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Luck returned to me in the form of a middle aged guy in an unbuttoned dress shirt and beer stained undershirt wobbling out of his motel room on his way to the vending machine. He left the door of his brightly lit room wide open as he went with the car keys of his pale grey jeep sitting right there on the table by the window. By the sound of crashing, kicking and cursing, he had something like a fight with said vending machine, which soon brought out the receptionist. In the actual fight that ensued, neither of them noticed me slip into the room to grab the keys.
I might even have been able to drive the man’s truck out unnoticed right then and there, but I didn’t want to push my luck that far. For one thing, the receptionist was threatening to call the cops if the man didn’t settle down, and for another, the guy sounded so drunk I’m sure he’ll pass out within the hour, giving me the rest of the night and possibly most of tomorrow morning before he notices his car is gone.
My luck is always terrific when I’m chasing after Harper and non-existent when I’m running away from her. I should maybe start accepting that as a sign not to leave her again, but seeing as she had just left me, it might be too late.
But luck had continued to smile on me again when the drunk car owner returned to his room, slammed the door and turned off all the lights in response to the argument, which he clearly lost.
I waited another half an hour then took his car then drove off as fast as I dared after Harper.
I’d unwrapped the phone she got for me and turned it on, vaguely thinking I could call the Devils. I still have a couple of phone numbers memorized, for example the one to call in case of an emergency on a job. Hawk, the intel guy, keeps watch over that number. But we’re not there yet. And besides, if I’m calling anyone, she’s the first on the list.
I certainly never expected the phone to ring.
But it did, Harper’s number flashing on the screen only about fifteen minutes into my ride after her.
“I knew you didn’t want me to get on no train,” I say as I pick up although I should be saying something much sweeter.
“Where are you?” she asks curtly.
“On my way after you,” I reply and only slightly care that it makes me sound like a damn stalker.
“How?” she gasps.
“I stole a car and I know where your next concert is.”
“What?” she says in a slightly less annoyed voice, then draws a deep breath. “Never mind. It’s probably for the best. I’m stopping for the night in the next town I reach, a place called Sunnyvale. I want to see you.”
Those words make me the happiest man on earth while at the same time filling my chest with icy dread. It’s the curt, hard tone in which she’s speaking.
“Grizzly won’t like that,” I say, trying to sound like I’m joking but it comes out dead flat.
“He won’t know,” she says. “Call me when you get here.”
Then she hangs up and I step on the gas.
I doubt I’m walking into a pleasant conversation with Harper, her curt voice and her ice-cold tone left no doubt in my mind that I’d have to be crazy to expect that.
But she wants to see me, which is more than I dared hope for a couple of minutes ago. And honestly, I’d walk through fire, no questions asked, to make that happen.
14
Harper
I stopped at the first motel I passed in the town of Sunnyvale, got a room, told Grizzly I need to sleep then locked myself in my room. He told me he’d call my father, I told him I don’t want to speak to anyone until the morning.
The guys got rooms too, but one of them stayed to keep watch outside my door. I closed all the curtains and turned off the lights, then stuffed as much clothes as would fit into my backpack, took my guitar and snuck out through the bathroom window, through which I barely fit.
I didn’t have a fixed plan in mind as I walked to the gas station I passed as I entered this town, nor did I think that the tiny bit of a plan I did have was a good idea.
Crickets were chirping, the tall grass in the field behind the gas station was whispering and hissing, and everyone who drove by had nothing but queer looks for me as I sat on the curb and waited for Jax. The sales lady came out twice to ask me if I needed anything or whether she should call someone for me. I scraped up the last bit of normality I could muster to smile at her and tell her I’m fine, that I’m just waiting for a friend.
That’s the only thing I know for certain is true. Nothing my father or anyone says will make me believe that Jax is not my friend. He was that from the first time we met, and whatever else happens between us, he always will be. I suppose I could’ve told Scar that Jax had broken out of prison to keep me safe from the guys that are supposedly after me, but I was too mad at him and too sure he’d twist it so it would make Jax look even more of a bad guy. I’ll deal with it later. I’m sure they’re all exaggerating anyway.
As for the rest of my plan, I still don’t know if it’s a good idea even as I watch the jeep with Nevada plates Jax told me he was driving pull up beside me.
He has the windows rolled down and is grinning at me, even says something, but I don’t hear it as I go around the car, toss my stuff in the back and get in.
“Drive,” I tell him.
