The Riveting Lives of Russell and Sal

Chapter 25

It wasn't like they could go home anyway. But where else could they go? They didn't have money for a hotel. Sal didn't plan a thing in regards to the party, leaving it all on Russell to figure out. But Russell was in no state to make decisions. He was also in no state to be in public. There was nowhere to go but home, unless they wanted to spend the night in the car. But where would they even park? All Sal could think of was the school's parking lot. He'd head for there unless he thought of a better idea.

"Are you able to tell me how to get to school?" Sal asked Russell. "All I know is that we want to go south. But what freeway?"

"Never. Eat. Soggy. Waffles," Russell answered.

Sal figured he wouldn't be helpful in that regard either. Thankfully GPS was a thing his phone had.

After getting it set up at a stop sign, Sal followed the directions onto the freeway as best as he could. Which proved to be difficult, given it was pitch black out, and many of the streets were poorly lit.

Sal snuck a peek at Russell. He had fallen asleep.

Sal wanted to fall asleep too, and wished he had stopped somewhere for an energy drink. To keep himself awake, he turned on the radio, tuning into a country station. A song about saving a horse and riding a cowboy played. He smiled, grateful that country music radio was, for once, playing some good 2000's stuff.

The music woke Russell up. "Really? Not even when I'm drunk." He fumbled at the radio's power button, successfully turning it off after several tries.

That song was one of my favorites," Sal protested.

Russell gazed at him with a dreamy-eyed expression. "You're one of my favorites."

"You too."

Something ran up Sal's thigh. Startled, he swerved into the next lane. "Dammit Russell. I'm driving!"

"Yeah, driving me crazy." Russell leaned over to kiss him, and Sal attempted to push him away with one hand while holding the wheel with his other. But he struggled to keep the wheel straight. A siren wailed, red and blue lights flashing behind them.

Sal swore, and pulled over to the side of the road. "Where's your registration?" he asked, scrambling through the glovebox. Russell answered by kissing his cheek. It was hard to see in the dark, so Sal pulled out the first piece of paper he felt. A bright light flashed in on him. He blindly rolled down the window. "Here's the registration," he said, proud of himself for being prepared.

The police officer snatched it out of his hand. "Next time, wait until you're asked- This isn't the registration."

"It's not?"

The officer frowned at the paper. "This is an invitation to a church brunch." He crumpled it up, and tossed it aside. "Where's your license?"

Sal swallowed. "I have a permit, but-"

"Where's your permit?" The officer shined his flashlight at Russell. "You- where's your license?"

"In my wallet." Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Here it is, your honor."

"Do you think this is a joke?"

"Sorry officer, he's drunk."

"How old are you?" The officer flashed his light towards Russell. "You look too young to be drinking."

"I'm just driving him home," Sal said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

He must not have done a good job of it, because the officer shined the flashlight back into his eyes. "Step out of the vehicle."