the Virginia-North Carolina border and continued on south.
Kelly was asleep in the back.
By 1 a.m. we had traveled about 170 miles, but at least the speed limit was higher now, up from sixty miles an hour to seventy. I kept seeing large billboards featuring a cartoon of a Mexican, advertising a place called South of the Border. That would be our next stop in two hundred miles' time.
We crossed into South Carolina at about 5 a.m. South of the Border, just a mile or two farther down the road, turned out to be a mixture of service area and amusement park. It was probably a great hit with families going to and from the beaches of North and South Carolina. It covered a huge area and included beachwear shops, grocery stores, drugstores, even a bar with dancing. It looked as if it was still open, judging by the number of cars parked outside.
I started to fill up with gas. The weather was only a little bit warmer than in D.C.' but I could hear the crickets; it definitely felt like I was going south. I was still standing there watching the numbers spin on the pump when a brand-new four-wheel-drive Cherokee rolled up. Rap music blared out as the doors opened. Inside were four white college-age kids, two boys and two girls.
Kelly had already been awoken by the strong white light under the filling station's canopy and now took an interest in the mobile disco. I motioned with my hand through the window to ask her if she wanted a drink. She nodded, rubbing her eyes.
I went inside, picked up some drinks and sandwiches, and went up to the counter. The cashier, a guy in his late fifties, started totaling up my stuff.
The two girls came in, followed by one of the boys. Both girls had dyed-blond shoulder-length hair. The lad was skinny, pimply, and had an unsuccessful attempt at a goatee.
The cashier winked and said quietly, 'Love is blind.' I smiled in agreement.
The girls were talking to each other, making more noise than the music system. Maybe they'd blown their eardrums. I looked outside at the other boy filling up. All were in the same uniform: baggy T-shirts and shorts. They looked as if they'd been to the beach. You could tell they had money-Daddy's money.
They lined up behind me. One of the girls was going to pay.
'That was a totally cool day,' she shouted. I was meeting a real-life member of the cast of Clueless. By the sound of the conversation their parents were total assholes who never gave them enough money, even though they were loaded and could easily afford it.
The cashier gave me my change and leaned over to me. 'Maybe getting a job would help!' His eyes twinkled.
I grinned back and started to pick up my stuff from the counter. The girl came up to pay and opened her purse. Clueless Two, still behind me with the boy, was pissed off by the cashier's comment, and at me for agreeing.
'Look at that face, guys!' she stage-whispered behind my back.
'What's bitten you, mister?' The lad guffawed.
Daddy was very generous by the look of it, no matter what she said. I saw a wad of cash and enough cards for a bridge tournament. The other two were holding the beers they'd gotten from the fridge and were giggling. I left.
Our vehicles were facing each other at the pumps. Sitting in the front of the Cherokee was the fourth member of the group, who'd finished filling up and was now air-drumming along to whatever shit was on the
CD.
Kelly was stretched out across the backseat. I went over to her window and tapped. Kelly sat up, startled, and I held out her Coke.
The other three were now coming out of the shop. Clueless Two was still pissed off. As they got in their car I heard one of the girls shriek, 'Fucking asshole,' and they closed the doors to gales of laughter.
I got into the Dodge and drove over to the air pump. The story was now being told to the driver, and I could see them all getting worked up about it. The boys had to show how hard they were, and the girls didn't like being shown up in front of their beaus. There was a lot of chemistry driving out of the garage.
As the Cherokee rolled away from the pumps, it caught me in its headlights, chatting away with Kelly as I checked the tires. They slowed right down and looked at us. Clueless One must have made a crack about my appearance, because they all laughed and the driver gave me the finger to make him look good, then zoomed off into the night.
I gave it about a minute, backed out, and followed.
I didn't want to do it on the highway unless I had to. Sooner or later I knew they'd turn off the main drag so they could drink those beers out of sight of highway cops and maybe spread a couple of blankets on the ground.
After just five miles we followed the big Jeep onto a potholed road that seemed to go through the middle of nowhere.
'Kelly, see that car ahead? I have to stop and ask them something. I want you to stay in the car, OK?'
'OK.' She was more interested in the Coke.
I didn't want to force them off the road or do anything drastic. It had to look natural in case another car drove past.
We passed a roadside store that was closed, then a large truck stop, then a trailer park and a big stretch of dark nothingness, then an isolated house. I was beginning to think I'd fucked up when at last it happened. I saw a stop sign four hundred yards ahead; accelerating, I got a bit closer and checked for other car lights.
I drove up on their left-hand side. Beeping my horn, I waved at them with the road map and gave a big smile. They all looked over, and as I turned the interior light on they saw first me, then Kelly in the back half-asleep. They looked worried, then recognized me as the asshole from the gas station, Jokes were exchanged, and their beer cans came back up to their mouths from their hiding places.
I got out. The crickets were louder out here than at the filling station. I kept looking at them, smiling. The map was for Washington, D.C.' but they couldn't see that, and by the time they did, it would be too late.
The driver was making a comment to the rest, probably proposing driving off as soon as I got to the door.
I said, 'Hiya! Can you help me? I'm trying to get to Raleigh'--which was a place I'd seen signs for on the freeway, way back in North Carolina.
As the electric window rolled down farther, I could hear whispered giggles from the backseat ordering the driver to tell me to fuck off. I could see he had other ideas, maybe to send me anywhere but Raleigh.
'Sure, man, I'll show you.'
I offered the map through the open window.
'I don't know how I got lost. I must have taken the wrong exit after I got gas.
He didn't need the map. He started to give directions, pointing down the road.
'Hey, man, just turn left and go for about twenty miles until you see ...' The girls were liking this one, working hard to stifle their sniggers.
I got hold of his head with my left hand, pulled my pistol up, and stuck it into the young flesh of his cheek.
'Oh shit, he's got a gun, he's got a gun!'
The other three went silent, but the driver's mouth went into free wheel
'I'm sorry, man, it was a joke, just a joke.
We're drunk, man. It's the bitch in the back who started it.
I've got nothing against you, man.'
I couldn't even be bothered to answer him. I shouted into the back, 'Throw your purses out! Now!'
My Southern drawl was quite good, I thought. I just hoped I was looking scary enough. The girls passed over their handbags.
By now the driver was trembling, and quiet tears rolled down his cheeks. The girls huddled together.
I looked at the front passenger.
'You.'
He looked at me as if he were one of a hundred I could be talking to.
'Yes, you. Give me your money, out this window.' It took all of two seconds for him to comply.
