Chapter 9

From the street the house was black and silent. A few low voices drifted from the porch. The first customers of the night had arrived, they stood leaning against a railing.

"What are you going to do once you get in there?" came one voice.

"Probably pay for the girl."

"What?"

"They make you pay in advance, here."

"Oh. Well I mean after that."

"After that, hmm."

The screen door flung open, Pepper moved through the door frame quickly. "Hello, gentlemen," he said as he made his way down the stairs to the street.

"They said they weren't open!" one of the voices called.

Pepper kept on towards the streets, to Bridgestone's white four-door at the curb. He pulled the unlocked handle and climbed in.

"All right," he said.

The first key did not fit the ignition. Pepper tried the next, not a match.

"God," he said examining the ring. "That's the key to my room," he said turning the keys on the ring. The next key slid clean into the ignition. He turned it, threw the car into gear and drove off from the house.

"That's more like it," he said turning a corner. There were a few other cars out, a man walking two dogs. Pepper slowed the car at a streetlight and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay." At an adjacent street another car approached the light and stopped. "Oh, God," Pepper said. "Oh dang mang." It was a patrol car, its turn signal pointing towards the house. Pepper sat rigid in the driver's seat. "Trouble time," he said wringing his hands on wheel. The light changed, Pepper drove on, the police car turned in the opposite direction. "Okay," Pepper said, watching the rear view mirror.

He pulled the car into Kramer's, a large yellow gas station with twelve covered pumps. He stopped the car and got out to pump. As the car filled Pepper leaned against the trunk with his arms folded. Inside two clerks chatted behind the counter, a group of young men and women poured out from the bed of a truck. Pepper went inside to pay.

The floors were slightly damp and shiny, the smell of bleach hung in the air. The kids had bunched around the beer coolers. A boy stood behind his girlfriend, his arms around her waist. "Where's this place?" the girl asked.

"It's Daniel's place. You know, up on South Anchor," one of the boys said.

"Oh yeah," she replied.

"How many should we get?" one of the girls asked, staring at the refrigerator.

"Six," said one boy.

"Seven," Pepper said. They turned and looked at him, standing at the end of the isle with his hands in his pockets, staring. They slowly turned back to the cooler and started to collected their cases of beer. Pepper walked to the counter.

"Pump nine, please," he said to the clerk.

"Okay, that'll be $16.45."

"All right," Pepper said, reaching into his wallet. He slid two tens across the counter. "How's that?" he said tilting his head back.

"That's fine, sir," the clerk said. "And your change."

"Thank you," Pepper said taking it. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any maps, would you?"

"Sure would," the clerk said pointing to a display rack.

"Great." There were several maps, county, local, state, regional. Pepper sighed. At the bottom of the rack was a large, spiral bound road atlas. NIFTY FIFTY ROAD ATLAS. There were a few bright pockets of text over the photograph of the Grand Canyon. NEW AND UPDATED ROADS AND HIGHWAYS. PLUS MEXICO AND CANANDA*

The kids we hauling the cases to the register, eight in all. They began to place them on the counter.

"You got ID?" asked the clerk.

"Sure do," said one of the girls, holding out her card.

"Okay," he said and began ringing up the cases.

"Where's the party at?" Pepper asked. One of the boys turned to him.

"Ah, just at a friend's place."

"Oh. He sounds cool."

"Yeah, Gary. He's all right."

"All Right Gary. That's what I'd call him. 'Hey man, what do you think?' 'Oh, I don't know.' 'Maybe we should ask All Right Gary, Hey, Gary what do you think, man?' 'I think that'd be all right.' That's what I'd say," Pepper said.

"Okay that's twenty six dollars," the clerk said. One of girls paid. "Thank you." The kids began to file out past Pepper.

"All right you guys have a good one," he called. Not one turned their head.

"This, too, please," Pepper said placing the atlas on the counter.

The car sailed along the freeway, a few other set of headlights passed by, moved on up ahead. Pepper was focused, his hands tight on the wheel his eyes straight ahead, the car pointed west. He started drumming his fingers on the wheel, then flipped on the radio.

I gotta gal called Betty Jo,
She's all right if you want to know,
But some nights she's mighty mean,
Dunk my wallet in kerosene.

He sang along, nodding his head, whistled the choruses to the end of the song.

"Well up next on our Midnight Melody set we've got one from George Brown-"

"Pepper"

"-and the Kodachromes, new music by Geraldine Winslow and of course our local weather."

Pepper glanced at the back seat.

"Pepper." He turned the radio off and listened, looked again over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pepper."

Startled, he took his foot off of the accelerator. A truck wailed his horn behind him.

"What and the hell?" he said.

A figure leaned up in the back seat.

"Who the hell is back in there?" he said.

"It's me," the voice came low and raspy. "It's Dee."

"What?"

"It's Dee."

"I heard you, I heard. What and the hell are you doing in there?"

"Sleepin'."

"In the car?"

"I just wanted to take a nap before work."

"For shit's sake, lady."

"What?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just," Pepper blinked hard. "I'm just driving, that's all."

"On 44?" Dee turned her head to read a sign for an exit. "West on 44, just taking a drive? We're an hour from the house!"

"So what?"

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going," Pepper began wringing his hands on the wheel. "Listen," he said. "I'm in a little trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Police trouble."

"What?"

"Yeah, the police want to talk to me."

"Talk to you? About what."

"I don't know."

"Pepper."

"A car that came in the shop."

"Why you running from that?"

"Well it got in a pretty bad accident and they want to see if I know anything."

"Okay."

"And if I had anything to do with it, I guess."

"Did you?"

"Maybe."

"What happened?"

"Remember that accident a couple days ago?"

"That big one on eight?"

"Yeah. The driver, the car that flipped into the other lane. That's the one."

"Oh, God."

"So now I'm getting out of town."

"Who's car is this?"

"You got in it!"

"You took his car?"

"I'm borrowing it."

"Pepper he'll give the police the license plate number. They've got to have come by the house by now."

"Well they ain't getting me. Not old Pepepr Gray."

"You need to drop me off."

"What?"

"You need to take the next exit and let me out of the car someplace that's got a phone."

"Who are you going to call?"

"I don't know yet, you need to get me to a gas station or something and get a taxi so I can get back to the house."

"Why don't you just stay, ride with me."

"No."

"It'd be like Bonnie and Clyde, driving away from the law. Murdering all the while."

"No."

"But without the murdering."

"No, Pepper, turn here, take this exit, get me home."

"Fine," he said, taking the next ramp.

The road following the exit was dark and sparse. A few filling stations on either side of the street, dark and closed.

"Maybe just a phone," Dee said. "Just call a taxi."

"You got any money?"

"No," she said quickly. "I won't need it."

"You won't need any?"

"I know a couple of tricks, Pepper."

"I guess you must," he said.

"Pull in here," Dee said. "There's a pay phone right there." Pepper turned the car into a closed diner and stopped by the phone standing in the parking lot.

"I lied about the money. Give me a quarter."

"All right," Pepper said reaching into his pocket. "One quarter," he held it out to her from the window.

Pepper flicked the dome light and opened the atlas to the United States map. He bisected the country with his finger, tracing a line from right to left, tapping at the coast.

"Taxi will be here in a few," Dee said approaching.

"Yeah? You gonna be all right?"

"You could wait for him to show up."

"Sure."

"So where are you heading, now, Pepper?"

"Can't say."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I don't know."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But one thing's definite. I'm gonna drive on and drive and drive until I can't stay awake anymore."

"Then what?"

"Get a hotel room for the night, or sleep in the car."

"Uh huh."

"Wake up and do it again."

"Until what?"

"Until I'm far away."

"Ever thing you'd be doing this?"

"Dropping you off in Evanston?"

"No. No, I mean driving off, running from the police. For questioning. They're going to be suspicious."

"You think I'm guilty?"

"I don't know."

"Well I am."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Something happened."

"Well if I tell you that's one more person involved."

"You already dragged me out here."

"And now you're going back. And all you know is that I'm driving."

"And that you stole Bridgestone's car."

"I'm borrowing it. He gave me the keys himself."

"But you ain't bringing it back."

"Well,"

"Are you?"

"Someday."

A car pulled into the lot, a red JUDSON CAB. The driver brought the car up to Pepper's and rolled his window down. His face was fat and tan, covered with a heavy stubble. He was a thoroughbred fry cook. "You call for a cab?" he called.

"Yes," Pepper yelled back.

"Okay," the man said back.

"Pepper," Dee said. "Take care of yourself."

"Sure thing, Dee. And be sure to skimp on the details. I don't know so you don't know."

"I don't know," she said.

"That's a girl," Pepper said, and gave a wave.

Dee climbed into the back of the car, said something the driver and the car pulled back onto the street.

Back on the quiet highway Pepper rode in silent concentration. He drove a steady 65MPH in the center lane, passing exit at after exit, keeping west on the freeway. Pepper didn't share any of his attention for the road with the billboards he passed, advertisements for plump hot dogs with parallel squirts of mustard and ketchup, a photograph of a sleeping woman covered in downy white bedding, a winking lady with an invitation to an exclusive club. Pepper saw the blacktop, painted lines and hanging headlights.