(This chapter has mild violence and no sex, but next chapter will have sexy times again, I promise.)
At the hub Mack turned in a stack of paperwork and parked his truck, now trailer-less or "bobtail," as he called it, making Ashleigh giggle every time, near enough to the laundromat that it wouldn't be a hassle to get the truck cleaned up. It really needed it by now. Ashleigh hummed busily as she helped tidy up the truck, and he had to admit it was nice to have her around even if she was kind of a pain in his ass right about now.
Once the truck was cleaned out and laundry done, they took advantage of the hub's free showers. Ashleigh was relieved to find the hub was less complicated than the truck stop, and if he ever had to leave her here she would be less intimidated.
But not this time
, she thought to herself,
he's taking me with him whether he wants to or not.
"Come on," he gestured, "we'll borrow one of the company cars and go get some food, maybe some more clothes for you." She hesitated. "Mack, I can't really afford-" but he cut her off. "I don't have a house or anyone to spend money on, except my truck. Don't worry about it. What I said last night," he hesitated, "was true, even if I didn't mean to say it." She decided to let him prove it by spoiling her, this time.
After their shopping excursion was over she took her sacks of new clothing to the laundromat to wash away whatever chemicals may have been sprayed on them in shipping, or whatever rubbed off on them when strangers tried them on before her. She was cutting the tags off the last shirt with a pair of nail clippers when the door swung open. An older man nodded at her as he dragged his own sack of laundry into the room.
At first he didn't even acknowledge her, but as the end of the wash cycle neared he started talking to her. A little bit at first, small talk about the weather and his desire to get back out on the road as soon as his laundry was finished. He made her uncomfortable, but she couldn't put her finger on why. When the washer's buzzer sounded she moved her laundry to a dryer and made a show of rifling through the free magazines until she found something tolerable. She sat down and pretended to read, but really she watched him over the top of her magazine.
He seemed to just be playing on his phone, so she tried to read the vapid housekeeping magazine in front of her. She glanced up and thought she saw him angling his phone like he was taking a picture of her.
Eugh.
Sweet relief washed over her as the buzzer for the dryer finally sounded. She jumped up, discarded the magazine onto a seat, and hurriedly packed her clothing back into the plastic sacks. Just as she was nearly finished the man approached her and cleared his throat.
Oh no,
she thought,
what does he want now?
"That guy you're with," he hesitated, "if you were my daughter I'd want you to know, he's a real weirdo." She stopped and frowned at him. "I'm just sayin'. The guys around here all know about him, we've all heard him making weird ass noises in that truck of his. He's always breakin' stuff inside his truck, I think he's got some temper problems." He fixed her with a sympathetic, knowing gaze. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she noticed the broken capillaries and other telltale signs of a longtime alcoholic.
She couldn't decide if he was really just a concerned citizen or if there was something more behind his eyes. How much did he know about Mack? Was he right? Should she be worried? Certainly Mack had exhibited some troubling mood swings since she had met him, but nothing like what this man was describing. Besides, where else was she going to go? Into
this guy's
truck? Fat chance!
He took her silence as consent and continued unloading his ideas about Mack onto her. "I've heard some rumors, I don't know, but they say he's on some weird drugs. Got some kind of psychiatric disorder or something like that. I don't know but I wouldn't be surprised to find out he hits women. No offense, I don't want to speak out of turn, but if you were my daughter..."
"Well, good news," she said, "I'm not your daughter. There's nothing wrong with Mack. It's nice of you to be concerned but-" the man grabbed her arm, and now his real intentions showed through.
"Listen," he said, "a pretty young thing like you? You can ride in my truck. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. But you better listen to me, girl, that man is bad news. You need an older man to treat you right." He fixed her with a grin more predatory than anything Mack had ever mustered up, even in his worst, most wolfish moment.
She started to pull harder to free her arm from his grasp when the laundromat door squeaked open again. Mack glowered in the doorway.
"Well, speak of the devil," Mack's voice was deeper than before, and grew deeper still as the full moon drew nearer. "How's the laundry going, honey?" He still wore his reflective sunglasses but she knew from the tone of his voice exactly what expression lay beyond them. The older man released her arm and turned to face Mack. "I was just telling this young lady about the virtues of dating older men."
"Is that so?" asked Mack.
"Oh yeah," continued the older man, "and how young men aren't always what they
seem.
" He put an odd emphasis on the last word, and Ashleigh could see Mack's muscles tense even through his hoodie. She rubbed her arm and wondered if her laundromat encounter would leave a bruise. It dawned on her as the two men began to speak to one another that they both had a Southern accent.
I wonder if they know each other.
The two men stood staring at one another for several seconds and Ashleigh made the quick decision to grab her bags and head towards Mack and the still-open door. Just as she made to grab the bags, Mack finally spoke, freezing her in place.
"That's odd, you telling anyone that people aren't what they seem. Come on, Ashleigh." He practically stomped toward the bags and snatched them all up in one meaty hand before she could do it herself. Then he offered her his other hand. She gladly took it and he practically pushed her out the door in front of him. Once she was safely across the threshold, he stuffed the bags into her hands and then turned back, slamming the laundromat door in her face, the lock sliding home before she'd even thought to try the knob.
"Mack! Mack! Just leave it!" But she stopped as she realized she could hear the men talking on the other side of the door. She heard Mack's low growl, but couldn't make out what the other man was saying. Pressing her ear to the door and trying to still her pounding heart, she could just barely hear Mack threaten the older man.
"You leave us alone, you stay far away from her, or you're going to end up like your friend Jeb."
She heard the older man reply, but couldn't make out the words.
"Fertilizer," was all Mack said in response before the laundromat door swung open and he nearly knocked her over as he exited the building. "Ashleigh," he said, "why didn't you go to the truck?" All of the bite was gone from his voice for an instant before it suddenly came back, fiercer than before. "Go, come on, listen to me dammit," and with that he all but swept her up and carried her across the parking lot. She tried to ask him what they had said to each other, but he was clearly in no mood to speak.
