Page 118 of Torch Songs

SADLY, THEtruck barely made it back to San Rafael before it—Kelly’s words—up and fucking died. There he was, cruising along the freeway, when the unsubtlebwa-bap-bap-bap-bap-bapthat had started on his way to Sand Cut from Colton grew louder.

Home,his brain was shouting,Home! Holy shit, Guthrie, he’s waiting for you. You haven’t seen him in nearly six goddamned weeks. You’ve barely talked to him, texted him, known him, but you are scant hours from home, and you can’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t—fuck!

That lastbrap! had been so loud it shook the windows, and suddenly the car was losing power.

Oddly enough, Guthrie’s luck seemed to be turning for the better because the final gasp—slowing to twenty miles an hour, belching black smoke, backfiring, the whole nine yards—began about four miles from Eugene C. Calhoun’s auto dealership. According to Guthrie’s phone, he pulled up to the service bay about fifteen minutes after the repair guys arrived and forty-five minutes before Eugene C. Calhoun himself.

The truck sputtered, backfired, and quit, leaving Guthrie to stand up on the brake and wrench his shoulders on the defunct power steering to get it to coast into position as the mechanics stared in surprise.

“Oh, Guthrie,” said the head mechanic as Guthrie tumbled out of the heat-clicking vehicle. “It’s great to see you, man, but I know that sound. The only thing to do for this thing is hold a funeral.”

Guthrie’s heart was thundering in his throat.Home! Tell this asshole you need to get HOME!

“Take a look, would ya?” Guthrie begged, and at that minute, Martin came trotting out of the office, a genuine smile on his face as he pulled Guthrie into a bro hug.

“Guthrie! My dude! What’s up?” His nose wrinkled as the black smoke hit him, and he took one look at Guthrie’s truck and grimaced. “Oh man. She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Guthrie sighed and tried not to cry. He and the band hadn’t slept in two weeks—and it had been great! Felt like living on music! But now, with home so damned close he almost couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t sure he had enough sleep to pull it together.

“I am three days from having enough money to buy a brand-new truck,” he muttered. “Three goddamned days.Shit!”

Martin surveyed the dead Colorado with a now-practiced eye. “How muchdoyou have?” he asked. “Because I can give you $800 in trade for that thing. There’s a used truck in the back—just came in. Calhoun hasn’t seen it. He’d never know you bought it. Only problem is, we need more than the trade-in for a down payment.” He grimaced. “You know the drill, but I can get it for you under blue book.”

Guthrie smiled at him, focusing for the first time on the young man who had apparently blossomed since Guthrie had walked out nearly three months ago.

“You selling cars on the floor now?” he asked, impressed.

Martin shook his head, blushing like the kid Guthrie had known. “Naw, but one of the new salesmen doesn’t know his dick from a hole in the ground. I’d put it under his name and do the paperwork myself. He won’t get much of a commission, but the sale will show up and make him look good. He won’t argue.”

Guthrie gnawed his lip, thinking of the money in his back pocket and knowing it wasn’t enough. He could take a bus? But what would he do with his stuff? The thought of calling Tad and having him come down to bail Guthrie out one more time didn’tsit with him. He had his pride, goddamnedif he didn’t, cash in his back pocket notwithstanding.

God. Three days.Three days. The thought of puttering down here in San Rafael while he waited for the check to clear made his head hurt, but that might have been the lack of sleep and, well, the whole last month and a half catching up to him. He couldn’tthink.

His pocket buzzed, and automatically he pulled it out, surprised and pleased to see Olivia’s text.

Tad said you’re almost done with the album. WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?

And maybe because he was tired and maybe because he was in the moment with his beloved truck’s carcass still trickling smoke in front of him—maybe because he’d seen this woman vulnerable and emotional and she’d trusted him with that time. And maybe because he wanted to see Tad so goddamned bad his chest hurt, and all that guardedness that had kept him alive for so long didn’t seem to serve a purpose anymore because the people he loved could see right through it. Hell, people he hadn’t known three weeks ago were shoving money in his pockets to see him through to when his ship came in. How much pride could he have?

Maybe it was all of it, but suddenly he could admit that he needed to see his lover, and he needed to talk to his friend, and he needed the downpayment for another goddamned truck.

Workin’ on it, darlin’,he typed.

Her response was immediate.Working on it how?

Having a little bit of car trouble.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

“It died, didn’t it?” Olivia asked.

He grunted, the words paining him a lot more than his own father’s death, truth be told. “Like a shot horse,” he said, staringwith mournful eyes at the poor old dinged-up machine with the primered quarter panels and the egg crate in the flat bed.

“Where are you? It doesn’t sound like you’re on the side of the road, so maybe youcanbe trusted with your safety, but you’re nothere,so I need to know.”

“I’m at my old job,” Guthrie said. “I got a friend here who can sell me a used truck at a loss. It’s just….” Oh, this hurt. “Three days, Livvy. More money than I’ve ever seen in my life hits my bank account inthree days,and in the meantime, I’m looking at buying a bus ticket and renting a locker for my shit—”

“You can stash your shit at my place!” Martin said indignantly, overhearing, at the same time Olivia said, “Oh bullshit. You’ve got two choices. One is hang in there while I get Elton to go pick you up—he’s in town going shopping, but he could be there in three hours.” She grunted. “I’d go down with you, but—” In the background, not too far away, he heard a whimper and a grunting noise, and his cheeks heated as he realized she was probably nursing that babyas they spoke. “Every two hours. Like clockwork. And she eats like ahorse. It would turn a six-hour trip into a ten-hour trip, and that would make everybody batshit.”

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