“You think you were cool? Flirting with that guy?” Leo’s voice hit a new pitch.
+++++“I tasted his martini, that’s all.” Erica turns up the music. The lyrics dovetail with the scene in the car: Well, you done, done me in, you bet I felt it.
+++++Leo switches off the music. “That’s not all, and you know what I’m talking about!”
+++++“Stop being a jerk! And slow down!”
+++++Everything has gone wrong from the moment they arrived at Antony’s Club. She was having fun, making eyes at locals, hitting on guys for drinks. Just fun. No reason for Leo to push her around.
+++++Leo, driving too fast on an unknown road, says, “When you sober up and apologize, we’ll forget the whole thing.”
+++++“You expect me to forget being dragged off the dance floor like a slut?”
+++++“You were dancing like a slut!”
+++++“Am I supposed to sit all night because you don’t like to dance?” One thing is certain, Leo expects her to be his puppet. They came to Beaufort for the weekend to patch things up but she’s not patching anything up.
+++++“You’re disgusting!” He slams on the brakes. “Get out of the car.” The car lurches to a stop.
+++++“What?”
+++++He unlatches her seat belt, shoves her against the passenger door, and propells her out of the car. Erica tumbles out the open door and falls on the grassy shoulder. The door slams shut. The car pulls away.
+++++She expects it to stop any minute and turn around, but the tail lights disappear. She is alone on a gravel road bordered by trees and swamps. The moon disappears behind clouds. The dark is so deep there’s no road, only the sound of her breathing. The sound of wind in the leaves. How can Leo just leave her there?
+++++People have died from moccasins. Animals with rabies. Serial killers. The moonlight reappears and her eyes can see again. Should she turn back toward the night club? Without her handbag, which is in Leo’s car, she can’t phone anybody.
+++++The summer air smells like the marsh is rotting. She glimpses a shadowy creature crawling in the grass and runs until she turns an ankle.
+++++A low pitched hum approaches from behind. She sees two lights through the mist. She’s afraid of the lights and afraid of the dark. A car…it’s a car. She stands in the middle of the road and waves her arms.
+++++A black Cadillac sedan the size of a hearse appears. The window rolls down. “Get in” says a man smoking a cigar. His grin reminds Erica of bad stories about hitchhikers.
+++++“Do you have a phone I can use for a minute?” She calls through the window.
+++++“I’ve got one. Get in the car and you can use it.”
+++++“Why are you wearing sunglasses at night?”
+++++“You want a ride or don’t you?”
+++++His eyes might be bloodshot. They might have slits for pupils.
+++++Does she dare? Does she dare not? She sees in the shadowy interior a little girl asleep in the back seat. Perhaps he has a daughter…perhaps he is okay. She gets into the passenger seat.
+++++The car speeds away.
+++++“Wait! I just need to use your phone.”
+++++He laughs. “Honey, if you can get a connection out here, what are you going to tell Uber? Pick me up on Highway 36 between a live oak and the marsh grass?”
+++++She hadn’t even known it was Highway 36. “Can you drop me off at the next gas station?” This trip to Beaufort has put her miles from her family and friends. It was supposed to be a weekend to patch things up with Leo.
+++++“You been partying?” He stares ahead as they tunnel through the dark.
+++++“Why do you ask?” Erica says.
+++++“You’re all dolled up, red lipstick, like you expecting a man.” He chews on his cigar.
+++++“I dress for myself. Like everybody else,” she says.
+++++He wears a black shirt half unbuttoned, rolled up sleeves. “You going to college?”
+++++“Why do you ask?”
+++++“You act so smart.”
+++++A deer leaps into the road and the car swerves. Erica takes a deep breath as they curve back into the road. The little girl in the back has shifted to the edge of the seat. Erica reaches back and settles her safely. “That your daughter?”
+++++“Who?”
+++++“The little girl in the back seat.”
+++++He glances over his shoulder. “She’s been a bad girl.”
+++++“What did she do?”
+++++He laughs. “Let’s just say she got burned on a cigar.”
+++++“Is she all right?”
+++++“She’s still bad.” He spits out the window.
+++++“Did you take her to a doctor?”
+++++“You think I’m stupid or something?”
+++++“No..It’s just that she might need treatment. She’s not moving or anything.”
+++++“Let her not move. She’s better that way.”
+++++A glimmer of light appears ahead. “Let me out here, at this gas station.”
+++++“This is a dump. No place for a girl like you.” He speeds past a run down gas station.
+++++Erica swallows hard to keep her senses.
+++++“Where you going anyway?” His long fingernail plucks a tobacco bit from his teeth.
+++++She doesn’t want to say Back to the hotel at Beaufort, so instead she says, “Back home. Mom’s probably worried about me.”
+++++He chuckles. “Some guy dump you out here in the middle of no where?”
+++++Erica can’t think of an answer.
+++++“What you do? Rub him the wrong way?”
+++++Erica looks out the window.
+++++“Yeah, I know your kind. You get all done up, snag some bud, and hold out on him. You do or you don’t, you will or won’t. Yeah…A man can only take so much of that.”
+++++“Let me out at the next gas station. My mom’s going to be worried sick about me.”
+++++“What kinda mom lets you leave the house in the middle of the night wearing clothes like that?” His smile sends a chill down her spine.
+++++What is wrong with her clothes? Is he coming on to her? Her stomach takes a turn. “My brother’s a police officer. He’ll be worried too.”
+++++“Your mama’s worried. Your brother’s worried. There’s no need to worry. I’ll get you where you’re going.”
+++++What does that mean? “Get me where? Where am I going?”
+++++“That’s the way it is. Everybody going somewhere. Kinda like ants crawling around until somebody stomps on them.” He pats her knee. She reaches to take his hairy hand off but his hand lets go of her knee and grabs her hand.
+++++Lights appear ahead. “Let me off here.” She thinks the Cadillac is slowing down. She unbuckles her seat belt. It’s a bright new gas station. They’re slowing down, aren’t they? They absolutely must slow down but the station is rushing toward them. Her legs shoot across the console. Her high heeled shoe stabs his leg. “Stooooop!!!” she is screaming her head off as he elbows her face. She lunges and wrestles for the steering wheel. She has the wheel. He has. She has.
+++++The customer filling up with gas at the station looks up as the Cadillac hurtles from the road, grazes a light pole on the opposite side of the street, and stops. The customer quickly puts the nozzle in its holster and crosses the road, calling 911.

[Image Credit : Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash]

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Bonnie Stanard

Bonnie Stanard is an award winning writer of short stories, novels, and poetry. Her work has appeared in journals such as The Hollins Critic, The American Journal of Poetry, Wisconsin Review, and Broad River Review. Her historical fiction novels, children’s books, and poetry books are available at various online venues. She lives in Lexington, SC, USA.

Latest posts by Bonnie Stanard (see all)

• How Far Is the Gas Station? - October 11, 2024