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It’s the least I can do so she can make up her own mind before the border whether or not she wants to attach herself to someone like me and the life I'm leaving behind. And that’s really my whole point in telling her. To explain that everything I've done up until today is finished now, because of her.
Because of us.
I want to curl up with her, to stroke her hair and listen to her breathe until she falls asleep in my arms. But before either of us can do anything like that I gotta finish this last run. We have to get across the border too, if my plan to retire from the life is gonna work. And Petra seems to sense it as much as I'm thinking it. Nuzzling into me as I drive and listening to everything I tell her, even though she doesn’t look up much.
Only making a low comment about how I wasn’t kidding when I said I have to keep moving. “There’ll be plenty of time for more of that once I’m done.” I assure her, drawing a low purr from her before she exhales with a sigh.
She doesn't even flinch when I start by explaining how I came into the life. How I was wrongfully accused and imprisoned for the abduction and murder of the girl. She doesn't even ask the obvious, ‘did you do it though?’ question. She only clicks her tongue and shifting herself just a little in my grip, she asks what the girl’s name was.
“I- I don't even remember…” I confess. Making my guts churn out of habit at the memory of it all. The whole thing like fragments of a bad dream in my mind still, even after all these years. But at least she understands why they call me Psycho Trucker a little better. Even if it is the worst reason in the world. Well… Maybe the second reason next to if I’d actually done it. And even then, there’s something in her eyes when she does look up at me that tells me, even if I had done it. I know she'd still feel the same way about me as I do about her.
Because she's changed me. She’s the one thing I’ve needed my whole life to start anew. And that’s what I’m trying to explain to her really. How meeting her tonight, having connected with her in a way nobody else could, I just know we’re destined to be together forever.
“So they arrested you and locked you up for a crime you never committed?” She finally asks, shaking her head to herself after a few miles of silence. I don't wanna put her off by telling her everything in five minutes… Nobody wants that much information. Hell. I still hadn't come to terms with my life after all these years and nobody ever sat down and explained it to me.
I grunt a reply, never wanting to stay on that part of history for too long. “After that, I could only get the kind of work that lands you right back in jail,” I go on, “And only the wrong kinda people need truckers like me.” I add. Feeling her recoil a little. The fresh memory of her would-be captors racing through her mind. I can feel it in her.
“I- I guess I could’ve ended up someplace worse tonight, huh?’ She asks, making me feign hurt.
“Thanks…” I murmur, but she knits her brow and there’s a stern face staring up at me. “I mean it, P.T… If you hadn’t come along when you did- If they’d grabbed me like they did that other girl-” She starts to say. But I shush her with my finger over her mouth.
“No more of that,” I command her, “You're mine now, so nobody’s gonna come anywhere near you without my say so.” I promise her.
“But… Those men… Those types of men-” I start to say. Stuck for words when I try to think how am I really any different? Doing what I’m told for money. Or even worse, doing what I’m told so I can keep my neck for one more day. But Petra seems to understand more than she lets on.
“I don't think you'rethatkind of man. Do you?” She asks, recovering her good mood.
“No.” I answer her without thinking, “No I'm not that kind of man.”
You’ll see…If you let me show you just how good a man I can be from now on.
She hugs my arm, squeezing it tight enough to remind me of my injury, making me wince. “Oh my god, your arm!” She exclaims, making me smile through my grimace because I know exactly what's made the pair of us forget all about my arm. Or almost anything else for the past few hours at least.
She reaches for a first aid kit that’s not the same one as before, making me think aloud.
“You sure do know your way around the inside of a truck,” I comment, shifting my eyes from the road long enough to catch a decent view of her ass before she shimmies back over.
“And I know my way around truckers,” She boasts, but it makes me frown.
“I mean- I know my way aroundthistrucker…” She adds quickly, getting a grunt of approval for the right answer. The only answer I ever wanna hear out of her mouth when it comes to her knowing that kinda thing. I’ve only had her a little while and already I’m dismembering any man who even looks at her. Already picturing myself choosing out her clothes and rewarding her when she lets me fuss over her.
Because she's worth it.
Worth a thousand lifetimes of being treated like a queen. So if I’m a little over the top about that kind of thing she's just gonna have to get used to it. I can see more of her face and definitely more of her hot little body now we’re on the freeway. The overhead lights casting their usually eerie yellow glow inside the cab, looking more like gold when it hits her features. The rig could drive itself from here, nothing but a straight line for four hours, but I keep my eyes ahead. Only snatching little glances down at her as she busies herself with my arm.
She’s gnawing at her lip and I know it’s not only because she wants to concentrate on patching me up. “What is it?” I ask her, knowing how important even the slightest thing could be. I’ve told her everything I can about me but apart from how cute, how fucking tight she is? And the fact she's no longer a virgin, there’s not a helluva lot I know about Petra… See? I don't even know her last name and I’m already planning on giving her mine.
I got a choice of around two dozen, so she can pick whichever one she likes best.
“Is it about those men?” I ask, already knowing it is. She nods.
“Thing is…” She starts to say but shakes her head, “…It doesn't matter. I’m with you now, so…”
“What is it?” I ask her again, not surprised by her answer but annoyed with myself for not asking her sooner.
“There was three of ‘em… The night they took that girl. Two grabbed her and another driving. I think it was the driver who saw me.” She says with certainty.
“There’s way more than three of them.” I assure her, doing a terrible job of setting either of our minds at ease. I’ll be looking over my shoulder often enough as it is without needing the added pressure of goddamned suits lurking around. What kind of life would that be for her? For our kids?
