Page 38 of The Fire Walker
“Eat ahorse…”
“Manure pie,” I declared, ending off the childishrhyme.
“How old are you?” sheasked.
“Old enough to know better and young enough to keep doingit.”
“Don’t go allThelma and Louiseonme.”
“In your dreams, hotlegs.”
“Now, that would be a dream…” she saidsuggestively.
“You’re not picturing me and Will tearing up the highway and terrorizing truckers areyou?”
“You bet your sweet cheeks Iam.”
“Zoe.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Dee Dee.” She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face against myshoulder.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and breathed in her familiar scent. Kissing her hair, I said, “I’m gonna miss you, too.”Like she wouldn’tbelieve.
Her tattoo wasof honeysuckle and butterflies. I never asked if it meantanything.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and wondered what I’d been wondering the past two days. What was so wrong with me? Maybe that was what I was meant to find out. These quarter life crisis’s and epic road trips were all about that crap, right? Finding yourself among the pile of shit that the universe molded youinto.
The world wanted me to be a foulmouthed, bad boy rock star that slept with a different girl every night. The idea didn’t seem feasible. Not for the things I wanted, and definitely not after the night I’d spent with Jessie. That would be seared into my mind and body for the rest of mylife.
I cleared out the rest of the hotel room, cramming clothes into my oversized duffel bag. It was time to get outta Dodge and start looking forward. At least, that was what I was trying to convincemyself.
Movies, books…stories about love and happiness, they taught you that if you suffer enough, then it’ll all work out in the end. But I’d never known suffering. I wasn’t sure how much was too much. And besides, it wasn’t going to end happily for me. Not with Jessie. I needed to find my happy place again. I’d strayed from the path and got lost in thewoods.
Step one. Check out of the HeartbreakHotel.
Step two. Find the nearest rental joint and blow this popcorn stand tosmithereens.
Downstairs, the woman at the counter checked me out and directed me two blocks down to a rental company that the concierge recommended. Slinging my heavy bag on my back and wrapping my hand around the handle on my guitar case, I pushed through the front doors out into the sunshine, determined to getgone.
The rental office was empty save for a woman behind thedesk.
Dumping my bag in the corner and sitting my guitar case against the wall, she eyed me with interest. I knew that look. It was one that I often got and usually played up to but nottoday.
“How can I help you?” She smiled brightly, flipping her obviously unnatural red hair over hershoulder.
“I wanna rent acar.”
“Certainly. Any preference?” She gestured toward mystuff.
“Something with a large boot so I can put my guitar backthere.”
She cocked her head, confused. “Boot?”
“Trunk, I mean trunk.” If it weren’t already enough that I’d had to explain every word that came out of my mouth, I would probably have to forget everything I ever knew about driving if I was going to get out of LA alive and without an excess charge on my creditcard.
“Sure, we have a compact four-wheeldrive…”
“Sure.”
