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Abigail
What in god’s name was that all about? I really need to know what’s crawled up Vic’s ass. All I did was talk to Clayton. Vic acts as if we’re dating or some shit. When in all reality, the jackass has barely talked to me. UGH! I could almost go back and beat his ass for ruining my night. Instead, I’m walking down the fucking road. I have a good five miles in front of me with all this fucking farm land.
Headlights have passed me going both ways, I don’t pay the traffic a bit of attention. Well, not till I hear one slowing down and I know for sure it ain’t Vic because his tow truck is too loud.
"Abigail, where do you think you're walking to at eleven thirty on a Saturday night?"
I notice the voice right off the bat. I don’t even need to see—I know it's Clayton. "I'm walking to the shop."
I see he's driving a red Ford Bronco as it pulls up alongside me. "It's like five miles from here. Let me at least give ya a lift."
"Thanks, but really, I'm good. I walked before I had my license." I adjust my bag and swap hands for my guitar.
He sighs audibly. “My momma raised a good boy and leavin' ya on the side of the road ain't right. Besides, they were just talkin’ rain on the radio.
"That’s good your momma raised ya right. However, I'm really okay.”
He slows the Ford to a crawl as a crackle of lightning flickers in the distance, followed by a boom of thunder. A carload of kids goes whipping by hooting and hollering.
"Abigail," he whispers softly. "You're far from okay... You're pissed, and alone. Please, just get in the truck cause I ain't leavin' ya out here."
Shaking my head, I sigh, "Clayton, when I'm pissed, being alone is the best thing for me and everyone around me. You've said it, I scare you. There's a reason for that."
"I'll be quiet as a church mouse. You won't even know I'm here, but at least you won't have blisters on those little toes of yours." Just as he laughs, the skies opened up and the downpour starts.
Looking toward the sky I shake my head. "Seriously?! Is it let's see how much Abigail can take before she breaks day?"
The truck squeals into park, and Clayton is beside me, his hand on my guitar. "Rain...and wood don't mix."
"Fine, but I'm still walking." I hand Clayton my guitar.
He snatches the guitar and my fiddle, putting them in the back of the Ford and I keep walking. Until I hear him speak again, "Okay, but if I get kicked in the balls, I'm kicking your ass...”
I stop, my hand on my hip, staring at him. "That was Adam...Remember you forced our hands." Next thing I know Clayton's got me curled up in his arms and is plopping my ass down in the passenger seat!
"What the hell?! What did I tell you about touching me without permission?!"
He starts the truck. "I got permission...From Adam."
"My body, not fucking Adam's.”
"Your friends love you Abi, they made an executive decision. You're not walking and getting sick and fucking up your voice. Now shush."
"Fuck You, all of you. Guys are fucking jerks! I would have been fine.”
"We may well be, but we love you just the same. Now, I need to swing by my place really quick, then I'll take you wherever you want to go, but Adam says you should bunk at his place with us tonight, just so you know."
"Yeah, well, Adam is a bigger chick than I am and wants to know the goods."
He chuckles. "Can't argue with that."
With a roll of my eyes, I cross my arms and stare out the window. I sit quietly, still fuming but quietly, in Clayton's Bronco. I can't help but sit up a little straighter when my neighborhood comes into focus. What the hell? Clayton pulls into what I'm assuming is his driveway. I look down the road just a tad, four trailers to be exact, at the one I'm supposed to live in.
“What are we doing here?”
“Um, I need to grab some fresh clothes and like I said, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I live here.” He looks at me confused.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I rub my hand down my face.
“Is there a problem?” Wincing he reachs into the back seat. When he rights himself, he hands me a black and gold Letterman’s Jacket “Here, so you don’t get any wetter.”
“I can wait here for you, or I can run and grab some clothes. I’m not too far from here.”
“There’s nobody home. Just come inside and warm up. Just come on, please? This neighborhood sucks.”
“No shit. It’s sucked for as long as I can remember.” I look out the back window again, seeing all the lights are on at the trailer. Looking back to Clayton, I put on the jacket. “Okay, but I’ll wait for you at the door.”
He throws the truck into park. “Okay, right this way.”
Getting out of the truck, I run to the porch. I don’t want to get his jacket wetter than it already is.
