Author's Note: I'm a junior! And it's summer. Yay.

So here's the part where I reveal how much of a review addict I am. I'm going to sell out. Sort of. So here's the deal. You guys gave me 12 reviews for Chapter 2. I liked that number. If I get more than 10 reviews for 4 consecutive chapters (that's roughly a month at the rate I've been posting), then I'll write a separate one-shot for you. You give me scenarios, I pick a couple and write. If I get more than 15 reviews per chapter for two chapters, I'll do the same thing. Tell me what you guys think.

Ground rules, though. I will not write slash. I just don't see it as being in character. And I'm not promising any terribly graphic smut, though I will write love scenes if asked. Beyond that…pretty much anything is up for grabs.

Also, this will have no impact on the posting of this fic. Because I hate it when authors threaten not to post anymore. It's just…not right.

That said, this chapter is all OC based. Hope you guys don't mind. I will, of course, still be following our trusty movie characters in the next several chapters.

If you're still with me at this point, you get cookies. The two references in that last chapter were obviously Star Wars, and the hole in the floor of the car from Where the Heart is.

Chapter 4

Fernandez Used Cars

Los Angeles, California

11:01 A.M.

October 13, 2005

Charlie Malone glared into the sun, leaned against the side of a battered SUV, and put a wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth. The used car joint was too goddamned slow. He'd specifically looked for one that appeared seedy enough to simply give him a car for his money without running a fucking background check—easy to come by in Los Angeles—but it seemed he'd misjudged with this one. It was run by a middle-aged Hispanic man who seemed to have a conscience the size of Hollywood. Unfortunately for Charlie, fifteen years in a mental hospital left him with precious few credentials to offer.

"You show me driver license now, si?" The man smiled and bobbed his head, unphased by Charlie's glare.

Charlie spat into a puddle of what looked like radiator fluid. He wasn't ordinarily an unkind person. Under any normal circumstances, he would have been ashamed of himself for the thoughts he was having regarding this man. But this was different. He needed a car, and fast. It didn't matter what he had to do to get it. He'd screwed up once in life and he wasn't about to do it again.

"Look, buddy, I gave you the money you wanted, now you give me that car. That's how it works in this country."

"Nono, you show me driver license. Is my responsible to keep drive safe. You no have license, I canno' give car."

"I don't have my wallet with me," lied Charlie. "I left kinda fast."

The man shook his head, looking crestfallen.

"Then I canno' give car. I don't know if you are safely driver."

Charlie spat again, harder this time, noting with satisfaction that a few of the black droplets had splashed onto the man's shoes.

"I need that car. I have to get out of here."

The man cocked his head. Apparently he wasn't as thick as he appeared.

"You are wanting run from something. I can tell."

"Yes," said Charlie, too quickly. Then, "my uh—my wife."

The man shook his head sadly as though he understood.

"Women. Trouble."

"Yes, yes," said Charlie, encouraged. He'd obviously hit on something here. "Women trouble. Big women trouble."

Shit, this man's inarticulacy was contagious. He had to keep talking if he was going to get out of here anywhere near in time. Too much had already been lost.

"Look, I really need that car."

"Wife come after you?"

"Yes, she's coming. Soon."

"She take wallet?"

"What?" He spat into the puddle a third time and swallowed, cringing at the bitterness of the tobacco. It wasn't calming him today like it usually did. Strange, he'd been craving it so long and now that he finally had some it was almost a disappointment.

"You say you don't have wallet. Your wife take wallet, si?"

"Oh! Yes! Yes. My wife took my wallet. That's why I don't have a driver's license to show you."

For a moment it seemed as if the man would give in, but then his eyes narrowed again. Charlie sighed and resisted the urge to ram his fist into the SUV's window. Too painful, and it probably wouldn't help convince this man that he was a "safely driver."

"If she take wallet, why you have money?"

Charlie sighed. This was a plausible question. His lie was in serious danger.

"I um…I've gotten used to it. Her taking my wallet, I mean. So I hid my money."

"If you knew she was going to take wallet, why you no hide license too?"

"I didn't think about that," grumped Charlie. "Besides, this is special money. I've been saving it."

"Saving it…to buy with drugs?"

Charlie snorted at the mental image that conjured, but said nothing.

"No. Not to buy drugs. To buy…a car. So…would you please give me the damned thing now?"

The man hesitated, then pulled a key off the ring on his belt. He led Charlie over to the other side of the lot and then stopped. The car was a black sedan, ironically enough, almost as if the man had known that he was going to use it for something illegal. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and grime which dulled the gloss of the paint. It looked as if it was trying to be inconspicuous, to blend in with the rest of the landscape.

The man held out the key, then drew his hand back just as Charlie moved to take it.

"How I know you be good to this car?"

"Look, buddy, you want the money or not?"

"Not if you going to use it for bad purposes."

"Dammit, why do I have to get the one fucking honest car salesman in the entire shithole country?"

"I begging pardon?"

Charlie sighed, drew back his arm, and dealt the man a good hard blow to the temple. He staggered for a moment, eyes rolling back in his head, then fell to the ground with a small puff of dust. Charlie swallowed hard, then bent down and retrieved the key from the man's now-limp fingers.

He got into the car and turned the key, jumping a little as the thing sputtered to life. He needed some more tobacco. And maybe a drink. He was going to have to calm these nerves if he was to be of any use to the others.

"God," muttered Charlie as he pulled out of the parking lot. He could still see the salesman's prone body in the rearview mirror, a brown speed bump in the dust of the parking lot. "What have I done…"

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