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I was sold to one man and I’m not sure I want to be shackled to another. This man is trustworthy, and he has a moral code, one I know I can believe in, but it’s been years since I’ve stood on my own two feet. For a while, I want to find out who I am and see if I can survive without a man. Do it all on my own.
The car pushes forward, eating up the miles under a sky that’s slowly getting darker. We’re still on the road, our destination a hazy outline on the horizon, not yet within our grasp. With the promise of a new day, I’m hopeful we’ll reach New York. And that anticipation coils in my chest, a flicker of warmth against the cold uncertainty, setting the stage for whatever comes next.
Chapter Three
JD
This is the longest trip to New York I’ve ever taken. I’m being overly cautious but the more time I spend with Cheree the more I don’t want our time to end. So, maybe, I’m stretching it out, hoping she might want to spend time with me as well.
“JD, where are we headed?” Cheree’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“North,” I grunt. “But we’ll need to change vehicles one more time before we get to New York. Something that blends.” I glance at her. “And I could do with a meal and a good night’s sleep.”
Cheree nods and we ride in silence for a stretch. Then, like a beacon, it catches my eye—a weathered “For Sale” sign staked in the gravel shoulder of the road, flapping like a flag of surrender. I slow the car and pull over.
“Let’s check it out.”
“JD, you sure about this?” Cheree asks.
“Trust me.”
I kill the engine then open the door my feet crunch on the gravel as I step out. Cheree gets out too, raising her arms above her head and stretching. Her t-shirt rises up, showing some skin. She’s beautiful and I want her, but Cheree has made it clear she doesn’t need or want a man.
“Let’s see what fate’s got on the lot today,” I say as I point at the car.
To my surprise she walks toward me, and her fingers slide into mine. Cheree looks at our joined hands.
“It’ll make it easier if we look like a couple. Come on, JD, let’s see how much they want for the blue beast.”
The car squats on the cracked pavement, with a coat of dust and scars from years on the road. It’s an older model, built when cars were meant to last, not just shine. The rugged tires look ready to chew up miles of asphalt, and the steel frame promises a haven against the storms we’re riding into.
“Solid,” I mutter, running a hand over the hood, feeling the heat from its sunbaked surface. Cheree stands beside me, her eyes measuring the car as if she can see the miles it’s clocked.
“Looks like it could take a hit,” she says.
“Or give one,” I reply, tapping the metal with a knuckle. The sound is a reassuring thunk, a promise of reliability.
The seller, a man with oil under his fingernails, leans against the open garage door. “She’s got more heart than any of those new plastic toys they make nowadays,” he says, crossing his arms.
“Mind if I take a closer look?” I ask, already moving toward the driver’s side door. He nods, and I slide into the seat, the leather cracked but comfortable.
“Engine?”
“Rebuilt it myself,” the man boasts, and I believe him. There’s honesty in the grime that clings to his skin, the kind you can’t fake. “The keys are on the visor. Turn her on and see how she sounds.”
The car roars to life and although I’m not an expert, she sounds in good condition.
“Let’s talk price,” I say, stepping out of the car and fixing my gaze on him.
The old guy pushes off the garage door and frowns. “A thousand.”
It’s too high for comfort, but the negotiation has just begun. “I’m seeing a few issues needing attention,” I counter, my voice even. I point out a couple of dents, the wear on the tires, playing the game we both know so well.
We go back and forth, two fighters in the ring. Every dollar shed from his price feels like a small victory, every concession a step closer to getting us out of this mess. I can read his tells, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way his eyes flick to the car when I highlight a flaw.
“Final offer, six hundred dollars and you can have our car as well,” I state. The sum is fair, leaves us enough to keep running, keeps him from feeling robbed. It’s the balance that matters in deals like these—nobody walks away feeling cheated.
“Deal,” he finally grunts, and we shake on it, his hand rough in mine.
