"Ugh. I hate this song. Come on, change the station."
Bobby growled deep in his throat and swatted at the arm that was wagging over the back of the seat, reaching for the radio. "That ain't being invisible. You said, 'you won't even know I'm here.' Well, your nagging from the backseat is making that pretty fucking hard."
Jolene sighed dramatically, resting her head on the back of Bobby's seat, running her red tipped nail over the old radio. "I don't see what the big deal is." She was doing that purring crap again. He couldn't believe she thought that shit worked.
"The big deal is that this is my car and what I say goes," Bobby said as he reached forward, knocked her hand out of the way and turned the radio off, twisting the knob so hard that it broke off in his hand. He tossed it into the backseat, blindly aiming for her head. "Happy now?"
Bobby glanced in the rearview mirror and watched as Jack's one night stand crossed her arms and pushed her lower lip out, pouting like a six year old who got told she couldn't play with her Barbies. Leave it to his dumbass brother to hookup with the one chick in fifty states more annoying than Sofi.
Jack leaned forward in the passenger seat, attempting to fiddle with all the remained of the radio dial.
"Keep your hands off my stuff."
"I was just gonna …" Jack started to whine.
"I don't fucking care. You're just as annoying as she is. Should stick you both in the trunk for the next hundred miles and enjoy the drive for a change."
Bobby watched as Jack pulled out the cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Jack punched some numbers and frowned.
"Something wrong?" Bobby asked.
"Battery's dead."
"How can the fucking battery be dead? We haven't used the stupid thing in over a day."
"You spent three hours stalking through the hotel room, trying to get a signal. Batteries don't last forever." Jack closed it and slipped it back into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette at the same time.
"Well?" Bobby asked.
"Well what? We'll power it back up when we get to a motel. It's not like I can plug it into a cow." Jack nodded toward the window and the miles of farmland they were driving through. He tucked the cigarette into his mouth and reached forward for the lighter in the dashboard. He was about to push it in when Bobby knocked his hand out of the way.
"No smoking in my car." Bobby rolled his neck, wishing the tension and exhaustion would disappear.
Jack leaned back, slouching in his seat, but Bobby could feel his eyes on him, knew he was watching him. The kid was about to say something, though with Jack it usually took him a while to get up the nerve to actually speak, so Bobby had to sit there and wait while his brother twisted the words around in his brain and stared through him like he was trying to read his mind.
Bobby finally had enough. "What?" he asked, more annoyed than he really needed to be.
Jack ran his hands through his hair. "Um …" he started and Bobby fought the urge to punch him again, give him a matching bruise on the other side of his jaw. Jack had goaded him into punching him with his whole "don't baby me" crap, but he'd felt bad about it as soon as he'd done it. Now he was just starting to think the kid had a masochistic streak he wasn't aware of.
"Jesus Christ, Jack, if you don't spit it out I'm going to pull this car over and … fuck, I don't know … just something. This has been the longest goddamn two days in a long time, and yes I'm including the shit that went down in Chicago. Quit being a pussy and just fucking say what you want to say."
Jolene giggled in the backseat and Bobby glared at her in the rearview mirror. "You got a problem?"
"I'm sorry, but the whole tough guy act is funny."
"Jolene …" Jack said under his breath.
"Oh, you think this is funny." Bobby talked over his brother, not wanting to hear his lame attempt at shutting up the tramp in the backseat.
She giggled again. "Joe Pesci."
For some reason, that made Jack start laughing too and now Bobby was really pissed. "What the fuck does Joe Whoever have to do with anything?"
"Joe Pesci. Goodfellas." Jolene leaned forward. "'You think I'm funny? Do I amuse you?'" She did some weird imitation that vaguely rang a bell, but he kept his expression blank. Her mouth dropped open. "You seriously don't know Goodfellas?"
Jack was shaking his head. "Bobby doesn't do movies."
"Oh, I do movies. When I'm in jail because I've killed some annoying broad and my dimwit brother, then I do lots of movies because I have hours upon hours to kill and there's nothin' but movies and stampin' out license plates to do. And I'm gettin' pretty damn close to needing a vacation and jail is the closest thing I ever get to one, so I'd keep that in mind if I were you two."
That shut them up, at least for a few miles. Bobby rolled his shoulders, feeling the last two days of no sleep, jail time, and a bar fight form a giant knot right at the base of his neck.
"I could drive for a bit."
That almost made him swerve off the road. "What?"
Jack sighed. "I can drive for a bit. You look like shit and could probably use some rest after last night."
"You think it's a good idea to bring up last night?" Bobby gripped the steering wheel, the cuts and bruises on his knuckles standing out like a warning sign.
"I had a good time last night," Jolene added from the backseat and Bobby closed his eyes and counted to ten, not even caring that he could drive them into a tree.
Jack turned slightly in his seat and glanced behind him. "That's not helping."
"Glory, give the man a dollar so he can buy a sense of humor." She rolled her eyes, snapping her gum.
Bobby glared at his brother. "This is a joke, right Jackass? You thought it would be funny to throw the most annoying broad imaginable into this car to prove some point you've concocted in that persecuted brain of yours?"
"You figured it out, Bobby. That's exactly what this is." Jack said dryly, drumming a beat on his knee as looked out the window, wincing as Bobby swerved slightly on the empty, perfectly straight stretch of road. "I'm serious about letting me drive. You're gonna get us killed."
"You remember the last time you drove my car?"
Jack narrowed his eyes. "You never let me drive your car."
"That's not what I asked. I asked about the last time you drove it. There was no fucking 'letting' involved. Letting implies permission. Letting implies me placing the keys in your hand and saying, 'Here ya go kid. Drive safe. Be home before dark.' I don't recall that ever taking place. Do you?"
"Bobby, that was a long time ago."
"Six years."
"And six years is a long time."
If Bobby wasn't mistaken, there was fear in Jack's eyes and Bobby fought the urge to grin. "Damn straight it's a long time," he said darkly. "Especially if you've been sitting on the fact that some dumb shit wrecked your car and spray painted Fuck You on it in pink paint."
"I was in a hurry and grabbed the first can of paint on the shelf."
"That's your whole defense?"
"Maybe?" Jack started tapping on the widow, pretending to be more interested in the scenery than in the conversation. "So you've known all along?" he mumbled.
"What do you think?"
"Well, why didn't you say anything back then?"
"Ma said I couldn't kill you."
XxXxXxXxXx
"We're stoppin'? It ain't even dark yet." Jolene said as she pulled herself up out of the car, stretching as she did so, the fabric of her shirt straining against her chest. She ran her hands through her hair, fluffing it out. It fell in a perfect halo of gold around her shoulders and the hours just spent stuck in a car were instantly erased.
Bobby narrowed his eyes at her, oblivious to her charm, big boobs and all. "Talk about stating the obvious. You sure you ain't a rocket scientist?"
"At this rate, we'll be in California by next summer," she shot back and Jack rubbed his temples. He was tired of the bickering. "How long have you too been on this trip? It's not like California is in Siberia."
"Trip's Hell of a lot shorter than the one you'll be on when you have to hitchhike the rest of the way there, babe."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Bobby thought this should be some sort of brothers bonding trip or some bullshit like that."
"And you know you fucking appreciate that, Jack." Bobby slammed his door.
"Yeah, our very own road trip movie, minus the fun and laughs and good times," Jack said dryly.
Jack walked up to the dingy check-in window. The bald guy sitting on the other side was reading a trashy romance novel and doing the best impression that Jack had ever seen of a guy who couldn't give a fuck that anyone was standing there.
He tapped on the glass and cleared his throat. "Excuse me."
Nothing. Maybe the dude was at a really racy part and couldn't put the book down. The woman on the cover was spilling out of the top of her low cut dress and it looked like the pirate guy was about to ravish her from behind. Jack could only imagine the steamy shit that went on behind that cover.
Jack wrapped his knuckles against the window. "Yo, Fabio."
Fabio sighed and put the book down. "What?"
"What do you think? We want a room."
"Fifteen bucks an hour. Ten dollars extra for clean-up."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Huh?"
Fabio leaned forward and pointed to the faded, pealing price list taped to the glass.
Bobby stepped up behind Jack and snorted a laugh. Jack looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"I don't judge. Ain't my place to tell you what's right and wrong. I'm here to make a buck, same as she is," Fabio said, his voice muffled through the rusted speaker.
That made Bobby positively cackle.
"Seriously," Jack said. "What?"
"He thinks she's a pro." Bobby was laughing so hard he was wheezing.
Jack looked past Bobby to Jolene. She was struggling to get her suitcase out of the backseat, her skin tight jeans hugging every curve, shirt tied at the waist, boobs on display like a dessert bar at a diner. She was cursing at the bag, the wheels refusing to roll on the rocky ground.
Fabio stood up from his rolling chair, peering out at the scene that had Jack's attention. "Suitcase? She certainly comes prepared."
XxXxXxXxXx
The key stuck in the lock, but Jack had a sinking feeling there was a lot of sticky stuff all over that motel. Bobby finally shoved it open and they were greeted with a stale cigarette smell mixed with that canned air freshener scent that always made Jack think of nursing homes and old ladies wearing house coats and taupe-colored pantyhose.
Bobby flicked on the light switch and Jack thought it might be better just to spend the next eight hours or so in the dark. Old, worn and dingy. Well, you get what you pay for.
Jolene was about to step through the door when Bobby slammed it in her face. The knock on the door was short, sharp and angry. She wasn't smiling when Bobby opened it.
"Get your own room."
She stuck her foot in the way before he could slam the door shut a second time. "This place isn't safe. You can't make me stay in my own room."
"Bobby …" Jack started. It's amazing how you can tell from behind that a person was pissed – he could actually see Bobby's neck muscles tighten ever so slightly and his spine stiffen. Jack took a step back, sitting his guitar and suitcase on one of the saggy beds.
Jolene obviously sensed she might have an ally. "Jack, tell him I hardly snore and that you won't even know I'm here."
"He didn't know you were there last night because he was drunk off his fucking ass," Bobby interjected. "Besides, there are only two beds."
They were lucky they had those two – it took several minutes to convince the guy they needed a room for more than a couple of hours and that Jolene was, in fact, not a prostitute. Fabio had obviously had his head in his Harlequins for too long because he couldn't fathom that some wild threesome wasn't about to happen under his dilapidated roof.
"I can sleep on the floor," Jack said, digging through his bag for the cell phone charger.
"Goddamn it, Jack. Grow a fucking set of balls. No means no."
XxXxXxXxXx
Bobby glared at the bathroom door. "How long can one person spend in the bathroom?"
Jack shrugged, his back against the pillows he propped against the end table situated between the two beds. He had created a makeshift bed on the floor, using every free blanket they could get the front desk guy to give them. He told himself it was no different than his shitty apartment in New York – he and his buddy Steve had rarely, if ever, cleaned the place and while they saw a cockroach here and there, they tended to keep to themselves. He was hoping Midwest cockroaches were just as considerate as East Coast ones.
Jolene came bouncing out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and boxers, definitely not the red lace bra and panties she'd worn last night.
Bobby shut the lamp off before she even reached the bed. "Goodnight, y'all," she said and the phone rang.
Bobby groaned, turning the lamp back on and reaching for the cell Jack left on the end table. They'd tried Jerry earlier, but it had gone to voicemail.
"Yeah," Bobby said and Jack could barely make out Jerry on the other end, obviously rushing through something because Bobby interrupted. "Slow down, man. What was that?"
A loud knock on the door shot through the room and Bobby grunted at Jack as he stood up to get it. "I got it." He had a gun in his hand so fast that Jack had no idea where it even came from. He tossed the phone and Jack caught it, mumbling to Jerry that it would be a second.
He realized Bobby wasn't as on the ball as he liked to claim because he barely had time to raise the pistol when the door pushed open and some massive guy pushed through, smashing Bobby in the face with his fist.
"Fuck," Bobby yelled before barreling at the guy's stomach with his shoulder, gun forgotten.
Jolene sat up in bed. "Jimmy!"
"Jimmy?" Bobby and Jack both said simultaneously.
The guy who was apparently Jimmy had Bobby in a chokehold. "Jolene, what the fuck are you doing with these guys?"
"You know this fucking asshole?" Bobby ground out as he flailed, his fists landing with a solid thunk. "Who is he, your pimp?"
Jolene was chewing her bottom lip and twisting the hem of her t-shirt in her hands. "He's my husband."
Jack picked up the phone. "Uh … we'll call you back, Jer." His brother asked what was up and Jack sighed. "Oh, you know - the usual. Someone's kicking the shit out of Bobby."