Where I come from, if you see a hitcher, you pull over. It ain't about hospitality, or being a good Christian.
Shit.
It's about being a decent human being.
The name's Law Hubbard, and I work for Goldie Hazleton out of Papillion, Nebraska. If you're from Douglas county, and you ain't heard the name Hazleton, well then I guess you ain't never picked up a newspaper, or turned on a radio.
Mr. Hazleton is the big Cochise when it comes to running drugs and guns through the heartland. He's got connections all through Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota and Wyoming. Even Colorado.
A lot of people don't know it, but his real name is Colton Hazleton, and I'm his number two guy.
I ain't from Papillion, myself. I was raised out in Sheridan county. Mr. Hazleton told me Papillion's named after a butterfly. Shit, I bet you ain't never even heard of my home town. But I'll tell you this, I know this whole state like the back of my hand, that's for damn sure.
I've worked for Mr. Hazleton since I was sixteen. Started off painting his house. Then, I got promoted to landscaper. I did that for a couple years. Then, I ran errands for his wife, Samantha. Groceries mostly. His kids were in school somewhere in Europe and she was all alone in that big house. I did that for six months.
Then one day, Mr. Hazleton asks me if I could meet a fella down in Naponee and pick up a package, then get that package up to a garage in Lincoln. Shit, I did that trip in five hours flat, and got paid two hundred dollars for it. I'll get my shot at something more managerial-like soon. But for right now, the road is my office.
What do I drive? Shit, a black on black, 1975 Chev-ro-let Blazer.
She's a K5 with the four speed automatic and the four hundred big block. Ain't snow nor sleet that can stop me. I paid for her in cash right on the spot.
She even came with a cassette player. It don't fit my eight tracks, but the radio comes through clear as a bell.
Sitting right on the dash, I got me a brand new, top-of-the-line Bearcat 250 police scanner. Fifty channels, if you can believe that. I know where the speed traps are. I know where the police are having coffee. Hell, there ain't nothing on the open road I don't know about.
Lately I been running cash out to the boys in Valentine, and Bushnell. It's a lot of driving, but like I said, I know this state like the back of my hand. Mr. Hazleton sends me, cause he knows I make the drops on time, every time.
Except this one time.
So on this one trip, I'm heading up to Valentine. I got fifty grand in the glove box, and my loaded Chief's Special under the seat. Before you get all uppity, I ain't no psycho. I've had to pull it a couple times, sure, but I ain't ever fired the thing. Most times, all folks need is to see it pointed at 'em to get the hint.
Anyway, I'm going the usual way I do, the 275 takes you pretty much right there. But on this particular day, my Bearcat squawks around Valley, saying them police got traps south of Fremont. Well, that was right smack dab where I was headed. But them police can kiss my ass, cause you can take the 92 west all the way to Stapleton, and then straight up to Valentine.
If I put the hammer down, I'd make it there with time to spare. Like I said, I know this whole damn state like the back of my hand.
It was round bout Leshara that I saw her.
She had sunglasses on, long golden hair, and a straw hat with a blue ribbon tied round. She was walking backwards, kicking up dust with them black boots, and them hips of hers was just swinging like a church bell under those jean shorts.
She had her thumb out, but I was fixing to pull over anyway. That's just how I was raised. While she ran up, I combed back my hair and lit up a Winston. By the time she got to the window in a cloud of dust, I was leaning back, putting on my best Robert Mitchum face.
"Hey there." She was pulling some of that long yellow hair out of her mouth. I took a long drag off my smoke. She was beautiful.
"Hey yourself, Darlin." I said, cool as all hell. She pulled those sunglasses down her freckly nose and her eyes were blue like the summer sky. She shrugged her purse strap up higher on her shoulder.
"Can I catch a ride with you?" She asked. I remember the radio playing one hell of a Buck Owens tune.
"Well where you headed?" I asked back. I really didn't care. But it's part of the exchange in these encounters.
She looked back down the road, the way she came.
"Far away from here."
"You don't say?" I said, leaning across my long leather bench seat to pop the door for her. "Well hop on in, that's exactly where I'm headed."
Goddam, Lawrence Hubbard, you are one lucky sonofabitch.
We were cruising 92, making great time. The sky was bright and clear and the radio could do no wrong.
The young lady I'd picked up said her name was Lilly, like the flower. I figured she couldn't have been more than nineteen. She was all hectic, looking through her big blue leather bag, then looking in the mirror back down the road.
"Lilly," I said, "Shoot, that's about the prettiest name I ever heard." She smiled. I think she liked hearing that. But she seemed in an awful hurry to get out of whatever place she'd come from, which suited me just fine, seeing as I had a schedule to maintain myself.
Lilly'd been looking in the mirror for the last five miles. Maybe she was expecting to be followed, but if she'd care to ask I'da told her she ain't got no worry with me at the wheel.
On these back roads, no one 'cept the Devil himself could catch me.
"My names Lawrence," I said, seeing as she ain't asked yet, "but folks call me Law."
I guess my confidence eased her mind, cause after a time, she settled in and got herself comfortable. She put her hat on the dash and shook her long blonde hair out.
She asked me, "Mind if I take my boots off, Law?"
And I said, "Make yourself at home Darlin." She peeled those dusty black boots off, then put one little foot up on the dash. She had a blister above her heel.
"You call all the girls Darlin?" She asked. She was rubbing her foot, looking at me sideways. Damn if her bare legs didn't look good enough to eat.
I laughed. "I might do." I said, "But it's only on rare occasion that it befits."
"Well well, handsome
and
sweet." She said with a big grin.
She put her other foot up on the dash and started massaging it. I had a heck of a time keeping my eyes on the road and off them legs. If she saw me looking, she didn't say.
I make that trip every two weeks, and it gets a little more tedious every time. You can only look at so much corn and so much horizon. I had no idea how far up the road Lilly was going, and I didn't care. I take my job seriously, but I was obliged for the distraction.
Conway Twitty was belting out a brand new song as another cornfield went by.
"Law.." She said, like she was practicing how to say it, "Laaaaw.."
"Don't wear it out, Darlin" I told her. I lit up a Winston and checked those legs out a little more closely. Her knees were scraped up, and those thighs of hers went on forever. Her tanned leather vest was having a hard time keeping her tits from bouncing around.
This time I know she saw me looking. She smiled, but didn't seem to pay it no mind.
"You don't look the type that gets wore out easy, Law." She said. The hell if she wasn't playing with me. She leaned forward and put her head on her knee, looking at me all cutesy. "You think I could get one of them Winstons?" She had good taste in smoke too! But I had to know..
"You gotta be eighteen for these." I said all nonchalant. She chuckled like there was a joke I wasn't in on.
Then she smiled and said, "I'm old enough for a lot more than tobacco, Handsome."
Handsome was it? Well now, I could get used to that.
"Shoot Darlin, then you can have this one right here." I handed her the one I just lit, then lit another. She twirled it between her fingers in between drags. Her nails'd been painted red at some point, but they were chipped up so bad you could hardly tell.
You'd see waitresses dressed like her in the city, working at the bars or whatever. In their forties, divorced with a couple kids, all chewed up and spat out. Lilly looked like she might be running away from a similar such future.
"So," I said casual like, "what set of circumstances leads a fine young lady like yourself to be thumbing east on a day like today?"
Everything on her was moving, whipped up from her open window. The tassels on her vest, her golden hair and the cigarette smoke coming out from between those lips of hers. She was like a pretty little white trash twister. She was looking out the window when she finally answered me.
"What if.. this fine young lady just wanted to take a ride with a handsome stranger?" She asked all sly, "You know.. on a day like today?" This girl had a story to tell, but wasn't about to tell it all right away. That was fine by me, I'd play along.
I had a boot flask full of bourbon under my seat, right next to the 38. I took a nice pull off that and offered a taste to Lilly. She shook her head.
"Fair enough," I said, taking another swig, "Well then I guess I'd say it was destiny that put us both on that road back there at the exact same time." She laughed sort of, under her breath like.
Another cornfield passed us by in a blur.
She said, "Believe in fate, do you Law?" Yeah, this girl had some damage on her, she had a wall up, but I wasn't about to let that bother me none. I tucked the flask back under my seat.
I said, "Well now, there's fate, and then there's destiny, Darlin."
Lilly flicked her butt out the window and took off her sunglasses. Those blue eyes of hers were gorgeous.
