CHAPTER 1
Flint Jackson yawned his way across the near-empty supermarket parking lot, thumbs tucked into the shoulder straps of his backpack, black Acubra at a rakish angle hiding most of his tight blond curls.
He wondered didn't American women have anything better to do? The supermarket had opened at 7:00 and already at 7:25 there were forty vehicles parked and more arriving. The community was small, center of cropping farms, horse spreads and cattle ranches from what he's seen coming in yesterday riding an 18-wheeler driven by a surly guy who took Flint's last twenty bucks some 120 miles out. Arriving in the town the driver showing very bad teeth simply said, "Get out."
Last night Flint had slept under a hedge and hadn't eaten. Now he was heading for the public restrooms adjacent to the supermarket to wash up before asking at the supermarket could he push trolleys for a couple of days. He needed to earn enough cash for a bed in a doss house and food for the table β er, to eat off a paper towel on a street bench most likely.
He noticed a woman struggling to lift a huge bag of dog biscuits on to the cargo box of her red F-150.
"Excuse me ma'am may I assist?"
"No."
"Just step aside ma'am and I'll lift it by myself. A neat looking chick like you should be in the salon getting her finger nails done instead of doing hard yakka like this."
She paused and looked at him almost displaying interest. "What part of the world are you from, talking messed up English like that? "Yakka, a neat looking chick; I ask you?"
"Simple ma'am. I'm from Australia where hard yakka means hard work and a neat looking chick means a lovely looking young lady, but frowning and panting you're not looking at your best at the moment but your body is the finest I've seen in a month of Sundays. While we are on the subject, may I say nobody has screwed up English more than Americans?"
"May I say something now?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And don't call me ma'am. I'm not married."
"Wow, with that declaration this could be my lucky day. You're not gay are you?"
"How dare you!"
"Please don't get your knickers in a knot. My mom and sisters say I tease far too much for any woman to like me."
"Well at least someone in your family is focused and intelligent. Oh dammit, look what you've made me say, something quite insulting."
"Rein in baby, I'm not offended."
The fluffed up woman looked ready to wop Flint one. "How dare you call me baby; in this country that's an endearment used by a man to his lady friend."
"You grouched about me calling you ma'am, or rather prohibited me from calling you that, leaving me with few options."
She studied him carefully and said he looked like he'd slept under a hedge.
"I did."
"Now you are teasing again."
"I'm not, I promise you."
"When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday, breakfast time. Two pieces of toast and an apple."
"Ohmigod, help me load and then come with me. I'm Larissa Stevens. You touch me and I'll knock you into next week."
"Understood Larissa. My name is Flint Jackson and I come from east of Sydney."
Larissa glared but Flint handed her the eggs, his mind on the job, and with effortless ease lifted the supermarket trolley and tipped the load out relatively gently and didn't scratch the paintwork with the metal trolley.
"How did you do that," she gawked. "That was very heavy β my supermarket shopping for two weeks for a family of three."
Flint chose not to answer, not wishing to offend her by discussing the dynamics of power lifting to somebody who probably thought four pound packs of anything was a load.
"Hand me the keys Larissa, cute name, and point me in the right direction."
"Let you drive β you could be an escaped criminal?"
"American Immigration doesn't allow criminals into the country."
"Oh."
Flint had an idea about how to calm her. God she was uptight. He pulled out his wallet and showed her a picture of his mum with him at Sydney Airport.
"She's a lovely woman. God, look at her tan."
"Very trustworthy looking isn't she?"
"Yes, of course."
"And who looks a lot like her?"
Larissa hedged but finally said he did. "I'm sorry for giving you a hard time."
"So you are about to kiss me as an encore to that apology."
She hesitated so Flint kissed her lightly on the lips. She sighed and said she knew he'd do that and walked to the passenger side, handing him the keys as he slid behind the wheel.
"First I must tell you about the braking system..."
Flint reversed and was off smoothly to the exit. "Dad drives one this exact model with right-hand drive of course."
"Oh."
"Where to baby?"
"To Rigby Diner. It's on the far end of Main Street. What did you just call me?"
Flint patted her thigh and told her not to worry; it was only an endearment.
"You touched me," she shrieked. "I distinctly told you not to touch me."
"Cool it baby. I'm the guy like my mum who you trust, remember?"
"You are a real smart-ass. You may only touch me with permission, do you hear?"
"Yes, okay, but don't take too long handing out permission."
Larissa sat back and sighed.
Flint was replete with a piece of thick steak, fries, two corn fritters and two pieces of bread in his stomach β Larissa chose a vegetarian breakfast wrap and paid. They drove on out to the ranch, Flint still at the wheel because Larissa said she felt safer with him behind the wheel, occupied, while she struggled to get used to him.
"Will you loan me a few bucks? Mom promised to transfer $200 bucks a week to my American bank account for the first four of my five weeks in America and a thousand bucks on my last week two hundred of that for me and the rest to spend on buying really good presents for the family. The second installment is due Friday."