Crashing Into You

A text comes through from Flip.

I’m coming to you. You better have my money, Chris! – Flip

Shit.

I’ve got to get out of here.

I run to the bedroom and pull my duffle bag down off the shelf in the closet. Gathering whatever I can of my clothes off the floor I know I only have minutes to make my escape.

The loud engine of his truck flies down our gravel driveway and I make a run for the front door knowing he will come through the back. The front porch gate swings shut as I run down the rickety wooden stairs that have started to rot. A splinter digs into the bottom of my barefoot, but I bite my own tongue to stop from screaming.

My bare feet hit the damp fall grass, twigs poking me and the blades making my ankles itch as they make contact scratching my skin.

I run through the woods not knowing where to go or which way to turn as my lungs burn with exhaustion.

I come out on the freeway as traffic breezes by me. The headlights of a big rig blind me as I shield my eyes. The large loud truck rolls to a stop and the passenger door opens. An older woman pokes her head out. “Are you okay?”

I know I must look a mess. Dressed in pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt with holes in it. No shoes. My hair a tangled mess. “Can you give me a ride?”

She takes one pitying look at me. “Get in.”

I climb into the cab of the truck with her and another woman. “We’re heading north.”

“Sounds good.” I lay my head back and catch my breath.

**

THE TRUCK’S HYDRAULICSwhooshing wakes me as the rig stops on the side of the road next to a motel. “This is as far we go.”

“Thank you.” I offer them a weak but grateful smile.

“Good luck,” the women tell me and shove a wad of cash into my hands.

“I can’t...the ride was plenty.”

“You’ll need it.” The woman sitting closest to me closes my fist over the money. The bills crinkle into my palm.

“How can I thank you or reach you to pay you back because I will.”

“Just promise us that whatever situation you are running from that you won’t ever go back.”

I nod and lick my lips as I open the door.

“Here.” She reaches into the back of the truck and hands me a pair of boots. I slip them on my feet, trying not to cry. I grab my bag from the floorboard and give them a wave as they leave.

Across the road is a diner and gas station. My second stop after I get a room for the night.

I can’t stop the giggle that erupts from my chest when I read the name on the motel sign. The Hideaway.

Opening my fist, I smooth the money out in my hands, counting the bills. There is over three hundred dollars here. I look up at the cloudy sky and whisper a thank you to whomever is up there watching over me.

The old man working behind the counter watching the Today Show looks me over silently judging me. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“There won’t be any. All I need is a room for one night.”

He nods and slides the guestbook across the counter.

I count out sixty dollars and sign a fake name on the registry. Magnolia Grace. It’s what my mother wanted to name me, but my father wanted to name me after his grandmother, so they compromised and named me June Marie Lovering.

The man looks at the name and shakes his head but gives me the key to my room.

Inside I kick my borrowed boots off and start dumping the contents of my bag out onto the bed. I’m in desperate need of a shower. If Flip found Chris’s body and turned me in the police will already be looking for me.

I need a plan.

I look down at my belongings and that’s when I see a large brick of cocaine and the three largest stacks of cash I have ever seen in my life held together with rubber bands. My mouth opens, and falls shut. My palms start to sweat. I don’t know what to do with the drugs or the money, but my stomach growls and I need to take care of my basic needs, so I can think clearly.