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“You mean that?” he asks, glancing down at me.
And he’s not talking about my hand on his crotch either.
Do I mean it about how far south as in, should we turn around right now?
“What about your friends that can help?” I ask him.
If I’m already the reason for him making our escape like this, I don’t want to be the one messing it up for us either.
Just because I don’t want to go south doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.
“What are our real choices?” I ask Rocco, pressing him to be totally realistic.
“This could get life or death, couldn’t it?” I ask, and he gives me a pained expression.
“Not for you. Not for us,” he says, sounding totally badass, but it’s not the answer I need right now to convince me he’s doing the right thing.
“Rocco, I don’t want us to turn around now and be the reason it’s all fucks up later,” I manage to explain.
Hoping I don’t sound too crazy, but I know he understands what I mean.
He doesn’t say anything right away, but after about a quarter of a mile, he slows the truck and checking both ways, he turns us around.
Heading north.
“Take it however you want, Jasmine,” he drawls. “But you got me thinking just now if I go to regular help. I’m likely to get regular results.”
I must look confused.
“Meaning: If I use family contacts to get us out of the country, how hard is it, or rather how easy would it be forsaidFamily to find me? To find us.”
He lets his words sink in, and I get it.
It really is life or death, but Rocco’s only looking out for me as number one.
He’s number two because I know the other is nothing anyway without one of us right now.
“There’s a town not far north,” he finally grins, making his brow dance with suggestions as he makes some more pressing plans involving us stopping someplace.
Someplace nicer than an old abandoned house in a storm.
“Does it have a hot shower, this town I mean?” I ask, knowing full well the nearest ‘town’ is, in fact, a major city.
“Oh yeah,” he says enthusiastically. “And we might be able to pick up some new clothes too. For the sake of changing our appearance, of course,” he reasons, liking the look of my smile as I agree with him.
“Oh, of course, we wouldn’t want to stick out or look too suspicious,” I add, trying not to laugh.
But after we’ve driven some more miles and listed off almost everything I’m craving right now, everything I could possibly spend money on, we both fall silent.
Knowing that all we really want is to know we won’t be disturbed while we do what we’re craving right now, each other.
“That’s funny,” Rocco muses, checking both of the side mirrors.
I feel a nervous jot ripple across my belly.
Never liking it whenever Rocco thinks anything’s out of place or unusual.
It scares me.
