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He lets out a long breath. “No. Of course it's not a problem. I'm about two hours or so from Jacksonville, so about eight hours from you.”
Pacing back and forth, he nods. “Wonderful. See you in Atlanta at Club Risco.”
Looking at me again, he gestures to my clothes on the floor and for me to get dressed. “The back of the building. Got it.”
He slips the phone in his back pocket and makes a beeline for the bathroom.
“Tony?”
“Not now. I'm busy.”
The bathroom door shuts and my stomach knots. He's mad at me again. I thought if I made him feel good, he'd give me more praises. I did make him feel good, didn't I? I think back to his elated eyes and sexy noises. Yes, he definitely felt something, and no way was it bad. No one sounds or looks the way he did when they feel bad. Then again, what do I know? I've never done anything with anyone else before this.
The door opens and Antonio is all put together again with his hair slicked back. “Wash up and get dressed, then meet me at the car.”
“What about the man in the closet?”
“I'll worry about him. You go do what I asked.”
“Yeah, okay.” Once out of bed, I grab my clothes and go to the bathroom. I take longer than yesterday to wash up, unable to shake the sinking sensation inside. Why’d I have to push him? I'm so eager for us to move forward that I keep doing things to set us back where we were at the very beginning.
The room is empty when my face is washed and my teeth are brushed. I shove my toothbrush and toothpaste in my back pocket while searching for the plastic bag my snacks are in. After adding the last two sandwiches and drinks from the fridge, I head out the door and hot air wraps around me. It's stuffy and humid this morning. It doesn't help that my mood no longer matches the sky.
“What are you waiting for?” Antonio sticks his head out of the rental as I approach the passenger side. “No. Today you'll ride in the back.” I've gone back way further than I realized. Way beforethe hand holding, making him laugh, and sitting so close I could smell the mint on his breath.
Sitting so far away feels weird and hurts more than I thought it would. It's only been three days and this already feels so wrong. I need his hand resting on my leg or our arms to touch. Anything. I'll settle for a run-of-the-mill handshake if I have to.
“It's really hot back here.”
“I'll turn up the air.”
“Can we listen to music today?”
Shuffling sounds and banging comes from the trunk and Antonio slams his hand on the dash. “We'll have to if we don't want to hear that shit for eight hours.” Once his phone is connected to the car, he hits shuffle on a playlist. I close my eyes, focusing on the lyrics of each song, occasionally dozing off.
Neither of us talks for hours and I keep quiet, hoping it'll get me in his good graces again. I'm also feeling run down and out of energy for any real conversation right now anyway. Eighty-five songs and three exits later, we stop at a gas station. He gets gas at an empty rest stop area and we both use the restroom without exchanging a single word. It's not until we're back in the car and getting on the highway again that he finally breaks the silence. “Why didn't you make your getaway while you had a chance?”
“Huh?” I ask, about to shove a chip in my mouth.
“That stunt you pulled earlier. It was done so I was distracted, wasn't it? You should have used the opportunity because you won't get another.”
“What stunt? I said I'd show you the other thing aside from food that helped my mood, so I did.”
He briefly eyes me in the mirror before looking at the road again. “I thought that was sleep.”
“Oh. I forgot about that one. I guess it can fall under number three.”
“I don't get you, burrito.”
“The feeling is mutual, big guy.”
He stops talking again and I fall asleep for the rest of the way, not waking up until I hear a gunshot and scream. I'm alone in the car and it's dark outside. Where the hell are we? Where's Antonio?
Another shot is fired and I look around frantically, scooting to the middle of the long seat. It's so dark outside and all I can make out is a figure running my way. I'm about to check if the door is locked when I hear Antonio's voice yelling through the window.
Bang!
His mouth stops moving and blood pours from his head. No. No. No. He sways back and forth before crashing to the ground. More figures approach me and I close my eyes, curling into myself, trying to do the exercises Antonio showed me.
