We wandered around in the streets, not quite knowing where to go. And now we were approaching a huge parking lot, meant for trucks. But today the place looked empty, except from one lonely, shabby looking truck that was parked on the other end from where we were.
"That one," Mr. Jackson said, and nodded towards it.
"What?! The truck? What about the truck?"
Instead of answering, he took my hand and dragged me after him. But once again, I yanked myself loose from him.
"You seriously need to stop that, Jackson! I can walk on my own, you know."
He tried to hold back a stifle.
"Yeah, but you're moving a bit slow today."
And then he cracked up and ran a few steps ahead of me, knowing damn well that I couldn't knee him in the groin if he kept his distance.
The truck looked deserted, and Mr. Jackson climbed up by standing on the bumper, to be able to look inside through the window. I heard him hum a little, before he turned to me with a mischievous look in his eyes.
"The keys are in the ignition."
He wiggled his eyebrows, and jumped down. Then he opened the door and made a grimace that was unmistakable. And when I got closer, I smelled it too:
A stench of old tobacco and sweat.
"It ain't no limo, but it'll do," he said. But I planted my feet to the ground.
"Nu-uh. What in the world are going to do with an old truck?!"
"Shhh! Keep it down! There's people here!" he whispered loudly.
I hadn't noticed the two men standing next to a building that looked like some sort of storage shed, and I immediately felt nervous. Luckily, they hadn't seen us yet, so I let Mr. Jackson help me climb inside, before he dumped into the driver's seat next to me.
"I ask again; what are we going to do with a friggin truck?! Do you even know how to drive one?"
What if you crash, Gail? You can't end up in a hospital, or worse; in the hands of the Police, trying to explain a stolen truck, and possibly driving without truck license. And not to forget; you're wanted for murder!
"I've driven a truck before."
He didn't convince me, though. And sure enough, shortly after his face cracked up into a sheepish smirk.
"In the sandbox, when I was a kid...!"
Of course he did, Gail... What else did you expect?! This is going down...
"And you know what trucks are for, right?"
"Uhm, yeah? To bring stuff somewhere!"
I rolled my eyes at his dumb question.
He didn't answer, though. He just started the engine, and impressed me by successfully bring the motor into gear, and drive off. He didn't even choke it! I mentally applauded.
"But we don't have anything to bring. And we don't know where to bring it... Uhm... The nothingness."
I giggled a little, hearing how dumb it sounded.
"What if the truck is already loaded?" he asked, looking sly as ever.
"What if it's not?" I countered.
"We don't know that yet. But we can't stop to find out until we've found some place safe to hide it."
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.
"We're gonna hide a truck..." My voice was drenched in sarcasm.
"Did you notice the size of this?!"
No reaction. He just shifted gear, and turned left and out of the parking lot. I took a short glance at the two men standing by the shed, and they were still busy with what seemed a heated discussion.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Somewhere."
"Well, duh. That's kind of obvious, since we're not heading in the direction of our apartment. Are we leaving for good?"
He shrugged.
"What about our stuff?!"
He shrugged again.
"Is there something you're gonna miss, Ms. Wetherby?"
"Well..." I thought about it.
"No, not really. Only your gun. And my clothes."
"No, you don't," he said with that damn self-satisfied grin again.
Why does he have to be so cocky all the time?! Why can't he be a little more like Michael?
"You can't tell me what I will miss or not! In fact, you can't tell me anything!" I said already quite pissed, but I soon regretted my outburst, when he turned towards me, and I saw the look in his eyes.
"You won't miss anything, because it's already right in front of you."
He pointed at himself, and especially his midsection.
"You are so full of yourself, Jackson, that one tenth of your ego would be enough! Now, what are we going to do if someone attacks us, and we don't have anything to defend ourselves with? Did you think about that?"
"Yup."
I frowned. He slowly pulled his jacket aside, without taking his eyes off the road, and something silvery stuck out from his inner pocket. The gun.
"And I'll buy you new clothes, Mr. Wetherby. Don't worry about that."
"Oh yeah? With what? You ain't getting much money being a moving commercial for some random product you know. You already tried that. Also, you left your sheep costume at the bar, remember?"
"No, I don't remember, and I most certainly don't want to be reminded of it!" he growled.
"And if you don't watch that pretty, little mouth of yours, I know something that will shut you up!"
He grabbed his bulge without the slightest attempt of being discreet, and I gulped. I got the point.
******
I opened my eyes, realizing that I'd been asleep for a while. My body felt stiff and even sorer than before, and I winced in pain when I tried to change position.
"Slept well?"
"No..."
"Too bad, because we have nowhere to stay tonight."
I looked at him, wide eyed. There was nowhere else I would rather be, than in a soft and warm bed. And the thought of spending a whole night in this horrible smelling box on wheels, almost brought me to tears.
"I hate you..." I mumbled, blaming everything on Mr. Jackson.
He was the reason my body was aching. He was the reason we were sitting in a truck. And he was the reason that we had to sleep in a fucking car seat for God knows how long!!
Luckily, he didn't hear me. Or at least he pretended to.
"Let's find a motel."
I narrowed my eyebrows.
"And how are we going to pay for that? We need our money for food, and nothing else."
"Let's find a motel, and we'll figure out how to get more money tomorrow. Things will be better after a good night's sleep."
He smiled at me. A nice smile actually. But that didn't change the scepticism I felt about spending our last pesos on a bed. Not to mention; I was hungry again.
Mr. Jackson pulled off the highway right after a sign that said B&B. And with a deep sigh, I admitted that he was right. But he didn't turn in the direction of the B&B. He kept going.
"What...? Where are we going? This is the wrong way!"
"No, it's not."
I gestured with my hand for him to give me a further explanation.
"The truck, remember? We need to find a place to hide it."
Oh. Of course. Why didn't my brain work today?
"This looks suitable," Mr. Jackson stated, when we came to a little parking lot, big enough for only a couple of cars. But it was actually perfect for the cause of hiding a large thing like this, because of the many trees that grew around it. So we parked and got out. Or... I tried to get out, but gave up because it hurt too bad.
"Just leave me here," I muttered.
"I see you next week or so."
Mr. Jackson chuckled and grabbed my hand.
"I'm not gonna leave you here! I may be an ass, but I happen to be quite nice every once in a while."
"Yeah... In every leap year or so-AAAAAAARGH!!!"
Mr. Jackson had pulled me out and lifted me carefully down to the ground. But instead of letting me go, he just held his arms around me and kissed me. A long, deep kiss that made my heart flutter.
Is this Michael? Gosh, I hope it is!
Are you so sure about that, Gail? You don't really know if it's good or bad if Mr. Jackson left right now, considering what you are going to do with your situation. You need a man that can take care of you. Especially now when you're all... Sore.
"I'm sorry for being a little rough yesterday, Ms. Wetherby. I promise to behave a little better in the future. If I can ask for a little blowjob tonight..."
A little rough?! And... A blowjob?! Definitely Mr. Jackson! No doubt.
I pursed my lips and scowled at him, until he kissed me again. And this time he didn't stop until I moaned and felt my knees buckle.
Oh, alright... I guess I could just...
I could see Mr. Jackson was equally affected by the kiss as me, because his lazy eyes told on him.
"I do love you, Gail. With all my heart."
But just as I was about to say it back, he grabbed my hand, and pulled me alongside the truck.
"YOU GOTTA STOP DRAGGING ME AROUND LIKE THAT, DAMMIT!!!" I yelled, but got curious when he started to open the back doors.
It was already dark outside, but it was even darker inside the container. It took quite a few seconds until our eyes adapted, but when they did, both of is gasped in unison.
It was...