Road To Nowhere (2 page)

“What do you want?” he asked. “My treat.”

“I was just going to get a candy bar or something.” She was a sugar freak, more specifically a Junior Mints addict. She ate several boxes a day and her body was none the worse for them, except for an occasional pimple, which, fortunately, she didn’t happen to have at the moment. She was five six, thin with great legs and clear skin. Her breasts were on the small side, but fitted her well. Her brown hair was light enough that she passed as a blonde in the summer. Overall her face was pretty enough, in a natural California fashion. Yet the bruise-like circles under her eyes betrayed her recent traumas.

Her lips were lush. She smiled a lot, too much; the smile was more a nervous reflex than an expression of joy. Her blue eyes were clear skies; her dark eyebrows clouds on the horizon. Her nose was a shade too big for her face, and it kept her from being truly beautiful. She had considered having it fixed, but then decided she didn’t need to be beautiful. Of course, that was a lie. She occasionally told them to herself, just small ones, white lies that didn't do anybody any harm. The truth was she would have given a great deal to have been irresistible. Then Bill would have still wanted her.

But who cares? I don't care. I wouldn’t take him back if he came begging on his knees.

Tiny white lies.

“Do you drink beer?” Free asked. He opened the cooler door and pulled out a six-pack of Budweiser.

“Not when I’m driving,” Teresa said.

“I appreciate you stopping and giving us a ride.”

“Had you been standing out there long?”

“Nah, not too long,” Free said.

“Did Poppy really crash your car into a telephone pole?”

“It might have been a tree. All I know is it was tall and hard and the car looked like hell after hitting it.”

Teresa giggled. “You’re crazy. Do you know that?”

Free reached for another six-pack. “The later it gets, the crazier I get. Are we going to drive all night?”

Teresa paused. She had never actually invited them to stay with her all the way up the coast. Yet she couldn't see dropping them off in the middle of nowhere, especially if they were all still headed in the same direction.

“I planned on it,” she said finally, rubbing her left wrist with her right hand. A dull ache throbbed through it – she must have banged it on something just before she left the apartment.

“Are you all right?” Free asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” Free carried a six-pack in each hand. “Good.”

Teresa picked up two boxes of Junior Mints and a bottle of Coke and brought them to the counter. Free was having trouble buying his beer – the man behind the counter, a short Hispanic fellow of about forty, wanted I.D. Free felt around in his pockets but couldn’t find his licence.

“What’s the matter?” Free asked the guy. “You don’t think I’m twenty-one?”

“I need to see I.D.,” the guy said.

“Give me a packet of Marlboros,” Free said as he pulled a wad of mangled bills from his pocket. The cashier reached behind him for the cigarettes and set the carton down beside the beer and Free’s other goodies: a box of chocolate doughnuts, a half gallon of milk, and a bag of potato chips. “How much is it?” Free asked.

“I can tell you how much it is without the beer,” the guy said.

Free was annoyed. “I lost my licence. Does that make me a criminal? Look at me. Do I look like a kid? Ring up the beer, man, now. We've got a long way to go tonight.”

“I need to see I.D.,” the man repeated.

“You can’t see what I don’t have,” Free said, defiant.

“Free,” Teresa said timidly. “This isn’t worth the hassle.”

Free looked at her and smiled. All the tension seemed to go out of him in an instant, which made her relax as well. “You’re right, babe,” he said. “We shouldn’t drink and drive.” He turned back to the guy. “Ring it up any way you want, man.”

They left the store a minute later, without the beer. In the car they handed Poppy her cigarettes. She accepted them with a soft thank-you. Free leaned over and checked the gas gauge as Teresa turned the key to start the car. “We should get gas,” Free said.

“I have three-quarters of a tank,” Teresa said.

“We might as well top it up while we’re here,” Free said, getting back out. “Pull up to the pumps. Stay in the car. I’ll take care of everything.”

Teresa did as she was told. Free disappeared inside. Behind Teresa, Poppy lit another cigarette. Teresa adjusted her rear-view mirror so she could get a better look at the girl. Poppy didn’t have a problem with her nose being too big. She was beautiful with big grey eyes and creamy white skin. She was extremely pale, it was true, but her colouring made her look ethereal. With her mane of black hair and her black leather coat she was halfway to being a vampire at a masquerade ball. She, too, looked tired. As she leaned her head back against the seat, Teresa watched the orange light of her cigarette glow in the centre of her dark eyes.

“Are you satisfied?” Poppy asked.

“I don’t understand,” Teresa said.

“You’re checking me out. I don’t mind. You’re the one who’s giving us the ride. Do you like what you see?”

“You’re a pretty girl, Poppy.”

“So are you, Teresa.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just OK.”

“Why do you say that?” Poppy asked.

“Because it’s true.”

“You don’t say it because you want me to disagree with you?”

Teresa trembled. “No. Why do you say that?”

Poppy was already losing interest. “Because I’m an amateur shrink. Does my smoking bother you?”

“I told you, I don’t mind.”

“I wish I could quit.”

“Why don’t you?” Teresa asked.

“It’s too late.”

“Does your father live near Big Sur?”

“Yeah,” Poppy said. “He lives in a big old church.”

“You were joking when you said he was a priest, weren’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Do you really want to see him on the way up?” Teresa asked. “The reason I ask is we'll definitely have to take the coast road then and it will take us longer. But I don't mind. I was thinking of going that way anyway.”

“Do you want to see him?” Poppy asked.

Teresa chuckled. “Why would I want to see a priest?”

“He could listen to your confession.”

Teresa shivered, although she still felt hot. Her shirt was damp with perspiration. “I have nothing to confess,” she said.

Poppy closed her eyes. “We all have something to confess.” She took a drag on her cigarette and coughed. “Some bloody thing.”

Free reappeared a minute later. Teresa was surprised to see he had the two six-packs of beer with him. He explained that he had found his licence. He set the alcohol on the front seat and casually topped off the gas tank. Then they were back on the road, back on the freeway. Heading north, with no clear destination in mind.

CHAPTER TWO

They didn’t reach the coast until an hour and a half later, after they had driven through Ventura. On the drive up Free drank four beers, Poppy two, and Teresa one. Closing on Santa Barbara, the black Pacific on their left, they finished the last of the doughnuts and milk. Finally the air tasted fresh and salty. Free dazzled Teresa with more card tricks and was in a jolly mood the whole time. He did one trick where he had Teresa name a card and then – he said he definitely used magic this time – made it appear in the back pocket of her trousers. Try as Teresa might, she couldn’t figure out how he had done it.

“I could have made it show up in your underwear,” Free said as he took the card back and slipped it into one of his deep pockets.

“I'm beginning to believe it,” Teresa said, blushing. She was easily embarrassed when it came to talking about sexual matters, particularly with a cute guy. She had begun to like Free – his outrageous charm, the pleasure he took in everything she said, his exaggerated displeasure with everything Poppy did. Of course, Poppy didn’t say or do much of anything, except smoke and stare out the window at the rain-washed night. Teresa almost wished that Free had been hitch-hiking alone. She didn’t actively dislike Poppy, not really – the girl just had problems that Teresa couldn’t deal with.

Free fidgeted in his seat. He simply couldn’t sit still. “So, what are we going to do next?” he asked.

“Do you want to listen to the radio?” Teresa asked. She loved to crank the music up while she drove and drown out her thoughts. But so far they hadn’t turned on the radio once. Free brushed aside her suggestion.

“I’m not into canned entertainment,” he said. “I need something live, something that’s got guts. Hey, I know what! Let’s tell stories.”

Teresa frowned. “What kind of stories?”

“Ghost stories,” Free said. “Horror stories. Real life stories. Anything, I don’t care. Poppy and I do this all the time while we’re on the road. It helps pass the time. Doesn’t it, Poppy?”

“The time always passes without our help,” Poppy said.

Free turned round. “You’re in a lousy mood tonight. You should be the one to start. Come on, Poppy Corn, tell us the story of your life. Tell us how you became a big star.”

“I would rather hear a story I haven’t heard before,” Poppy said.

Free raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“I would like to hear Teresa Chafey’s story,” Poppy said.

Teresa giggled uneasily. “I don’t know any stories.”

“No,” Free said. “Poppy wants to hear the story of your life.”

“I’m eighteen years old,” Teresa said. “It would take all night to tell you everything that’s happened to me.”

“We have all night,” Poppy said.

“Don’t pressure the girl,” Free snapped. He spoke to Teresa gently. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on in your life?”

“How do you know anything's going on?” Teresa asked.

Free shrugged. “You haven’t told us where you’re going, and why you’re going there in the middle of the night. Poppy and I’ve got the impression you’re running away from home. I mean, if you are, that's cool. I mean who wants to live at home when you can be out on the road? But hey, we’re like everybody else. We’re curious, we’re nosey. We want to hear the dirt. Did you kill somebody or something?”

Teresa laughed. She laughed so hard she almost steered the car off the road. Only Freedom Jack could have asked such a serious question and made it sound so trivial.

“No,” Teresa said when she had calmed down enough to speak. “I didn't kill anybody. I wish I had, though.”

“Who?” Free asked.

“This guy,” Teresa said. “This jerk I know.”

“Who?” Poppy asked from the back seat.

Teresa hesitated and felt a lump rise in her throat. She continued to feel hot. Maybe she was getting sick. Maybe she just needed to unburden herself. These two – they were strangers and they would talk on the way up the coast, maybe even become casual friends. But then they'd go their separate ways and never see one another again. Who better to confide in?

She decided right then to tell them about Bill.

The awful thing he had done to her.

“His name was Bill Clark,” Teresa said. “He was my boyfriend.”

“Why do you wish you’d killed him?” Free asked.

“I have my reasons,” Teresa said.

They met at the mall during Christmas vacation. The place was packed because it was only two days before the big holiday. Teresa was there with her mother trying to finish up some last-minute shopping. Actually, even though they were at the mall together and had come in the same car, they weren’t shopping as a happy mother daughter twosome. Teresa couldn't buy anything with her mother present because her mother inevitably told her how stupid she was being. Her mother didn’t approve of anything she did, which caused Teresa to keep a low profile in her presence. Her mother didn’t even like how she studied, lying on her bed and listening to music. And here she was a straight-A student and everything.

For the moment, thankfully, Teresa was alone to make her own decisions. She was hungry and stopped at the food section, which was huge, the selection vast. She could have Mexican, Italian, Chinese or American. She ended up at a Carl’s Jr – she liked the char-grilled chicken sandwiches. She had to get in a long line. After a minute or two the guy in front of her turned round and his hands were also laden with bags. He had brown hair and brown eyes, a nice build. He also had dimples; she noticed those first. She always liked dimples on a guy; they made anyone look less dangerous. She hadn't dated much and guys still scared her a little. This one was about her age.

“It looks like it’s going to be a long wait,” the guy said.

Teresa nodded. “At least fifteen minutes just to put our orders in.”

He nodded at her bags. “Do you have something for everybody?”

She smiled. “No. I ran out of money. I’m going to have a lot of people mad at me this year.” Actually, that wasn’t true. She had bought something for everyone who might conceivably expect a present. It had broken her to do so. She had spent over four hundred dollars. She’d make it back, though, she told herself. She gave guitar and piano lessons every day after school. She had been playing both instruments since she was nine and was considered very good. She also sang and wrote songs, although only a few people knew that. Her best friend, Rene Le Roe, was one. She had spent a hundred dollars on a cashmere sweater from Nordstroms for Rene.

“You can’t please everybody,” the guy said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said. She was always trying to please people and thought it was because she was a nice person. Although sometimes she did worry that she just wanted people to like her. She knew those weren’t exactly the same things.

“Are you here by yourself?” the guy asked.

“My mom’s around somewhere. We're supposed to meet in Waldenbooks in an hour. How about you?”

“I came by myself. Do you know what you’re getting for Christmas?”

It was an interesting question, she thought. “I know my parents are getting me a new guitar because I had to help them pick it out. My brother – he lives in San Diego – he’ll probably give me a gift certificate for clothes. He always does. My best friend will get me something totally off the wall. Something I’ll never be able to use or even show anybody.”