Pulling over to the shoulder, I put the car in park. Climbing out of the red '96 Ford Thunderbird, I was pretty sure I already knew what was wrong, but that didn't make things any better when I walked around the front of the car to the passenger side. "Shit," I whispered, looking down at the blown tire. I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly, trying to calm the growing frustration within. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."
True, it wasn't as though the car was totaled. Hell, there hadn't even been an accident. In fact, I noticed as I did a quick look up and down the street, that there wasn't even another car in sight. This time of night, almost eleven thirty if I wasn't mistaken, that didn't come as a shock. I'd been on my way home from a friend's house, driving down a road I'd taken hundreds of times before when I felt the car start to shake. That was when I'd pulled over. "What the hell am I gonna do now," I wondered aloud, leaning back against the hood of the car. I didn't have a cell phone, I'd never been very good at making the payments, and the spare that I did have was nearly out of air as well. It had almost saved me a couple of months ago when I'd blown another tire on my way to work. That was when I'd learned of the state it was in. I'd kept telling myself that as soon as I had the time, I'd take it down to the gas station and fill it up. Unfortunately I'd never found the time.
"This is just great," I mumbled just under my breath, "Just fucking great!" In a moment of rage, I turned around and kicked the front bumper as hard as I could. A moment later I had my shoe off and I was rubbing my tender foot.
The longer I sat here, the more apparent it was becoming that nobody was going to be passing by anytime soon. The road I was on was a back way. Thought it wasn't quite a back country dirt road, it probably saw about the same amount of traffic. It was surrounded by trees and woodlands on either side which probably made it seem even darker than it was. Opening the door to turn my flashers on, I reached over and grabbed my pack of smokes off the passenger seat. Locking the door, I lit a cigarette and started to walk. At least it wasn't a cold night, and it wasn't raining or anything like that. Those thoughts were my desperate attempt to find some kind of silver lining. As I walked, I began to wonder exactly what I was going to do once I reached my destination. I lived with family, but they'd all be asleep by now, and I really couldn't think of anybody else, at least anybody who's number I could remember. I supposed there was always Rachel, but I really didn't want to trouble her.
A slight breeze began to pick up, doing it's best to thwart my attempts at lighting another cigarette shortly after I stubbed the last one out on the road. In the end, my determination won out though.
I walked like that for probably the better part of an hour before I could finally make out the intersection in the distance. What little there was of this town was pretty much built along it. The lights of the gas station were visible now. Though the building was closed, the pumps would be open all night. Too bad I didn't need gas. Just beyond that I could see the outline of an old church. I honestly wasn't even sure if the place was still open, but it had been standing there for as long as I'd been taking this road. On the opposite side of the street I could see the lights from the bar and the parking lot. At least it looked like I'd made it before they'd closed down for the night. As I approached, I decided I'd probably have to call Rachel. She was the only one I could think of who might still be up.
From the outside, the establishment looked rather plain. Simply another building with glass windows, doors, and wooden siding. There was one of those OPEN signs in the window in the shape of a beer bottle. Personally, I'd always found those things a little corny, but right now I certainly wasn't here to judge. As long as they had a phone I could use, this place was alright by me. I pushed the door open and made my way into the dimly lit room. What it lacked in lighting, it made up for in sound. There were people all around talking and laughing and a few who were shouting at each other.
The center of the main room was the bar. It was basically a large square with silver colored bar stools lining the outside. Most of the stools were taken. As you got further away from that focal point, there were small, raised wooden tables, many of which were occupied by men and women enjoying their drinks. Finally, around the outer wall of the room were booths. Again there were people there enjoying their drinks and conversations, and a few who were getting kind of cozy with each other.
With purpose, I made my way toward the bar. I could already see the bartender mixing a drink for a young brunette, probably not much past her twenty-first. If it weren't for Rachel, I might have approached her. Well, Rachel and the rather bulky looking biker who was chatting her up. Either way I was holding out for Rachel. We'd known each other since sixth grade and we'd been the best of friends. Sometimes, when we were in our teens, we used to joke that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, but that was as far as it had gone. Now I wanted more, and I wasn't exactly sure what she wanted. Finally I grabbed the bartender's attention.
He was a young man, definitely under thirty, with short blond hair and dark green eyes. He was wearing a tight blue t-shirt that showed off his well defined musculature and probably got him a fair amount of attention from the ladies. I had to give him credit. If I had a body like that, I would have been showing it off too. I wasn't fat or anything, just average. I'd tried many times over the years to work out and build some muscles, but it never seemed to take.
The man walked over to me, "What'll it be?"
"Nothing to drink," I told him, speaking loud enough to be heard over the din. "My car blew a tire a ways back. I was hoping you'd have a phone I could use to call a lift."
"Sure," he said, pointing toward the back of the crowded room. "There's a payphone right back by the bathrooms."
"Thanks," I said.
He responded with a nod and went off to help another customer.
I made my way back toward the phone, and decided I should probably use the facilities as well. After I zipped back up, I walked over the mirror and took a quick look at my reflection as I washed my hands. Boy did I look tired. The wind had completely messed up my short brown hair, causing it to stick out in every direction, and there were the beginnings of dark circles just below my hazel eyes. And boy did I need to shave. I shook my head, first I needed to call Rachel and get the hell home. Or, I thought with a smirk, back to her place. The night was still young. Maybe I could convince her to...
My train of thought derailed as I felt a hand lightly grip my shoulder. Instinctively, though I could have just looked into the mirror, I turned. There was a man standing behind me. His hair was jet-black and neatly combed, and his eyes were a deep shade of blue. There was just the inkling of stubble on the bottom of his chin and just below his short nose, and his rather lean looking build was hidden beneath a rather expensive looking black suit.
"Excuse me," I said forcefully, lifting his hand away.
"Well, aren't you a feisty one," he said playfully. "I like feisty."
"Good for you," I said uncomfortably, stepping back and bumping into the sink. "Unfortunately I don't play for your team pal, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just back the fuck off." I was leaning against the sink now, feeling more uncomfortable than I could remember feeling in a long time. The smile on his face was eerie.
"Are you sure?" he asked, taking a short step forward. For a moment I didn't move as I felt and saw the back of his hand stroking my cheek, "Because I could make you feel really good tonight." His hand sent a chill down my spine, and not the good kind.
"Look buddy, I'm gonna give you one more chance to back off. I'm not gay and I'm not interested. I honestly don't care if you are... I could give a rat's ass, but if you don't stop hitting on me..."
"What?" he whispered, moving in closer. "What are you going to do about it?"
"This," I said with gusto. The punch caught me off guard, and I was the one who threw it, so I could only imagine how surprised he'd been. It felt like life was happening in slow motion as I watched my fist make contact with the left side of his jaw, watched him fall backwards and land on his ass.
"Now, leave me the fuck alone," I told him, getting out of there as quickly as I could. I thought about calling Rachel, but decided I didn't want to be standing right outside the bathroom when that guy came walking out. Instead, I made my way toward the bar. I decided I'd watch for grabby to leave, and then use the phone.
