“Rice Lake.”
I yawned, and shifted in my seat. It was past one in the morning, but the oppressive July heat stuck around even when the sun didn't. I had the air conditioning in the Ford Ranger cranked up, but it didn't help much.
“Why are you going to Rice Lake?” she asked.
I searched around for the drink holder, picked up the coffee I'd bought back in the Dells, and forced down the remaining cold dregs, sucking every last molecule of caffeine from the grit that caught in my teeth.
“Business.”
She touched my arm, hairless like the rest of me.
“You don't look like a businessman.”
The road stretched out ahead of us, an endless black snake. Mile after mile of nothing to look at. I should have gotten a vehicle with a manual transmission, given my hand something to do.
“My briefcase and power ties are in the back seat.”
Thor didn't bother to look. Which was a good thing.
“What sort of business are you in?”
I considered it. “Customer relations.”
“From Chicago,” Thor said.
She noticed the plates before climbing in. Observant girl. I wondered, obliquely, how far she'd take this line of questioning.
“Don't act much like a businessman, either.”
“How do businessmen act?” I said.
“They're all after one thing.”
“And what's that?”
“Me.”
She tried to purr, and wound up sounding like Mickey Mouse. Personally, I didn't find her attractive. I had no idea if she was pre-op, post-op, or a work in progress, but Thor and I weren't going to happen, ever.
I didn't tell her this. I might be a killer, but I'm not mean.
“Where are you headed?” I asked.
She sighed, scratching her neck, posture changing from demure seductress to one of the guys.
“Anywhere. Nowhere. I don't have a clue. This was a spur of the moment thing. One of my girlfriends just called, said my former pimp was coming after me.”
“How former?”
“I left him yesterday. He was a selfish bastard.”
She was quiet for a while. I fumbled to crank the air higher, forgetting where the knob was. It was already up all the way. I glanced over at Thor, watched her shoulders quiver in time with her sobs.
“You love him,” I said.
She sniffled, lifted up her chin.
“He didn't care about me. He just cared that I took his shit.”
This got my attention.
“You holding?” I asked. Codeine didn't do as good a job as coke or heroin.
“No. Never so much as smoked a joint, if you can believe it.”
I would have raised an eyebrow, but they hadn't grown back yet. Maybe I'd be dead before they did.
“It's true, handsome. Every perverted little thing I've ever done I've done stone cold sober. Lots of men think girls like me are all messed up in the head. I'm not. I have zero identity issues, and my self esteem is fine, thank you.”
“I've never met a hooker with any self esteem,” I said.
“And I've never met a car thief on chemotherapy.”
I glanced at her again. Waited for the explanation.
“You couldn't find the climate control,” Thor said. “And you're so stoned on something you never bothered to adjust the seat or the mirrors. Vicodin?”
I nodded, yawned.
“You okay to drive?”
“I managed to pick you up without running you over.”
Thor clicked open a silver-sequined clutch purse and produced a compact. She fussed with her make-up as she spoke, dabbing at her tears with a foundation sponge.
“So why did you pick me up?” she asked. “You're not the type who's into transgender.”
“You're smart. Figure it out.”
She studied me, staring for almost a full minute. I shifted in my seat. Being scrutinized was a lot of work.
“You stole the car in Chicago, so you've been on the road for about six hours. You're zonked out on painkillers, probably sick from chemotherapy, but you're still driving at two in the morning. I'd say you just robbed a bank, but you don't seem jumpy or paranoid like you're running from something. That means you're running to something. How am I doing so far?”
“If I had any gold stars, you'd get one.”
She stared a bit longer, then asked.
“What's your name?”
“Phineas Troutt. People call me Phin.”
“Sort of a strange name.”
“This from a girl named Thor.”
“My father loved comic books. Wanted a tough, macho, manly son, thought the name would make me strong.”
I glanced at her. “It did.”
Thor smiled. A real smile, not a hooker smile.
“Are you going to Rice Lake to commit some sort of crime, Phin?”
“That isn't the question. The question is why I picked you up.”
“Fair enough. If I still believed in knights in shining armor, I'd say you picked me up because you felt bad for me and wanted to help. But I think your reason was purely selfish.”
“And that reason is?”
“You were falling asleep behind the wheel, and needed something to keep you awake.”
I smiled, and it morphed into a yawn.
“That's a damn good guess.”
“But is it true?”
“I'm definitely enjoying the company.”
She kept watching me, but it was more comfortable this time.
“So who are you going to kill in Rice Lake, Phin?”
I stayed quiet.
“No whore ever gets into a car without checking the back seat,” Thor said. “A forty dollar trick can turn into a gang rape freebie, a girl's not careful.”
I wondered what she meant, then remembered what was lying on the back seat. What I hadn't bothered to put away. “You saw the gun.”
“People normally keep those things hidden. You should try to be inconspicuous.”
“I'm not big on inconspicuous.”
“That box of baby wipes. Are you a proud papa, or are they for something else?”
“Sometimes things get messy.” Which was an understatement. “So if you saw the gun, why did you get in?”
Thor laughed, throaty and seductive. She could shrug the whore act on and off like it was a pair of shoes.
“The streets are dangerous, Phin. A working girl has to carry more protection than condoms.”
She reached into the top of her knee high black vinyl boot, showed me the butt of a revolver.
“Mine's bigger,” I said.
