Chapter 2 (Roger)
The strange grinding noise starts near the end of my fourth day of driving. By now I'm sore from sleeping curled up in the back seat, starved from eating nothing but 99 cent fast food meals, and sick as hell from everything. I try to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually I can't ignore the fact that the car is slowing down no matter how hard I step on the gas. By now the noise is loud enough that I'm starting to worry the thing is going to burn up or explode.
I stop for a minute, get out, lift the hood up, peer inside. Who am I kidding. I don't know shit about mechanics. I was always the musician in high school. While the rest of my class was going to football games and watching monster truck rallies on TV, I was working my ass off at the local McDonalds and saving every penny for the red Fender glinting at me in the window of the music store I passed every day on the way home from school. I sigh, slam the hood shut, and get back in the car. Now the damned thing won't even start.
"Fuck," I mutter, then grab my jacket off the seat back and get out of the car again. The key gets stuck as I attempt to lock the door, and it takes me nearly ten minutes of twisting it around before it finally pops out.
It's early November, but it's starting to get really cold. I can see my breath even in the quickly fading light as I make my way along with side of the winding small town road my car has picked to break down on. It'll be just my luck if there's nothing around for miles.
After about twenty minutes I stumble upon a small gas station and practically cry with relief. The sign on the door proudly proclaims "Closed", but the lights are still on and I can see people inside. I go up to the clear glass door and knock on it. A girl comes over and points irritably at the sign hanging in the door. She's dressed in torn jeans and a black tanktop, no jacket despite the cold. Her short red hair looks like it's been styled with the grease from the cars she apparently works on—it sticks straight up at odd angles. I ignore the annoyance in her expression and motion for her to come out. She shakes her head and glares at me, but then undoes the chain lock and comes out.
"What." It's not a question, it's a statement.
"My car…it…died?" I say lamely, half tempted to simply go back and curl up in the back seat for the night.
The girl rolls her eyes at me.
"Well, obviously. You wouldn't be here if it hadn't."
I nod. The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with this girl. I don't have the energy for a fight right now.
"So where is this dead car?"
"Umm…I'm not sure," I say, realizing that it's true. I've forgotten to look for landmarks on my way here, and now it's so dark I'm not sure I could find my way back if I tried. "About twenty minutes up that road." I point. The girl shakes her head at me.
"What, did you run out of gas?"
"No!" I say indignantly. How dumb does this girl think I am?
She nods slowly, as though trying to decide whether to help or slam the glass door in my face and leave me out here to freeze my ass off all night.
"So are you going to help?" I ask impatiently.
"We're closed," she says, her eyes challenging me. "But maybe I'll make an exception. This time."
"So…then…"
She gestures bossily to an old battered black van that's parked beside one of the gas pumps. We walk over and I get in. The interior smells of beer and old leather. It's so powerful it nearly makes me sick.
It takes us fifteen minutes and several wrong turns to find my car. We don't talk on the way there except for me to give directions and get yelled at when they turn out to be wrong.
"Stay here," the girl orders when we pull over beside my car. She gets out and does something to the engine, then gestures for me to join her. "Start it."
I look at her skeptically, but then try the key in the ignition. It starts.
"That simple?" I ask incredulously, earning myself a scathing look in return.
"God," says the girl, "you're a guy. How can you possibly be so clueless about cars?"
I shrug.
"This is only temporary. You drive. Follow me back to the station. I'll work on it there."
I obey, and manage to get there in five minutes this time, avoiding all the wrong turns. We get out and the girl begins to examine my car again. I lean against the door and fidget with a loose thread on my jacket.
"So…do you own this place?" I ask, feeling awkward.
She rolls her eyes at me again.
"My dad does. He went home already."
"You live with him?"
She throws a wrench into her tool kit with a bang.
"No! God, do you have to be so nosy?"
"Sorry," I mutter. "Just curious. You know, if I have to be stuck here with you, I might as well know your name."
I realize how rude it sounds the minute the words are out of my mouth, but for some reason, this makes her laugh.
"Sam," she says simply. "You're cute."
The statement gives me a little jolt, but I try to tell myself it's nothing. She probably says this to every guy she sees.
"And you are…" Sam raises an eyebrow at me.
"Oh. I'm Roger." I reach to shake her hand, but she's up to her elbows in grease and shakes her head.
"Traveling?" she asks, grunting as she fiddles with something.
"Yeah," I answer abruptly. "You could say that."
"Running away then," she says, a hint of mischief in her voice.
"Yeah. That too."
Sam slams the hood shut and shakes her head. My heart sinks.
"This can't be fixed. At least not tonight." She wipes her hands on a stained rag and closes up her tool kit. I shiver and pull my jacket closer. Sam starts to walk away, then realizes I'm not following and raises an eyebrow at me.
"You gonna sleep in that car?"
I hadn't thought about that. I have barely enough money to pay for food and gas. A hotel is out. Not to mention the fact that I now have no mode of transportation.
"Well…um…I…" I stammer.
Sam's expression softens as she realizes I'm not joking. She tilts her head toward the black van.
"Come on. You can crash on my couch for tonight."
I shake my head, try to tell her I don't need any favors, but she won't hear of it.
"It's freezing out here, Roger," she insists. "You can't stay. You'll get sick."
I start to cough as she says it, almost as if my body is agreeing with her against my will.
"No," I say, but then I catch sight of her eyes in the late night fluorescent lights of the gas station.
Brown. Dark brown.
Something inside me breaks.
I follow her over to the van and get inside. Anything is better than another night alone.
Review please!
A/N: There'll be another chapter on Thanksgiving or around that time...the site upgrade forced me to post these closer together than I would have liked.