the bar than there were cars or trucks. She wondered if it was wrong of her, maybe even judgmental, to suddenly feel more afraid and alone at the sight.
A cloud of smoke and noise covered her as she shied her way through the entrance, practically stumbling forward as her eyes tried to adjust. Shoulders tense and raised, she blinked at the room. Beth had never in her life been inside a bar, and if she had at any point prior to this occasion imagined what it might be like—she had imagined; herself in a dress holding a sophisticated, colorful glass, while her companion, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Don Draper, looked on with complete and utter admiration—could now safely say it came nowhere even close to the reality of what she currently saw.
She had no idea grown men actually wore leather vests, or that despite how ridiculous such a wardrobe choice might seem in theory, turned out to be a pretty intimidating sight when faced with it in person and in such large numbers. People were laughing, booming and hoarse, as something shrill played from the jukebox.
A group of men near one of the pool tables stared at her for a moment, a couple of them laughing in low tones. She glanced around nervously as she continued to walk forward, arms crossed low at her waist. She had made it almost halfway to the bar when a thin woman with closely cropped grey hair waved her own cigarette smoke from Beth's path and asked, "Well, honey, are you lost?"
Beth's voice stuck for a moment, "I'm...I need to use a phone."
Her eyes narrowed in concern. "Are you okay? You're soaked through..."
"I was left here," she started, as the woman's eyes widened, "I mean, I was on a bus and we stopped just over there, the station across the street. It left without me."
The woman put her hand on Beth's shoulder, leading her toward the bar as she waved her arm and called out, "Dale! Dale, come here a sec!" She stooped a little to look at Beth, one hand still on her shoulder. "Ok, just...sit tight here for a minute, I'm gonna get you some help."
As Beth sat on the barstool she saw the woman place a hand flat against the chest of a very stout man as he approached. "Don't. Go on now, back where you came from."
He only flashed his teeth at her and put his hands up in surrender. Beth caught his eye for a moment and quickly looked down at her hands when he smiled. She had no idea how any of this was happening, and the back of her neck tingled and grew hot as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, beginning to feel almost angry with herself for acting like such a scared little girl. Wanting to be brave, or at least appear so, she quickly raised her chin and stared down across the length of the bar.
It took her a few moments to register the face staring back at her; eyes that looked halfway to sleep already, calm yet suspicious. It was the man from the store; the one who'd nearly knocked her down. The same terrible man who'd, if she really thought about it, started this whole horrorshow chain of events in the first place. Without even thinking, eyes locked with his and fingers gripping the edge of the bar, she silently mouthed, "Asshole."
He froze, lips parted and beer suspended midway to his mouth. The grey-haired woman appeared in front of Beth again, disrupting her stare down. She pushed a phone into her hand.
"C'mon, you can make your calls in the back office." She lit another cigarette, threw the lighter on the bar top, and waved Beth on. Following her lead, she made her way through the crowd toward the back of the room and around the far side of the bar. She spared a glance over her shoulder, scanning for her newfound enemy, but he had disappeared.
As they turned into a small room lined with cardboard boxes and stacks of paper, the woman said, "Oh, Carol, by the way."
"Beth," she smiled, sinking down onto a worn, floral-patterned couch just to the right of the door. She felt exhausted and began to shiver under the steady stream of air conditioning blowing down from overhead. The sight of her must've been pathetic, because Carol grabbed a jacket from a hook on the wall and held it out to her. She pressed her lips together with a nod, genuinely thankful she'd finally met someone with some decent manners around here. She slid the jacket over her shoulders, and dialed Jimmy's number.
The call went straight to voicemail and Beth's chest tightened. She tried again, and then again, with the same results. Beth stomped her foot on the cracked linoleum. "Shit!"
"Sure gotta pottymouth on you..."
Beth's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice. She narrowed her eyes. There he was, her enemy, leaning in an irritatingly casual manner against the door jamb.
He straightened himself and looked to Carol with a thrust of his chin. "Dale's askin' for you. Needs the storage keys."
Carol patted her jacket pocket and huffed in frustration. Just as he made to leave, she grabbed his arm, but pulled her hand away quickly as he flinched, eyes giving her a quick once-over.
"Sorry, just...could you stay here a minute? Two seconds! I'll be right back."
He crossed his arms, clearly offended. "Ain't no babysitter."
Carol leaned toward him. "This isn't exactly the place for her to be, is it?" It was a terse whisper, but Beth heard it anyhow.
He looked sideways toward the wall, as though he couldn't be bothered to give a full eyeroll, and let out a measured breath. "Two seconds."
He repositioned himself against the door as Carol headed down the hall. Beth kept her focus on the phone in her hands, trying not to let the complete hopelessness of the situation overwhelm her. Truthfully, she knew the phone was likely dead, the battery had been in the red for awhile by the time Jimmy stopped fiddling with it and fell asleep.
Wait, she thought. Beth punched in her own number and began bouncing her leg impatiently. "C'mon...answer, Jimmy. Pick up the phone." She called several times to no avail, aware of the curious glances the man kept throwing her from where he stood sentinel.
Giving up on the phone, she glared up at him. She said, "I'm not a baby," a little louder than she'd meant to; it seemed sort of weird, almost a non sequitur at this point.
The room became suddenly quiet as he stared back at her. He only made a noise, low, something like hm. He opened his mouth slightly like he might say something—something more than likely irritating as hell—but Carol came back into the room, shuffling in on a cloud of smoke and followed by a surprisingly pleasant looking older man with a white beard.
"Any luck?" she asked.
Beth shook her head, face impassive. The older man stepped forward then and extended his hand to her. "I'm Dale," he leaned back against his desk and continued, "So what exactly happened? Carol says you're stranded?"
Beth nodded. "I was on a bus from Atlanta. We stopped at that gas station across the street and I got locked in the bathroom...bus left without me."
She heard a snort come from just behind Carol and realized the man was still standing at the door, obviously entertained by her plight. Beth felt inclined to walk across the room and punch him square in the jaw if she thought it wouldn't break her hand to do it.
She cleared her throat, "My boyfriend was asleep when I got off. His phone's dead and can't seem to get him to answer mine. Could still be snoring for all I know. He's got no idea…"
"Where were you headed?" Dale asked.
"Matamoros by tonight. We were gonna take another bus out in the morning, head farther south. Some friends of Jimmy's—my boyfriend—they were supposed to meet up with us."
"The border's not far from here…" Carol said softly.
Dale bent his head in concern. "Is there anyone else you can call?"
Beth thought about her father and Maggie; the sheer mortification of being forced to call them, lost and scared somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, all because she couldn't manage to open a door or keep track of the time. Instead she'd been busy lamenting the state of her life—problems as small as they were—launching herself into some existential crisis over nothing, just like she was doing now. And what could they do anyway? Feel sorry for her? Figure out how to get her to the nearest plane? Bring her back home where they could keep her safe from her own poor judgment?
"No. There's no one. I just need to find a way to get there and meet up with Jimmy. That's all. Is there a cab or a, you know, like a car service I can call?"
The man by the door spoke up again, "Where you think this is? New York?"
"Why don't you take her, Daryl?" Carol's statement made everyone pause.
He raised both eyebrows and shook his head. "Huh? Nah, I ain't gettin' dragged into this…"
"It's only three hours from here, four at the most. Why not?" Carol seemed matter-of-fact.
Daryl stared at her plainly. "Been drinkin'."
Carol tilted her head with a look that seemed almost bored, as though they'd been through similar back and forths before.
He shrugged. "May not be three sheets to the wind yet, but I have. Besides, bike's out of commission." When she raised a brow in response, he explained, "Merle took it."
"So?" she shrugged. "You can just go in the morning."
"Go in what, woman? You know just as well as I do he's as likely to come home tomorrow as he is in a year or two. Why the hell don't you take her, if it's so important?"
"You know why. Think Ed would even—"
Dale cut off their bickering, "You can take the Winnie. I can bring it over first thing in the morning."
Daryl looked over sharply to Dale; gaped at him as though he'd just grown a second head. "Hell no."
"Daryl, what else have you got to do?" Dale said loudly, bending over at the hips.
Daryl pushed himself from the door jamb, shoulders squared and head bobbing. "Thangs! Plenty of 'em. And you know how much gas it'd cost to get that piece of shit all the way to—"
"I'll pay for it!" Beth had had enough of listening to these three. Her head hurt, her foot throbbed something awful, she was about to freeze near to death in this tiny refrigerator of a room, and all she wanted was a hot shower and a solid plan already.
They all stared at her. She cleared her throat. "And your time, of course. I'll pay you."
His nostrils flared slightly as he looked her up and down, sarcasm heavy with the movement. "You independently wealthy or something?"
"I've got a savings," she said with a lift of her chin.
He continued looking at her in the same manner, almost grinning when he repeated, "You've got a savings."
God, she wanted to smack him. But she wanted to get out of this place even more.
"Listen, I don't exactly relish the thought of being stuck with you for four hours of my life either, but I don't see I've got many options. Now I'm offering to pay you for your precious time, and the sooner I get to Mexico, the sooner you can go back to doing your thangs."
He chewed on his thumb and snorted out a breath, much like a bull; her little mock hadn't been lost on him. He assessed her for a moment, eyes moving quickly and curiously.
"How much?"
"Three hundred, plus gas," she tried. It was the first amount that came to mind.
He put a thumb under his chin and crooked his index finger over his mouth in consideration. He made that noise again, that hm, and before he could open his mouth or chance to speak, Beth panicked.
"Ok, five hundred!" She blurted out.
He quirked an eyebrow and muttered, "Might wanna refrain from bargainin' for the rest of your stay..."
"What?"
"Nothin'. Three hundred's fine." He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned, "Lord, help me."
Dale sighed and clapped his hands together. "Alright, that's settled. I'll drop it off about eight o'clock. Got some cleaning to do over here in the morning anyway."
"Wait," Daryl spun back around and faced Beth. "Where am I supposed to pick you up at?"
Beth looked from Carol to Dale. Somehow, in her exhaustion and frustration, she'd not even considered the immediately pressing matter of where she'd stay for the night.
Carol looked from Beth to Daryl with that same bored expression again. She sighed, "Well, obviously…"
"You bein' serious?" Daryl put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor.
"What?" Beth asked, looking between the two.
He glanced up at her and chewed the edge of his thumb for a brief moment before shaking his head and turning back toward the hallway. "Well, come on then, Daddy Warbucks. I'll show you to your palace."
AN: Whew. Heavy on the dialogue, I realize. My apologies, but I've got to get these two moving. Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews, especially those of you reviewing as guests, as I don't have a way to respond. Hope you've enjoyed so far :)