All In (2 page)

Scratch
and Burn.

Greedy
for More.

Down
and Dirty.

She would have to keep her addiction for erotica
fiction a secret from Mick. She’d never hear the end of it.
I need a paper bag so I can make book
covers.

It was Cara’s only escape—the written word. They
were the only experiences she’d ever had, with the exception of one she fought
almost daily to forget. Hopefully, leaving The Hollow would cure that.

****

The sky darkened, bleeding out in smoky hues of
purple and smoggy oranges. Mick purchased their two tickets. He hadn’t spoken
to Cara since their meeting in the alley. He’d seen her leave and return from
work today, completing the last day of what he knew was a tedious routine.

The bus was due in twenty minutes. He folded the
tickets and buried them deep in his pocket.

Mick wandered through the bus station. Slumped bodies
with weary faces sat on benches that lined the walls. He lowered his face into
the fountain, sipping the pungent, chlorinated water for, hopefully, the last
time.

He’d told Cara to meet him near the side of the building.
He patted his pack, feeling the small rations of food that he’d tucked in
there. Through the course of his last day at the diner, he’d lifted several edibles.
Mick needed to watch their money. He had to make it last until they found their
new home.
Home
.
That word settled in his gut like warm soup. It felt comforting and calm. It
was a place Mick longed to be, with Cara beside him.

That was another angle to their departure. How would
she feel once he confessed his lifelong crush? Crush? No. Cara was no
infatuation.

She
could meet somebody new once we’re away from here!

Mick shook his head, shoving away his panicked thoughts.
His heart and body ached, swelling to the bursting point. It was a vision that
he’d kept contained for this long. The Hollow wasn’t where he wanted to claim
Cara’s heart and soul, among all the other lustful things that stalked him
every hour of every day.

Mick wiped his mouth and slung his pack over his
shoulder, sauntering toward the exit door, willing his body to calm. The mere notion
of possessing Cara and her heart always provoked that internal stirring.

The wind had died, but the biting chill of winter
still sharpened the air, slicing through him like an iced-over blade. Mick
leaned against the wall, thrilled with the thought that he’d spent his last
Christmas here. He was fleeing—
they
were fleeing, and if Mick had his way, they’d never have to see this grimy,
seedy city again.

An engine roared to life, snapping him from his
reverie.

The bus slowly pulled around the station. Mick’s
pulse fluttered in his chest.
Where is
she?

“Hey.”

Mick’s body spun, meeting her cloudy breaths.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “Thought you’d stood me up,” he
said. Relief washed over him, feeling like a hot sun emerging from behind a
cloud.

“No,” Cara said, pulling additional air into her
lungs. “I wanted to wait until my mom left.”

“Okay … good.” Mick felt his lips press together,
squeezing the blood out of them. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”
Cara
rolled her shoulders, as if to shrug off the stress. Her faint smile weighed on
him, her apprehension as clear as enlarged print. Her dark-brown eyes darted
away, her brow wrinkled. Mick knew she was nervous, not wanting to show that
fearful side. Once they got on the bus, he would do his best to distract her.

Mick snuck a brief sideward glance, quickly combing
over her trim body that was bundled in a heavy coat. Cara was beautiful. She
was the epitome of all that Mick thought natural beauty stood for.

Her blonde hair was the real deal. Her eyes were a
sweet brown that Mick longed to stare into. He wanted to see himself in them.
To see his reflection filling her, wanting to learn all that was inside. His
gaze traveled down the artful line of her jaw, landing on her lips.

The whine of the bus’s Jake-brake rang in Mick’s
ears, pulling up alongside the curb. Cara quickly turned, her ponytail swinging
behind her head.

“Let’s do it.” He placed his hand on her arm,
guiding her in front of him as a line began to form.

Chapter
Three

They settled in as the bus cruised down the exit
ramp. The lights overhead dimmed as the other passengers reclined their seats
back, situating themselves for the trip.

Cara didn’t even know where the hell they were
going. Was she sticking her head in the sand? Maybe the less she knew, the
better, willing herself to relax. She was dying to read, but was afraid to
bring out her book. Cara was itching to get back into
Down and Dirty
. Erin and Tim were sitting idle in her mind, almost
to the point of getting naked, and down and dirty. Cara settled for a magazine
that was tucked into the pocket of the seat in front of her.

Resting the tattered magazine in her lap, Cara gazed
out the window, leaning her head against the cool glass. Smokestacks pumped an
ashy gray smoke up into the air, shrouding the dreary skyline of the city as it
receded behind her.
Goodbye, Pittsburgh.

When would her mother notice she was gone? Cara
tried to envision Val and Lacy tomorrow morning, standing at the time clock
waiting for her, their faces lined with worry. She wore the mask in front of
them today, though it’d been hard. Cara felt remorseful, as if she’d lied to them,
but there’d been no choice.

What they were doing now, Mick had spoken of for so
long. She’d never put his secret mission at risk, a mission they now shared. A
ribbon of heat wrapped around her as Cara contemplated all the reasons he’d
wanted to take her with him. There had to be more to it. He
’d
made her part of his plan for the future, Cara was just unsure of what her role
would
be once they reached their destination.

Cara battled the anxiety that came with change. She
felt safe with Mick, relieved, so why couldn’t she just relax and embrace their
adventure? They’d been through so much together, all the pains and inadequacies
of growing up.

His warm breaths blew into her hair, his words
quiet. “Here, you hungry?”

Cara looked into his eyes, their faces nose to nose.
Mick smiled faintly. Thin lines crinkled around his eyes, pulling her gaze down
to his lips. Cara shifted in her seat. Mick passed her an apple and what
appeared to be a flattened cruller wrapped in Saran wrap.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. She felt warm, grabbing
the collar of her coat and lowering the zipper.

“I’d take that off. You don’t want to get overheated,”
Mick told her.

He assisted her with the sleeve. Mick draped the
coat across his lap, and they ate in silence. Thoughts and questions bounced
around in her head. Mick handed her a small bottle of water. Cara washed down
the dry crumbs and faced him.

“So … where are we going?” she whispered, not
wanting anyone to overhear and think she was crazy.

Mick’s dry laughter filled the pause between them in
the small space of their seats.

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said
sarcastically.

“Well… I…”

He patted her knee. As fast as his hand landed, it
was gone, back in his lap.

“Kidding, Muffin,” he smiled.
“Just
kidding.”

She hadn’t heard that nickname in a while. Mick had
always called her Muffin. When they were younger, it angered her, but when Cara
accepted that he would never let it go, she grew to like it. He’d used it less
and less as the years passed. Tonight, with all the tension of their departure
mounting, Cara now found it comforting.

“This bus will take us into Stroudsburg. After that,
we’ll see,” Mick told her, shrugging. “No worries.” He shifted in his seat, reclining
back for the ride.

Stroudsburg would be about five hours into the trip.
Then what?
Cara pressed the button on
the armrest. Her seat eased back. Cara turned, gazing up at the sharp lines of
Mick’s jaw.

“Then what?” she asked, vocalizing her thoughts. Mick
turned, staring at her.

“We’ll see,” he repeated. Mick closed his eyes. Maybe
he was making this up as they went along, a fake-it-till-you-make-it sort of
thing.

Cara slept, feeling the vibrations of the bus’s
engine beneath her feet. Night had fully fallen, blanketing the windows, the
bus dark. Cara opened her eyes briefly, seeing the shadows of the other
passengers as they slept, read, or worked on their electronic devices. She
licked her lips, feeling a pasty thirst coat her mouth before dozing off again.
A mixture of odors had ripened in the stuffy air. Stale perfume and the
personal fragrances of others filled the bus.

****

Mick’s gentle nudge had her sitting up abruptly.
Cara blinked the grogginess out of her eyes, her mouth parched for liquid.

“We’re bailing at the next stop. Make sure your
stuff is together,” he told her. Mick stood, stretching as he reached up into
the overhead compartment. He retrieved their packs and returned to his seat,
setting them on the floor between his feet.

The hum of the bus’s engine downshifted as they
slipped off the freeway and rounded the exit ramp. Cara put on her coat. She
was tired and thirsty, but would refrain from complaining. Progress was
painful, so she’d often been told.
No
pain, no gain.

The bus pulled up in front of the station. Large
lights from outside lit up the interior. Drowsy passengers mumbled and groaned
as they gathered their belongings.

A few straggling passengers loitered in front of the
terminal. Cara twisted in her seat, trying to read the clock in the back of the
bus above the bathroom door. It was almost 1 a.m.

When the bus came to a stop, Mick rose out of his
seat, his face lined with seriousness.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yup, ready.” Cara stood, bracing herself between
the seats. The engine cut off as people began to crowd the aisle. She gazed out
the windows of the bus. Travelers lugged their carry-ons as they made their way
inside the station, their expressions weary. An injected dose of reality raced
through her, settling in her empty stomach. Things didn’t appear to look much
better here.

Chapter
Four

The terminal was deserted inside. Janitors worked at
opposite ends mopping the floors. Cara told him she needed the ladies room. After
she slipped through the door, Mick went to the men’s room.

He splashed cool water on his face and then shook
his head like a drenched dog. He was beat, but needed to get with the program. Finding
a motel would be a waste. The night was already half
over,
assuming check-out time would be by 10 or 11 A.M.

He ran his hands over his head. A dull ache began to
throb at his temples, and he shook off the dread that he felt closing in around
him like an annoying prowler. Mick grabbed a few paper towels out of the
dispenser, shoved them into his pack, and reached for the door.

Cara stood near the vending machines, her pack slung
over her shoulder. Her eyes were heavy, her ponytail rumpled. They’d have to
sack out here until sun-up. It was the only option. The envelope he’d tucked
all his money into was taped around his thigh. The adhesive burned, pulling on
his body hair. He glanced at the vending machine and dug in his pocket for a
few stray bills.

“Want a snack? Water or something?” he asked her.

“Yes, water … please,” Cara said through a stifled
yawn.

Mick fed two dollars into the machine and made his
selection. They wandered through the terminal and claimed a bench near a trash
can.

They drank in silence, sharing a package of peanut
butter crackers. Mick stared down the long expanse of the building, watching as
one of the cleaning crew pulled his cart into the closet.

The older gentleman removed his smock, hanging it up
on a hook, and then closed the door. The bus they’d taken had reloaded and
slowly pulling away from the curb.

We
need to crash for a while.

“Come on.” He tugged on Cara’s coat sleeve. She
glanced up at him, popping the last cracker into her mouth, and stood.

“Where to?”
She
canted her head at him.

“I’ll show you.” Mick tipped his head in the
direction of the janitorial closet.

They walked down the length of the terminal, the
tiled floor gleaming. Mick scanned the terminal one last time and was relieved
when he turned the knob and the door opened. He took Cara by the arm and
steered her inside, quickly closing the door behind them.

Darkness fell between them. The sharp scents of
bleach and ammonia burned his nose. Cara’s breaths echoed through the confined
space.