Black and Orange Read Online Free Page B

sometimes.” The man shifted at the blaring reality of the statement and quickly returned to the subject of the auto shop. “So they work four-tens every other week to fit the trucking schedule better. It’s their rules. I can’t do nothin ’ about that. They open early tomorrow, around sixish —”
    Martin smiled. “Come on. It’s only one tire. Our roadside is covered, right? We’re good. If someone rolls one out, I’ll put it on all by myself.”
    The man shrugged. “Not happenin ’ guy. It’s the shits.”
    Martin sighed through his teeth, and with two fingers scratched his head. He hoped if he stared at the guy long enough it would change something.
    Didn’t.
    “Thanks for your help,” he said.
    “Hey, no problem. Stay outta the sun.”
    Martin walked back to the van, opened the door, and draped his body over the seat. After a manic moment he rolled his eyes back. “For fuck sake.”
    “What’s going on with the tire?” asked Teresa.
    “Oh that.” He leaned back. “Well, I guess we’re going to camp out here until tomorrow.”
    “We’re already running behind. Let’s just try filling the spare. It’s a slow leak.”
    “And maybe be stranded where nobody lives at all? We don’t have any money left for even a truck stop sandwich. If you hadn’t noticed, the Messenger hasn’t left anything yet.”
    “Maybe he won’t. Maybe he found new people to be his Nomads.”
    “That’s rich. Don’t fool yourself. Nobody would waste such able-bodied slaves. We’ll be used up, like batteries.”
    “Now you’re seeing.”
    Martin gave Teresa a once over. In the last few months it was clear she’d given up on herself, just as he had. She never wanted to try his herbal remedies, never attempted to do the healing yoga routines and hadn’t quit smoking cloves above all else. He’d begun to gradually turn the concern-dial down to zero. She just didn’t understand. To her it was nonsense; a bunch of rainforest sticks and leaves wouldn’t take away the tumor in her lung. Why quit smoking then? She would succumb with or without his intervention. And she was overdue. Tony Nguyen probably could have attested to that, had he not been devoured last year.
    Martin scrubbed his face.
    “Stop being that way,” she said.
    “Which way?”
    “Disparaged. I don’t want to deal with the disparaging Martin today. Not so close to the 31 st . Okay?”
    “Whatever you say darling.”
    “I do have some good news.”
    “Oh please, tell me, quick.”
    She held up a deformed twenty dollar bill. “Found this at the bottom of my duffel. In my humble opinion, it’s not too early for a drink. That is, if you let me drink and don’t give me any shit. We can try and see if that bar’s open. This should be enough money for a beer, right?”
    “For domestic, I’d say its plenty.”
    Martin remembered saying that before. Déjà vu . But there was something oddly misplaced in the feeling, different than experiencing a recurring sound or setting. The sensation frightened him but he couldn’t say why, not offhand. It did seem though that this déjà vu belonged to someone else.

FIVE
     
    Jarrie’s Place had only one customer. Martin could sense Teresa’s disapproval and he made it his goal to head straight for the bar, his eyes never veering. But he had seen. A young woman in a low cut tangerine dress sat alone near the video golf game that all sporting alcoholics seemed to thrive on. The dress was expensive and overflowing with this woman’s endowments, and a shrill warning inside suggested that Martin ignore everything about her.
    He hadn’t addressed the honey blonde. So far so good. He brought his elbows up on the scuffed bar and hoped for the best. He and Teresa weren’t married or anything. And could a common law marriage even exist on the road? He was his own person; he wasn’t bound, but knew the real answer. A sign over the bar elaborated: You can ask for the man in charge. Or you can ask the woman who