The 'Cousins'

Part Sixteen: An Awakening for Greg

A/N: This chapter contains references to gay prostitution. If you are underage or you find such material upsetting, please click away now. 

Part: Sixteen

Timeline: Late Evening. Wednesday, 18th April.

Greg spent several minutes checking around his car for any signs of tampering before he climbed in and drove off towards the Truck Stop.   A dark, lowering sky blew in from the south-west on a chill wind that threatened rain, which added a layer of gloominess to the atmosphere that perfectly matched Greg’s present mood.  He scowled at the redundant diversion sign, which had guided him into his present situation where it stood rusting, and leaning to one side as he passed. The Truck Stop was small compared to the big halts on the Interstate highway.  This was just a minor fuelling and refreshment station, used mostly by the local trade and those truckers who found themselves caught short in between the big halts. The Truck Stop also enjoyed a small, regular clientele of salesmen and drivers who preferred its quieter, more leisurely and private facilities.  

The Truck Stop's main vehicle park was to the left of the restaurant’s single storey building. It could hold no more than a dozen trucks and operated a single pump, diesel oil service point from the farthermost point near to the exit.  Greg drove into the entrance and swung to the right. He saw at once that it was not a busy night.  There were only three trucks parked side by side in the lot and two cars pulled up at the entrance to the restaurant. 

The Truck Stop’s boundary limits were planted with hedges interspersed with some tall trees.  It must have been Greg’s sub-conscious concern for his safety after yesterday’s events that stopped him parking alongside the cars at the entrance to the restaurant. Instead he drove past them and reversed into the right hand corner of the lot.  The added shade afforded by the clump of trees under which he had parked added to the darkness of the night to further obscure his presence. 

Greg sat in the car for a few moments looking at the brightly lit windows of the restaurant to size up the scene.  He could see the few diners munching mechanically at their meals and pondered once again on Jess’s sudden departure.

To the left, and attached to the main building, he noticed a rough, flat roofed structure.  It appeared to be unfinished, a stark, unpainted, concrete block edifice without windows that gave the impression of an amateur attempt at building.   Greg reckoned it to be a large storeroom, but learned later it was a comfort station for over-nighting travellers.  Inside were basic bathroom facilities and a half dozen cell like, windowless cabins, which for a few bucks, offered drivers slightly better overnight accommodation than the bunks at the rear of their cabs.  

His thoughts were distracted by the squeal of braking wheels to his left as a large car rushed through the entrance into the lot. In the faint lume of the yellow entrance lights Greg caught a glimpse of white walled tyres on an old, dark coloured gas-guzzling sedan.  Greg identified it as a Buick and his pulse quickened.  He sat and watched the car pull up in front of the parked trucks, then reverse to the boundary wall as he had done to face the parked trucks on the other side of the entrance. Greg was parked on slightly higher ground than the Buick.  When its interior light came on briefly, it allowed Greg to look down into the car and see the driver’s hands taking something out of a wallet. From his vantage point, he was unable to see the driver’s face. The interior light went out as soon as the driver had put away his wallet and he sat there in darkness: as did Greg.

 ‘That’s got to be this Felix character.’ Greg mumbled and tasted the acid animosity of his words on his teeth. He wondered why the man had pulled up there away from the building and had made no move to get out?