Y Not
Tequila sloshed in the bottle dangling from Nick Barton's sunburned right hand, but he tried not to think about the amber liquid inside. Instead he focused ahead, on the thin line where the pothole-riddled blacktop merged with the barren New Mexico horizon. One foot in front of the other, Nick trudged on. The shimmering heat waves reminded him of the strippers in Vegas. Curvy, arousing to watch, yet impossible to grab a hold of.
Sweat blurred his vision and his dry throat constricted from the lack of moisture. The slosh of the bottle seduced him, yet he resisted the urge to take a swig. Gravel crunched beneath his scarred eel-skin boots with each labored step.
All Nick had left were the clothes on his back, the bottle of Cuervo, and the dice in his pocket. If he finished off the booze he would cut his assets by a third, and Nick had already lost enough.
The afternoon sun beat down on his raw, blistered neck, and Nick missed his Bangora more than everything else. But the straw cowboy hat had disappeared along with the semi's taillights and dwelling on that miserable fact wasn't gonna bring a drop of relief. He trudged on.
Towns out here were too damn far apart. How many hours had slipped by since the last car motored past his outstretched thumb? Nick looked at his wrist and then remembered he'd pawned his timepiece two days ago.
If only that trucker hadn't caught him switching dice. The two sets looked identical. Nick still couldn't figure out how he'd screwed up, but he should've seen this string of bad luck coming. New Mexico liked to call itself The Land of Enchantment, but for him it had become the land of entrapment. He needed to get his ass back to Texas where he belonged. That Mexican gal from Ruidoso had brought all of this agony on. Of course, women had been at the heart of all his troubles in life.
That redhead in Abilene. Hell, she looked eighteen. And that Cajun gal in Bossier. Those three swamp monster brothers of hers were still the meanest bastards he'd ever scrapped with. Neither of those vixens possessed the body or moves beneath the sheets that Carlotta wielded. Nick smiled as he walked. The mere memory of her silky black patch was enough to forget the heat and misery. Too bad her husband happened to come home early.
Nick had abandoned his duffel bag when he crawled out of Carlotta's window. Hell, he'd barely managed to grab the clothes crumpled at the foot of her bed.
Ruidoso Downs treated him even worse. The ponies fucked him as well, but in an entirely different way than Carlotta.
In order to get another stake, Nick left his watch at a pawnshop. Most of that cash was still safely stashed in his boot, but Lady Luck needed to get off her dead ass and carry her own weight before he lost those greenbacks as well. Not that there were many opportunities to gamble out here amongst the tumbleweeds, lizards, and rattlesnakes.
Nick looked over his shoulder. He cracked his knuckles and squinted into the setting sun. A dark shape materialized on his back trail. Waiting to make sure the car didn't have red and blue lights on the roof, he stuck his thumb in the air.
The cherry-red Camaro's Nevada plates read Y NOT. His sentiments exactly. The vintage hotrod's chrome bumper stopped inches from his road-weary legs. A green-eyed beauty leaned out the window. "Where ya headed?"
"Texas." He gave her his best cock-eyed grin.
Her painted red lips parted. Her tongue danced across her teeth. "It's your lucky day." She reached across the seat and pushed the passenger door open.
A few miles down the road, she tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear and pointed to the tequila. "Is that for show or are we gonna have a drink?"
He knew there was a reason he'd been saving the last of the bottle. Twisting off the cap, he passed the José Cuervo.
Nick admired the smooth curve of her neck as she tilted her head back and drank. This woman posed a threat. She could take her tequila straight and look good doing it. A rare and dangerous combination.
"Texas is a big state," she said. "Headed anywhere particular?"
"Nope. Anywhere in the Lone Star State beats this godforsaken place." He reached for a drink, but she held onto the neck of the bottle. Her thumb caressed the now lipstick-stained opening.
"How far you going?" He rubbed his aching calves.
She smiled and licked her upper lip. "Till they catch me or I get tired of running." Nick checked the side mirror. Miles of barren highway stretched behind them. "Who is they?" She swigged another mouthful and shrugged.
The last thing he needed was to get involved with a fugitive. A smarter man would get out now, but his swollen feet throbbed inside the boots. He'd do just about anything to avoid more walking. "You got a name?" he asked.
"Everybody has a name. Doesn't mean they're proud of it." She handed the booze back to him. He finished off the last half swallow and pulled the dice from the hip pocket of his faded jeans. "You gamble?"
"I picked you up." She grabbed the bones and rolled them across the dashboard.
"Seven. You're a winner."
Her emerald eyes sized him up and down before she winked. "Pay up."
He tried not to smile. Maybe his luck had just shifted, now that he had little left to lose. "I have nothing to offer, but myself or the clothes on my back." He plucked at the front of his shirt.
She chewed the corner of her lip. "Never heard of strip craps, but I'll try anything once."
Nick let her toss the loaded dice two more times. He sacrificed both boots, and then made the switch. Raising his brows, he pulled off his socks when she hit back-to-back elevens on successive rolls. Making sure to keep the money clip out of sight he stuffed the loot into the toe of his left boot.
Down to his boxers, Nick's heart pounded his chest. This mystery woman was hot in more ways than one. He had yet to touch the bones. She just kept grinning that crooked smile and rolling winners on the out. Sweat beaded on Nick's dusty brow. Maybe he had gotten the dice mixed up, but now that he was down to his underwear making the switch again was chancy at best.
"You've about busted me out."
"I see that." She winked and shot an appraising look at his boxers. "Worried?"
Nick rubbed his whiskered jaw line. On one hand, he could think of worse things than being naked in front of a beautiful woman, but on the other, his gambling instincts told him to be careful. "All streaks come to an end."
"You're right about that." She pulled over to the side of the road. "How about you drive for a while? Maybe that'll turn your fortunes around."
He shrugged. "Why not? My luck sure as hell can't get any worse."
Nick pushed open the door and stepped outside. The hot and rough pavement scraped at his tender bare feet. He limped around to the back of the car, grateful the sun had finally begun to set. The good feeling ended when gravel hit his bare shins and the Camaro took off with a squeal, leaving behind a puff of smoke. "Kiss my ass."
His shoulders slumped in defeat.
Fifty yards down the road the car stopped. He grinned in relief and took one ginger step on the jagged gravel. For half a second there he thought she was going to take off on him. When he got within ten yards of the car, she tossed the empty Tequila bottle out and punched the gas.
The Y NOT faded into the distance.
-END-
