AN: You know it, I know it, the American people know it. I don't own Kevin Smith's characters
in any way. I don't own the rights to any Beatles songs, either.
ChApTeR 7
The train just entered Nevada just as the sun rose up over the hilly horizon. Bethany stirred in her
sleep, but didn't wake. Jay sat on the bench seat across from her, watching her sleeping. She was
on her side, one arm across her stomach, hair falling gently across her neck. Jay continued to
watch her. Hell, yes, he still wanted to fuck her, but he wanted more than that. This was a new
sensation for him. After everyone else had gone to sleep last night, Bob had told Jay what he had
observed since they first met Bethany. "Jay, man, you got it bad for her."
"Damn right I do. She's hot."
"No. I think you love her, man. I've been watching you this whole trip we've had. You've barely
taken your eyes off her. Tone down your language and behavior, and she might actually give you
a chance."
Jay was actually silent for a moment. He even appeared to be THINKING. "You mean it, Bob?"
"Hell, yes." And then Bob reclaimed his title of 'The Silent One,' quieting, and lighting up a cigarette.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bartleby awoke before Tzipora that morning, the early morning sunlight falling across his face. He
carefully untangled himself from Tzipora and went into the bathroom to relieve himself and take a
long, hot shower. About twenty minutes later, he came out, a towel around his waist. Tzipora was
still sleeping, snoring lightly, curled up on the messy bed. Bartleby grinned, sitting on the bed next
to her, sliding his fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back. Later, when she woke, he'd
keep the promise he had made to her last night. But for right now, he had to leave the room. He
was hungry, and wanted breakfast.
He walked back to the main office of the motel after dressing and asked the manager if he had a car
he and Tzipora could rent for a while. The old man said he did, and would rent it to them for five
dollars an hour. Luckily, Bartleby had thought enough to bring some of Tzipora's money with him
and gave the old man some for the rent. The manager, introducing himself as Jack Phillips, led
Bartleby to an ancient-looking truck parked behind the office. Rust was everywhere. Jack laughed
at the doubting look on Bartleby's face. "She runs, my boy, though she may not look like it. I just
filled it up the other night. Be careful and enjoy," he said, handing Bartleby the key.
"Thanks, I'm sure I will," Bartleby said, taking the key and climbing into the truck. He started it up
and waved to the old man as he went back into his office. Taking a deep breath, the former angel
put the truck in reverse, then pulled forward onto a rural highway without hitting anything.
"Maybe I should've told him that I've never driven before," Bartleby thought aloud. Adjusting his
mirror slightly, he looked back on his and Tzipora's lodge. He smiled, then turned on the radio. It
was on an oldies station, and they were playing the Beatles' "Eight Days A Week," a song he
happened to love. "Hold me, love me, hold me, love me...I ain't got nothin' but love, babe, eight
days a week," he sang along. He managed to stay inside the lines on the road for the most part,
thankful there was no other traffic near him. He cautiously pulled into the parking lot of the diner
where Tzipora and he had eaten the night before and parked the truck, turning it off. He went into
the little diner, found a seat, and ordered scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast for breakfast. His
waitress was a young girl, no more than eighteen years old, and she happened to arouse Bartleby.
Thankfully, the table hid his excitement. 'There's always a period of adjustment,' he thought as he
devoured his meal. He savored every bite. When he finished, he ordered a meal to go for Tzipora,
paid the bill, and started his return trip to the motel. And he didn't crash again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bethany woke up about an hour later, yawning, stretching, and gasping when she saw Jay staring at
her. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Um...Serendipity got up for breakfast a while ago and asked me to stay here with you until you
woke up," he lied, in what he thought was a convincing way. Bethany, of course, didn't buy it.
"Whatever," she sighed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. After a few more moments of feeling
Jay's eyes on her, she asked, "What? Why are you looking at me so intensely for?"
"I...I think I love you," Jay whispered.
in any way. I don't own the rights to any Beatles songs, either.
ChApTeR 7
The train just entered Nevada just as the sun rose up over the hilly horizon. Bethany stirred in her
sleep, but didn't wake. Jay sat on the bench seat across from her, watching her sleeping. She was
on her side, one arm across her stomach, hair falling gently across her neck. Jay continued to
watch her. Hell, yes, he still wanted to fuck her, but he wanted more than that. This was a new
sensation for him. After everyone else had gone to sleep last night, Bob had told Jay what he had
observed since they first met Bethany. "Jay, man, you got it bad for her."
"Damn right I do. She's hot."
"No. I think you love her, man. I've been watching you this whole trip we've had. You've barely
taken your eyes off her. Tone down your language and behavior, and she might actually give you
a chance."
Jay was actually silent for a moment. He even appeared to be THINKING. "You mean it, Bob?"
"Hell, yes." And then Bob reclaimed his title of 'The Silent One,' quieting, and lighting up a cigarette.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bartleby awoke before Tzipora that morning, the early morning sunlight falling across his face. He
carefully untangled himself from Tzipora and went into the bathroom to relieve himself and take a
long, hot shower. About twenty minutes later, he came out, a towel around his waist. Tzipora was
still sleeping, snoring lightly, curled up on the messy bed. Bartleby grinned, sitting on the bed next
to her, sliding his fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back. Later, when she woke, he'd
keep the promise he had made to her last night. But for right now, he had to leave the room. He
was hungry, and wanted breakfast.
He walked back to the main office of the motel after dressing and asked the manager if he had a car
he and Tzipora could rent for a while. The old man said he did, and would rent it to them for five
dollars an hour. Luckily, Bartleby had thought enough to bring some of Tzipora's money with him
and gave the old man some for the rent. The manager, introducing himself as Jack Phillips, led
Bartleby to an ancient-looking truck parked behind the office. Rust was everywhere. Jack laughed
at the doubting look on Bartleby's face. "She runs, my boy, though she may not look like it. I just
filled it up the other night. Be careful and enjoy," he said, handing Bartleby the key.
"Thanks, I'm sure I will," Bartleby said, taking the key and climbing into the truck. He started it up
and waved to the old man as he went back into his office. Taking a deep breath, the former angel
put the truck in reverse, then pulled forward onto a rural highway without hitting anything.
"Maybe I should've told him that I've never driven before," Bartleby thought aloud. Adjusting his
mirror slightly, he looked back on his and Tzipora's lodge. He smiled, then turned on the radio. It
was on an oldies station, and they were playing the Beatles' "Eight Days A Week," a song he
happened to love. "Hold me, love me, hold me, love me...I ain't got nothin' but love, babe, eight
days a week," he sang along. He managed to stay inside the lines on the road for the most part,
thankful there was no other traffic near him. He cautiously pulled into the parking lot of the diner
where Tzipora and he had eaten the night before and parked the truck, turning it off. He went into
the little diner, found a seat, and ordered scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast for breakfast. His
waitress was a young girl, no more than eighteen years old, and she happened to arouse Bartleby.
Thankfully, the table hid his excitement. 'There's always a period of adjustment,' he thought as he
devoured his meal. He savored every bite. When he finished, he ordered a meal to go for Tzipora,
paid the bill, and started his return trip to the motel. And he didn't crash again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bethany woke up about an hour later, yawning, stretching, and gasping when she saw Jay staring at
her. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Um...Serendipity got up for breakfast a while ago and asked me to stay here with you until you
woke up," he lied, in what he thought was a convincing way. Bethany, of course, didn't buy it.
"Whatever," she sighed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. After a few more moments of feeling
Jay's eyes on her, she asked, "What? Why are you looking at me so intensely for?"
"I...I think I love you," Jay whispered.