“What are you doing?” I shouted.
He threw a hand in the air, blowing me off as he headed back into the gas station, leaving me alone in the parking lot. I crossed my arms in aggravation and sat on the ground, resting my back against the light pole.
I wasn’t feeling too confident Mason could get us where we needed to go. At least with Aunt Wanda we always had transportation. Wanda wouldn’t be caught dead hiking across America.
“Kendall!” Mason said, running from the gas station with a huge grin pinned to his face.
I nearly choked on my slurpee when he shook a set of keys at me.
I jumped to my feet. “Are you joking?” I exclaimed.
“Come on,” Mason said, heading over to the red crotch rocket.
I hesitated at first. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk road rash, but I pushed past that and slung my leg over anyways. Mason plunked the helmet down on my head.
He walked the bike slowly around to the back of the gas station before he started it up.
And we were off.
I held on tight, leaning against him as we put more and more distance between us and Virginia.
I felt carefree on that bike—all I had to do was hold on tight. I wondered how he’d gotten the keys. Was it as bad as I thought? Was that the reason he had blood on his hands? How much longer before I regretted everything so much that I couldn’t handle it anymore? Did Aunt Wanda ever get to that place, where she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror anymore?
No matter how bad people were, I was sure they had a conscience somewhere deep down on the inside.
Mason stopped the bike on the side of the road as it took its last breath. He dropped the bike on its side, barely checking that I was off it before he let it go.
He was angry. His body rigid, his muscles tense. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, and stared up at the sky like the answer he was looking for would drop from the heavens.
“You almost broke my leg, stupid ass,” I griped, dropping the helmet to the ground beside the bike. I was sure the bike was dead. The smoke was a good indication. And we never stopped for gas. That in itself proved to me that he’d done something terrible.
“Did you kill that man, Mason?” I asked, crossing my arms. I could barely see him until passing cars provided a couple seconds of light.
“Kendall, don’t worry about what got us here. Just be glad we are hours away,” he said.
I swallowed.
I caught a glimpse of something in his expression, masked behind anger.
“Where are we?”
“The outskirts of Delaware. Now what to do to get to Jersey,” he said.
I sighed, knowing what that meant. I was the ticket to obtaining a ride. Men would rather pick up a cute girl than a young guy.
Mason moved back getting out of view and plopped down in the ditch to stay out of sight.
I dropped the backpack on the ground and tied my shirt in a knot at my waist. I did my best to fluff my hair. It was all I could do and it would have to work. I stuck out my thumb.
“You know, sometimes I wish I was a girl,” Mason said from behind me.
“Shut up, Mason. That doesn’t make any sense at all,” I told him, silently pleading with the traffic.
I just wanted anybody to stop and put me out of my misery.
“Kendall, since when do you talk to me like that?” he asked, acting hurt.
“Since you have me on the side of the road begging for a ride,” I said, grabbing our backpack as a red jeep came to a screeching halt.
“Kendall,” Mason called after me.
“I should use my brain for once and leave you here,” I told him. I approached the passenger side window, a big smile on my face.
“Hi there, thanks so much for stopping,” I said sweetly.
The man was about thirty. He looked me over, a big smile on his face. He nodded his head, not saying a word.
“Does this mean I could hitch a ride with you, handsome?” I asked breaking his stare.
“Of course. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Where would you like to go, darlin’?”
I looked him over, trying to quickly assess the type and manner of this guy. For one thing, judging by the bad haircut, he didn’t care too much about his physical appearance.
“Oh, I’ll let you know,” I said with a wink.
He melted instantly and unlocked my door.
“Hop on in,” he told me.
“Just a sec,” I said holding one finger up as I backed up right into Mason. He scurried like a ninja to the back of the jeep and in one quick flash was inside. The man shrieked, startled by Mason’s surprise attack.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the man begged, his hands in the air. Mason forced him into the backseat.
“Come on,” he yelled at me. “I should just leave you here for treating me like shit a few minutes ago.”
I scoffed, knowing full well he would never have the gonads to leave me on the side of the road.
I climbed in, shooting a quick look at the backseat at our panic-stricken passenger.
People express their fear in various ways. Some shut down or just freak out. They’re usually the ones who make more trouble for themselves in bad situations.
And then you had those who refused to believe what was happening. They were the ones who did the sensible things and saved themselves.
“What’s your name?” Mason asked as he drove the jeep down the lonely highway. The light from the dashboard illuminated his face and made him look intimidating.
“Leonard,” the man answered flatly. It had been a few hours and I could tell he was ready to be put out of his misery. Mason had said nothing to him the whole drive. That alone was torture.
“Are you married?” Mason asked, releasing one hand from the steering wheel.
“No, I’m not,” Leonard answered.
“Kids?” Mason pressed.
I stared at Mason, annoyed he was making things harder for this guy. And I was even more annoyed that Leonard was being honest.
“No,” he said.
“Hey, Leonard, little word of advice. When two crazed kids hijack your car, lie your ass off,” Mason told him, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Uh, what?”
I looked back at the man. He was sweating like crazy.
“It’s always better to make people feel for you, rather than feel nothing. No one would want to hurt a man who had a family,” I explained.
“Oh God…are you going to kill me?” he asked, starting to panic.
Mason sighed, gripping the steering wheel. He was as much a killer as I was.
“We just need a way to Jersey. I ain’t planning on killing you. What do we look like?” he asked, looking back at Leonard. “I would, however, appreciate if you kept this to yourself though. Okay, Lenny?”
“Absolutely, it never happened,” he said.
Just a few kind words from Mason was all it took to settle Lenny’s nerves.
JULY 9
TH
THE JEEP CAME to a quick stop, nudging me out of my sleep. Still groggy, I tried to figure out what was happening. I squinted my eyes at the sunlight flooding the car.
“So this is Jersey?” I asked.
Mason stretched, letting out a loud grunt. Leonard had gotten a nap as well and he was finally waking up.
I had never been to Jersey. In all the years we’d been on the run, it was one place I’d never seen.
“Yes, this is Jersey. It’s a blast. You’ll love it,” Mason said, pulling out our backpack.
He leaned back into the jeep and told Leonard to get into the front seat.
“Mason are we here?” I asked, looking up at the manicured bushes and two separate staircases that led up to a breathtakingly beautiful home. I was positive only the filthy rich lived here—windows upon windows and two private balconies.