🎶You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run, tried to hide
Break on through to the other side🎶
The Doors Break on Through (To the Other Side) floated from the speakers. We were no longer in the city. We were coasting on a highway in the middle of nowhere. The country had been green and lush when we first started traveling but had slowly faded into dry desert as time passed.
"Hey, Cutter," Otis called over the radio.
"Yeah?" He eyed us in the rearview mirror.
"Turn that the fuck down fer a minute."
"Why?"
"Well, fer one, Cherry's head is prolly poundin' out her fuckin' skull. Fer two, I wanna talk to ya 'bout somethin'."
"Yeah, it is," I rasped, rubbing my forehead.
Grumbling, Cutter lowered the volume. "What?!"
"You still got those antibiotics in the glove box?" Otis asked. "You know, the ones from the dentist ya never even touched?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Give 'em ta Cherry. She might need 'em. You don't."
Cutter rolled his eyes and retrieved a pharmacy bottle from the glove box. He passed it over the seat to Otis, who shook the bottle to make sure it was full.
"Can ya take Penicillin?" Otis inquired. "Some people are allergic. Seems a lot o' redheads are."
"I can take it. I don't have any allergies."
"Here." He pressed the bottle into my palm. "Once you can keep food and water down, I wan'cha ta start takin' these. Better safe than sorry."
"Alright, thanks."
Otis grunted.
I read over the label slowly. Penicillin, 250 mg tablets, Quantity: 30. Take one tablet every 6 hours until gone. What interested me was the name on the bottle, Johnny Lee Johns. The address was some road in Ruggsville County, Texas I had never heard of. Ruggsville was about 3 hours away from Houston in the opposite direction. It was also my hometown, which I found to be kind of odd.
"Johnny Lee Johns?" I muttered.
"That's my real name," Cutter said. "Don't go 'round repeatin' that, ya hear? Just ferget ya ever saw it, alright?"
"Okay. So Cutter is just a nickname?"
"Yeah, or an alias. Whatever ya choose ta call it. My brother gave it ta me after I stabbed a motherfucker ta death." He snickered. "I've used it ever since."
"The same brother who owns the whore house?" I asked.
"Yeah. Only, he ain't my blood brother. I'm adopted."
"Oh. Kinda like Otis."
Otis snorted. "Nah, I met Cutter on the road stealin' cars. I went by Drifty and Whitey back then."
Cutter chuckled. "No, this was a real adoption. I was an orphan fer a while when I was a kid."
"Oh." I stuffed the medicine bottle into the pocket of my robe. "Johnny Lee Johns? Who the fuck is that? Dunno any Drifty's or Whitey's, either."
"Good girl," Cutter said.
"And we dunno any Cherry's," Otis added.
Cutter hit every bump in the road. My sore pussy and my ribs were killing me. Wincing, I shifted around in the seat.
"These God damn roads," I hissed. "My fuckin' ribcage is screamin' right now. My pussy feels like..." Blowing out a puff of air, I rested my head on the back of the seat.
Grimacing, Otis grabbed a blue and white flannel shirt out of the back window and bunched it up in his lap.
"The best thing fer ya ta do is ta lay on yer injured side," he recommended. "Doing that'll restrict movement and give yer ribs support. You'll also be able ta breathe easier on yer uninjured side. Deep breathin' is necessary or ya could develop pneumonia. You don't want that shit; especially with fucked up ribs."
"No, that would fuckin' suck," I agreed.
"Yes, it would. You can put yer head in my lap. Might be able ta get some good rest that way, too, which is imperative fer the healin' process."
"But if I do that, I'll be layin' on the fucked up side o' my head."
"That's why I got the flannel. It's soft, like gauze or a pillow," Otis explained.
I scanned his lap, which was super inviting. "That shirt yers?"
"Yes." There was that sexy little lisp of his again. Something suddenly seemed to occur to him, as his whole face morphed from calm to concerned. "Cutter, who the fuck is runnin' the God damn museum?? You didn't just leave town without-"
"Yer just now thinkin' 'bout that?" Cutter chuckled. "Chill the fuck out, son. Revelli's got the keys. Stucky's hangin' 'round, too. He'll keep Revelli's ass in check."
"I fuckin' hope so! I got some projects in the back. If they get fucked up-"
"They ain't gonna get fucked up. It's my business. I got everythin' under control. Gloria's got the register. We might not be t'gether no more, but she's the only one I trust ta run it."
"You run a museum? Who's Gloria?" I blurted.
"His baby's mama. My adoptive mama," Otis replied, smirking. "It's a roadside attraction and gas station called Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Mayhem. There's even a murder ride."
I raised an eyebrow. "Huh, sounds interesting."
"Folks just love my fried chicken," Cutter bragged.
I remembered Cutter telling me he had a daughter when Otis was checking between my legs. "Oh, so when Cutter mentioned he had a kid...that's yer sister?"
"Yeah," they said together.
"Her name's Angel Baby. I got two brothers, too," Otis added. "RJ and Tiny."
"I have a family, but they hate me," I said forlornly. "It's why I b'came a whore in the first place. I wanted ta get away from 'em. Prostitution was a quick way ta make money and leave 'em b'hind." Another bump in the road made my yelp and grit my teeth.
"Sorry, darlin'," Cutter mumbled. "They're unavoidable."
Otis rubbed his thigh. "C'mon, mama. Lay down."
Forgetting our conversation, I did so carefully and bent my knees. I was slightly nauseous from the pain in my ribs. We had brought along the small trash can from my bathroom, so I moved it from my side of the vehicle to between Otis's feet.
"Ya alright?" he asked.
"Yeah. Just in case."
Otis grunted and repositioned his hips. Opening his thighs further made it so my head wasn't so elevated, which was nice. However, his natural bulge pressed against the back of my head. He wasn't hard by any means, but I could tell he was well endowed. I wasn't surprised. Tall, lanky men like him usually had big cocks.
Sighing comfortably, he rested one arm on the door where the ashtray was located. His other arm settled on my side and shoulder. I didn't object when he began to absentmindedly twirl my hair in his fingertips.
The earthy smell of hay and grass invaded my nostrils, along with, dust, manure, and farm animals. There was a hint of grain and the sweet scent of some kind of flower, too. I inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma. Otis was right. Lying on my injured side was definitely the way to go.
"Yer shirt smells like a barn," I murmured.
Otis laughed softly. "That's cuz I live on a farm. We got horses, cows, shit like that. I take care of 'em most o' the time. Is the smell makin' ya sick?"
"No, it's actually nice," I said honestly.
"Since you wanna question me about my God damn museum, whose takin' care o' the livestock?" Cutter interjected.
"RJ. Who the fuck else?" Otis snapped.
Cutter snickered. He was just trying to get a rise out of Otis. "How ya like it, son?"
"Fuck off, ya old bitch hog."
His comment only made Cutter laugh harder. Otis huffed, his fingertips caressing my scalp. The sensation lulled me into a state of deep relaxation, and I fell asleep. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when Cutter announced he was making a pit stop. I didn't fully awaken until the car shut off.
"Git Cherry some Ginger Ale and crackers. Some bananas and applesauce if they got 'em," Otis said. "She ain't hurled in a while."
"You want somethin'?" Cutter asked.
"Whiskey," he said dryly.
"I'm fuckin' serious, son. You can git fucked up when we git ta Charlie's."
"Mmm..." Otis clicked his tongue. "Just a soda and some chips. Maybe somethin' sweet. You know what I like."
Grunting, Cutter exited the vehicle and slammed the door. I jumped. In an attempt to calm me, Otis smoothed my hair back.
"Relax, mama. Cutter's gotta git some gas and other shit."
"Oh," I croaked. "How long I been out?"
"A couple hours. Did ya know you talk in yer sleep?"
"Been told that b'fore. Did I say anythin' embarrassin'?"
Otis shrugged. "Nothin' I could understand."
I turned my head slightly so I could look at him. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his probed my soul. "Once, I told this guy I was datin' I wanted ta fuck the shit outta 'im while I was asleep."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Yer fuckin' serious?"
"Yeah."
Otis threw his head back and laughed so hard, his whole body shook and tears slipped down his cheeks. His real laugh was warm and hearty, the complete opposite of what I would have expected from him. The sound reminded me of a bird who had realized the sun had risen and was singing to the world. I couldn't help but smile. It was the first time I admitted to myself that I liked him.
'Oh, man. I like this guy. Why? I'll never be able ta do anythin' about this,' I thought. 'He'd never want me like that anyway. I'm just a whore.'
"Holy hell!" Otis forced out.
"I didn't remember it, but he sure told me about it when I woke up. That was mortifyin'. I was only like 14 or 15," I said, my smile widening.
"You didn't say no shit like that!" He wiped tears from his cheeks and beard onto his t-shirt. "Mostly garbled nonsense."
"Needless ta say, we fucked."
"Yeah, I bet he did relieve some fuckin' tension!"
I chuckled. "You have no idea. That guy fucked the hell outta me and marked me up in the process. My parents were soooo pissed off."
"I'm sure they were. A girl fuckin' at that age is every decent parent's nightmare." Otis's eyes glittered. "Ya like it rough, huh?" He smirked.
"Sometimes." I rolled my shoulder. "But it ain't like I've fucked fer enjoyment any time recently. I just do what people pay me ta do."
His amusement vanished, his fingers returning to my hair. "Well, that's a fuckin' shame."
Nodding, I faced forward and sighed. It really was a bummer. I couldn't even remember the last time I had been kissed. I didn't kiss my clients. That was a huge no-no in my book.
"I'm so lonely," I mumbled without thinking.
"Me, too," Otis said under his breath.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was staring out the window. His blonde hair shrouded his face and his features were twisted with misery. He didn't falter when I gripped his wrist and wrapped his arm around me. Clasping his hand, I gave it a tender kiss.
"Cutter's comin' back," he murmured.
With his eyes locked on Cutter's approaching figure, he traced my lips with his thumb. It was the only indication he gave that my affection had registered in his brain. Cutter opened the car door and sat a few bags on the seat.
"I'm gittin' hot," I complained.
Grunting, Otis rolled down the window. A breeze blew through the car, cooling me immediately.
"Better?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Cutter, roll down yer fuckin' window," Otis griped. "It's hotter than the pits o' hell in here."
"That's cuz the God damn AC ain't on," he said.
"No fuckin' shit!" Otis snapped. "It's a hundred fuckin' degrees out there!"
Cutter exhaled and rolled down the window. Closing the door, he strolled around to the gas tank and inserted the nozzle into the car. As he pumped gas, he occasionally peeked inside the car. Every time Otis caught him, he sneered and flipped him the bird, which made Cutter chuckle.
I giggled. "You two are somethin' else."
"He's a pain in my fuckin' ass," Otis grumbled.
We were silent for the rest of the time Cutter stood at the gas pump. Once he was finished, he came around to Otis's window. Bending down, he said, "I'm gonna call Charlie, tell 'im we're comin'. He ain't expectin' us fer another week."
Otis nodded. Narrowing his eyes, he watched Cutter mosey over to a payphone. His fingers stayed busy in my hair and on my scalp.
"I'm gonna sit up and give yer lap a break," I declared.
That got Otis's full attention. He drug his eyes away from Cutter and focused on me. "You feel like tryin' ta eat or drink?"
At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. "Yeah, I'll try. Maybe it'll take the edge off o' this headache."
"Maybe."
Using Otis's thigh for support, I pushed up into a sitting position. He didn't flinch or pull away; he just turned his concentration on Cutter, his hand brushing down my back as I straightened up. His leg was lean yet muscled under my hands. Everything about the man was rock solid, probably from the farm work he had previously mentioned.
Now that Cutter had said Charlie wasn't expecting them for another week, I was aware they visited on occasion; most likely for some kind of illegal business. Maybe I would get to touch Otis in the future. I hoped I would. My eyes flickered to the payphone as Cutter began talking.
"Cut the shit, Charlie. It's me, Cutter. Me and Happy Boy're comin' a bit earlier than planned." Cutter paused while Charlie spoke. "Yeah, I got somethin' for ya. In fact, I got a few things for ya. We'll be there in a couple hours. We're comin' from Dallas, so we'll stay the night. Let yer bitches know we're comin'."
Charlie said something else, then Cutter hung up. Satisfied with the conversation, Otis arched over the front seat to dig around in the bags Cutter had brought from inside. I couldn't help but stare at his ass. It was round and perfectly shaped. The man was sex on a stick.
My curiosity got the better of me and I started asking questions. "Cutter said ta let the bitches know y'all are comin'. Reckon that means y'all are gonna get laid? Do y'all have favorites or somethin'?"
Snorting, Otis handed me a Ginger Ale and a banana. Grabbing a Coke and a bag of chips for himself, he settled back into the seat. "Fuck yeah, we're gonna get laid. We got extra fuckin' money so t'night'll be an adventure. I got a favorite. Dunno 'bout Cutter. I don't think he really cares so long as he's dippin' 'is cock. Casey might be 'is favorite. He chills with her a lot. Ain't really sure, though."
I cracked open my Ginger Ale. "Who's yer favorite?"
"Her name's Candy. She's young, younger than you are. She's got blonde hair and can hold her liquor better than most men my age. She's a lot o' fun."
Sighing, I sipped my soda. "Hope I don't git sick."
"We'll see. If that don't come up, try eatin' that banana. If that sits okay, take the Penicillin."
I mock-saluted him. "Yes, sir."
Otis grinned. "Smart ass."
I giggled. Cutter opened the door, slid into the seat, and situated what was in the bags. When he had what he wanted for himself, he handed the rest to Otis. "That's fer y'all."
"Thanks," I said.
"Let's just hope you can keep it down," he said, glimpsing at me in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah."
Otis was quiet. He was too involved with his bag of chips to comment. Cutter started the car and drove out onto the main road. The car filled with the sounds of chewing and drinking, the blast of the AC, and whatever song was on the radio. My stomach felt pretty good after drinking most of the Ginger Ale, so I slowly ate the banana and discarded the peel into the bag.
As I waited for time to pass, I gazed out the window. The day was dwindling to dusk, and the sun wasn't so bright on my eyes. Dusty, barren wastelands flew by in a blur, cacti and crumbling rocks dotting the tundra. Tumbleweeds swirled every once in a while, vultures circling their next prey.
"Where are we goin'?" I finally asked.
"A bit north o' Amarillo," Cutter replied. "Out in bum fuck Egypt."
I nodded. "I feel alright. Should I try eatin' somethin' else?"
"No, don't push it. Just take the Penicillin," Otis advised.
"Alright."
Pulling the bottle from my robe pocket, I opened it and swallowed a pill with my Ginger Ale. Removing the pharmacy label, I tossed it into the bag. Cutter's real name was figuratively forgotten.
"If that stays down, then try the crackers or applesauce."
"Okay." I shoved the bottle into my pocket.
"There's more Ginger Ale in that bag if ya need it."
Nodding, I yawned.
"I'm done. You can lay back down if ya want," Otis invited, rubbing his thigh.
Screwing the cap on my soda, I put it back in the bag and nestled my head into his lap. He relaxed into the seat and immersed his fingers into my hair. The radio station became staticky, so Cutter turned the knob until he found another rock station. Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones came through the speakers loud and clear.
🎶I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens ev'ry day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door I must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the settin' sun
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes🎶
As I slipped from consciousness, Otis's fingertips gently stroked through my hair and up and down my jaw. "Shit's gonna be alright," he promised softly. "I'll make sure of it."
I sighed. If Cutter heard him, he didn't acknowledge it.