Page 101 of Locke 2

“Damn straight,” he heartily said. “And that’s my fucking right.”

“You sound like a crazy hippy.”

“My phone is superior to yours, Kali, because this fucker can survive a dip in a one-inch puddle, and it won’t cost me a fucking month’s worth of groceries to replace it.”

“Only one month’s worth of groceries?”

His mouth broke into a genuine smile, and I had to admit, Jem was pretty dazzling when he smiled. I was hard for Locke in every way, but Jem would have stolen my breath if I’d bumped into him first.

It was only as we began approaching a gas station that I noticed my phone had dropped its bars. By this point, Jem asked me to call Locke.

“Reception is spotty,” I said, staring up at the sky. “Must be the rain.”

He glanced at me like I was full of shit. “Your prissy phone lost reception? Weren’t you just gloating about how superior it was?”

“Oh, I bet your potato phone can’t make a call from up here.”

“I bet it can. Pick it up and try.”

I picked up the phone, but the battery was still very low. “It takes forever to charge, too? If I tried to make a call, it might explode in my hands.”

“That’s a stupid thing to say. Why would it explode in your hands?”

“Well, for one, it’s burning hot to the touch.” I let go of the phone and left it sitting there, plugged in at a measly eight percent. Jem eyed it as he drove, looking wounded that it had let him down.

“It must be the charger. Probably one of your new age ones.”

“My charger is different, and this is yours, Jem.”

He began to bicker, to which I sighed and pointed at the gas station. “Stop off here and buy a new cord.”

“How about you buy the cord, and I’ll fill up on gas?”

“What if you don’t like my cord choices? I think you’re sending me to get it because if it fails, you can just blame me for it not working.”

He pulled up in front of a pump. “You got cash?”

“You are seriously making me pay for your cord?”

He smirked. “I’m paying for gas, and it ain’t cheap driving this far up here. Remember who is doing who a favour.”

I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was smiling. Jem was sort of fun, and he was being nice to me. I was pretty sure I was winning him over. He hadn’t been mean to me in like twenty hours.

I climbed out of the car, pretending to be dramatic, and then I marched up to the gas station. There were only a couple other cars around. One was at another pump. A nice red pick-up truck. Another was parked in the parking lot, but it looked like it hadn’t moved in months.

I swung the door of the gas station open and stepped in. Hillbilly vibes immediately hit me when I saw the racks of gun keychains, cigarette lighters with stickers of alcohol bottles and words like “backwater life dudes.” The cashier turned to look at me, and he almost appeared surprised at my presence, like he hadn’t seen a customer in a while.

“Hey,” I smiled brightly. “Know where the phone chargers are?”

He checked me out, perusing me even though I was wearing my gigantic black jacket, and my hair hadn’t been combed today. When was the last time I wore make-up? When was the last time I even looked in a mirror?

“In the back,” he answered gruffly. I felt his eyes on me as I walked down the aisle before he turned his attention back to his yellowed book titled “One Man’s Wilderness.” There was a picture of an old dude on the front and his first name was Dick.

I went far into the aisle, searching for the chargers. When I found them, I spent too much time trying to choose. Why were they so expensive? His phone sucked. What did it matter—

The door of the gas station opened. I waited for Jem’s voice to tell me to hurry along. Instead, someone else spoke. A familiar deep voice that made me motionless.

“Pump two,” he spoke. “Have you stocked up on snare wire?”

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