I glance into the rearview mirror and watch
the bills disappear into the night. The bills flow like a trail of smoke from
the car. A quick mental checklist reassures me that we have them all.
“Wait, only the hundreds!” I shout while grabbing her arm before the stack of twenties disappears through the sunroof.
The car jerks to the right before I return my full attention to the wheel. She falls into my lap as we swerve to the left and then the right again as I regain control. I wonder if the reports detailing the tendency of SUVs to roll over are true and quickly decide no.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell is your problem?” The car shakes as she shoves away from me and regains her kneeling perch in the passenger seat. The hairs on my neck stand tall as I steal a glance and notice the wild look in her eyes.
“Sorry, but those are real, just get rid of the hundreds.”
“Oh,” she slowly rubs the twenties with her thumb while looking back and forth between them and the hundreds. She leans against the dash and pulls the duffel bag into her lap.
“Are there more?” She speaks into the bag while rifling through the numerous bundles.
“A couple, so be careful, just take them out and dump the rest.”
“Why the hell did you mix’m up? Jesus, you’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, like I had a lot of time to plan and pack after getting that call.” I calculate how quickly I could get to the door and shove her out. I’m afraid she’d survive the fall and sing like a bird. I’ll take care of her later.
“Whatever,” she mutters as I glance at the bundle of twenties on the floorboard. She laughs uncontrollably while removing the rubber bands from the hundreds. She pokes a stack through opening and slowly releases the bills one by one.
I wonder how quickly they will be discovered. There are better ways to be rid of them, but nothing quicker. I convince myself that it is a necessary decision, because we can’t have them with us when we arrive.
The dashboard clock shoots four-fifteen in my direction. I smile thinking of Tommy saying the green glow of the clock resembles a devil. I wonder if I’ll ever see my son again. A loud thud breaks the trance. I put all of my weight on the brake pedal as the car screeches to a stop.
Burnt rubber fills my lungs as I step from the vehicle. The smoke slowly clears as I stand in front of the headlights and look down on a coyote as its final breath escapes. My heart races as its eyes slowly close.
“What is it?”
“Stay in the car!” I plot her out of the corner of my eye as the top half of her body protrudes from the sunroof - like the car is eating her.
“Yeah, like I’m coming out there.”
I suddenly feel exposed in the heavy night air. I’m a kid again as I scramble back to the car, slam the door and quickly lock it. The fear is unfounded, but the safety of the car is reassuring. I take a deep breath and rub my face.
“So?”
“A coyote, shit, I never saw it.” I shake my head thinking of the loss.
“Oh, big deal, they are a dime a dozen out here.”
“Yeah”
“What’s wrong with you? You act like we just hit your dog. Be a man!” She slaps my arm.
“Nothing, it’s nothing; I’m just a bit tired.”
“You want me to drive? You know, I got my license.”
“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway.” The car jerks forward as I push the gas. The ride is smooth after the initial bumps.
“Are they all gone?”
“I think so.”
I jerk the bag into my lap and perform a review of its contents and follow with a quick scan of the interior.
“What, you don’t believe me?” The hurt in her voice is obvious.
“No, I mean yes, I didn’t say that, but everybody makes mistakes.”
“Yeah, you should know.”
“What the hell does that mean?” My patience is reaching its end.
“Well, I’m not the one who passed one of the bills. No, that wasn’t me.”
“Yeah, okay.” It stings.
“Jesus, what were you thinking? You know who runs that place.”
“It was an accident, okay? I thought I had one of the real ones.”
“And now we have to try to get to Mack before they do. Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Yeah. Hey, give me one of those sandwiches.” I desperately want to change the subject – there’s no need to talk about our painfully obvious situation.
She tosses a sandwich in my lap. I tear the paper away and savor the mix of bologna and cheese. It takes me back to grandma’s house - the only thing missing is the mustard.
“Hey, stop, I need to pee.”
“There’s a bucket in the back.” I motion with my hand to the back seat. I have no desire to stop again.
“What, are you insane?”
“Maybe, but just fill it up and send it into the night.”
She sits quietly while examining the tin container. She turns it in her hands before sitting it down and unbuttoning her jeans.
“Don’t look.”
I shrug as my mind wanders to her taught body in bed this morning. The thirst for her body is unquenchable. I shift at the familiar movement in my shorts. The sound of the urine hitting the tin bucket echoes through the interior as we speed through the night.
“Wait, only the hundreds!” I shout while grabbing her arm before the stack of twenties disappears through the sunroof.
The car jerks to the right before I return my full attention to the wheel. She falls into my lap as we swerve to the left and then the right again as I regain control. I wonder if the reports detailing the tendency of SUVs to roll over are true and quickly decide no.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell is your problem?” The car shakes as she shoves away from me and regains her kneeling perch in the passenger seat. The hairs on my neck stand tall as I steal a glance and notice the wild look in her eyes.
“Sorry, but those are real, just get rid of the hundreds.”
“Oh,” she slowly rubs the twenties with her thumb while looking back and forth between them and the hundreds. She leans against the dash and pulls the duffel bag into her lap.
“Are there more?” She speaks into the bag while rifling through the numerous bundles.
“A couple, so be careful, just take them out and dump the rest.”
“Why the hell did you mix’m up? Jesus, you’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, like I had a lot of time to plan and pack after getting that call.” I calculate how quickly I could get to the door and shove her out. I’m afraid she’d survive the fall and sing like a bird. I’ll take care of her later.
“Whatever,” she mutters as I glance at the bundle of twenties on the floorboard. She laughs uncontrollably while removing the rubber bands from the hundreds. She pokes a stack through opening and slowly releases the bills one by one.
I wonder how quickly they will be discovered. There are better ways to be rid of them, but nothing quicker. I convince myself that it is a necessary decision, because we can’t have them with us when we arrive.
The dashboard clock shoots four-fifteen in my direction. I smile thinking of Tommy saying the green glow of the clock resembles a devil. I wonder if I’ll ever see my son again. A loud thud breaks the trance. I put all of my weight on the brake pedal as the car screeches to a stop.
Burnt rubber fills my lungs as I step from the vehicle. The smoke slowly clears as I stand in front of the headlights and look down on a coyote as its final breath escapes. My heart races as its eyes slowly close.
“What is it?”
“Stay in the car!” I plot her out of the corner of my eye as the top half of her body protrudes from the sunroof - like the car is eating her.
“Yeah, like I’m coming out there.”
I suddenly feel exposed in the heavy night air. I’m a kid again as I scramble back to the car, slam the door and quickly lock it. The fear is unfounded, but the safety of the car is reassuring. I take a deep breath and rub my face.
“So?”
“A coyote, shit, I never saw it.” I shake my head thinking of the loss.
“Oh, big deal, they are a dime a dozen out here.”
“Yeah”
“What’s wrong with you? You act like we just hit your dog. Be a man!” She slaps my arm.
“Nothing, it’s nothing; I’m just a bit tired.”
“You want me to drive? You know, I got my license.”
“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway.” The car jerks forward as I push the gas. The ride is smooth after the initial bumps.
“Are they all gone?”
“I think so.”
I jerk the bag into my lap and perform a review of its contents and follow with a quick scan of the interior.
“What, you don’t believe me?” The hurt in her voice is obvious.
“No, I mean yes, I didn’t say that, but everybody makes mistakes.”
“Yeah, you should know.”
“What the hell does that mean?” My patience is reaching its end.
“Well, I’m not the one who passed one of the bills. No, that wasn’t me.”
“Yeah, okay.” It stings.
“Jesus, what were you thinking? You know who runs that place.”
“It was an accident, okay? I thought I had one of the real ones.”
“And now we have to try to get to Mack before they do. Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Yeah. Hey, give me one of those sandwiches.” I desperately want to change the subject – there’s no need to talk about our painfully obvious situation.
She tosses a sandwich in my lap. I tear the paper away and savor the mix of bologna and cheese. It takes me back to grandma’s house - the only thing missing is the mustard.
“Hey, stop, I need to pee.”
“There’s a bucket in the back.” I motion with my hand to the back seat. I have no desire to stop again.
“What, are you insane?”
“Maybe, but just fill it up and send it into the night.”
She sits quietly while examining the tin container. She turns it in her hands before sitting it down and unbuttoning her jeans.
“Don’t look.”
I shrug as my mind wanders to her taught body in bed this morning. The thirst for her body is unquenchable. I shift at the familiar movement in my shorts. The sound of the urine hitting the tin bucket echoes through the interior as we speed through the night.
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