Page 99 of Safety Net
"It happens."
Dave started checking out my supplies while I went for the coffee. "Hey, hey, hold on!"
I stopped mid-pump. "What?"
"I thought you were joking," he said. "You can't put coffee in that thing. You'll burn your hand off."
"Listen, Dave," I said. "I've spent most of my summer blowing up the rest of my runway. And the woman I fell for over a year ago finally liked me long enough to almost fall for me. Except I fucked it up by making big promises and waiting until the night of to fulfill them. So, unless you have another way to keep me alert and semi-sober?—"
"Coffee ain't going to make you sober." He finished putting my waters in a bag, then came from behind the counter and grabbed a couple of cold sandwiches, which he tucked into the bag too. "Nothing but time can do that. Food and hydration help."
"I need the caffeine. In an IV drip, preferably. You wouldn't happen to have one of those?"
He scoffed. "Does this look like a hospital or a ritzy clinic to you? "
"Had to ask, you never know these days. I don't plan on sleeping for the foreseeable future, so I'm dedicated to offeringmy body to science. Maybe I could be your first drip patient? It can't be that hard. Hot water, coffee grounds, and a needle."
"I don't see how that's going to help you win a woman over."
"The big promises, Dave," I reminded him. "Big promises."
He raised a brow, unconvinced, but gestured to a thermos. "I'll let you fill that for the price of a small one if you promise you're not driving tonight."
"Never intended to." I hurried to fill the thermos. I gave him a twenty and waved him off when he tried to hand me change. "I appreciate you."
"Good luck," he said. "And try to get a bit of sleep. I'm sure she'll forgive you if you're a little late on that promise. We all fall short one time or another. Best not to beat yourself up about it."
I nodded, trying to smile. He didn't know what I'd done and who I was. How careless I'd been with someone else's dreams. How much I didn't deserve to rest until I made things right.
As I waited for the ride I ordered, I guzzled two bottles of water and half of the coffee. I'd requested an XL ride and got a guy in a SUV with chipped blue paint and magnetic signs promoting a car detailing company.
"You Lincoln?" he asked when I climbed into the back seat. It smelled like cigarettes and Clorox. "Are you going to New Dane?"
"That's the goal." I slammed the door behind me and ripped open my sandwich. My headache grew, piercing enough to make the small bit of light pouring in from the gas station sickening. I needed to focus. Needed to center myself enough to stay alert and ready for the next steps in my plan: making sure Uncle Aaron would open the shop for me. And convincing this driver to do this trip back while carting the sets.
"That's over an hour's drive away," he warned, voice hesitant as if he was half-hoping I'd put in the wrong location.
"It always is," I assured.
He sighed and pulled out of the gas station. "Alright then. Let's get this show on the road."
"Full transparency."
The words made him glance at me through the rearview, eyes squinted in suspicion. "I don't care what you rate me; I'm not above leaving assholes in curbs in the middle of nowhere."
I laughed despite feeling like something had chewed me up and spit me out. "I'm on a tight deadline. I'm locked in. Laser focused. And I need to know if you're with me. Willing to do whatever it takes to get a job done."
"My man, you're paying me over a hundred dollars." He chuckled, relaxing into his seat now he realized I wasn't going to try to do something chaotic like grab the wheel. "I'm with you."
"There and back again?" I asked. "With cargo."
He frowned, guard going up once more. "What kind of cargo are we talking about?"
"The kind that will hopefully right one wrong, thus setting me on the course to righting every wrong." I stretched out on the backseat because holding my head up had become too strenuous. Were heads always this heavy? Or maybe the neck was the bigger culprit?
"I'm not interested in carting around any drugs," he said. "Unless you're willing to pay me under the table. I have a sliding scale. It's in the passenger's seat back pocket. Take a look."
"No worries, no worries," I said around a mouthful of ham and cheese. "No drugs. It's all fairy dust and wooden towers."
