Highways & Hostages (16 page)

“Yeah, sure.” Finn took his receipt and glanced into the depths of his wallet. He was running seriously low on funds; they might be staying the night in another roach motel. Finn went to the car, got into the passenger side of the Beetle, and eased the door closed.

“We’re still heading east on I-10, right?” Stella asked.

“Yep,” Finn answered. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

Stella glanced at him. “Is everything okay? You seem a little…weird this morning.”

“Everything’s fine. Just drive.” Finn folded his arm on the lip of the window and cradled his head. When he closed his eyes, the world tilted and spun. Nope, no napping. He sighed and stared out the window.

He felt Stella’s eyes bore into him for a moment longer. Without another word, she pulled the car out of the parking lot and stepped on the gas.

Four hours later, Finn suggested they pull off the highway to find something to eat. The car ride had been unusually quiet. Instead of her usual bright, perky self, Stella seemed withdrawn, almost brooding. It probably had something to do with her fiancé.

“Does IHOP work for you?” He pointed at the ramshackle chain restaurant sitting back from the highway.

Stella paused. “It’s lunchtime.”

“IHOP does lunch. Besides, you can eat pancakes any time of day. Breakfast is basically a food group,” Finn said.

“Your logic never ceases to amaze me,” Stella replied as she put on her signal.

After Finn and Stella were seated and had placed their orders, they waited in silence. Finn’s thoughts kept bouncing between what had almost happened the night before, and wondering what would happen when they got back to Las Vegas. The silence grated on him until he couldn’t take it any longer.

“So, what did Derek have to say?” he asked nonchalantly.

Stella twirled a piece of hair around her finger and looked down at the table. “He didn’t answer.”

“Oh.” Finn wondered if she was worried about that, or something else.

“But his mother left six messages. I forgot we made an appointment with some super expensive florist that has a two-year waitlist or something. She may never speak to me again…which might not be such a bad thing.”

“I wouldn’t know about that—the florist thing, I mean. Is his mom really
that
bad?”

“She’s worse.” Stella fiddled with the saltshaker. “She acts like it’s
her
wedding. But I guess since she’s
helping
to pay for it and it’s mostly
her
friends coming, it basically is hers.” Stella put the shaker down and twisted her engagement ring. “I just wanted to go to a drive-thru chapel with an Elvis impersonator, but Derek flat-out refused. He said he’s always wanted a traditional wedding, but I think he just internalizes whatever his mom wants. What guy actually wants some big, fancy, circus of a wedding?”

Finn had never thought about it before so he didn’t have an answer. He leaned forward and stared intently into Stella’s eyes. “And you’re sure you want to marry a guy who lets his mother treat him like a puppet? It sounds like she can’t wait to do the same to you.”

Stella’s cheeks reddened. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was just bothering me.”

The only way Finn could think to respond was to push her hair away from her face or squeeze her shoulder, but he kept his hands to himself. The table lapsed into silence again.

He drummed his fingers on the table. Stella continued to twist her engagement ring around her finger. Finn was unnerved to see her so subdued. Couldn’t she see the woman’s withering effect on her? Who would choose to live like that? He didn’t like the version of Stella currently sitting before him. Finn wanted the snappy, easy-going woman who made him think.

“Do you—” Finn started.

“Last night—” Stella began.

Both laughed nervously. Finn gestured for Stella to go ahead.

“Last night was fun—the karaoke, I mean,” she said. “It was a breath of fresh air.”

Finn nodded. “It was definitely…something else.”

Stella looked at him so intensely he had to glance away. He felt like her eyes had some special superpower that could see through his cool demeanor and tell her what he was really thinking. Thank God that sight hadn’t been trained on him last night, or even a few moments before.

“You should get out more,” she said.

“I could say the same for you.” A piece of their conversation at the bar the night before floated through Finn’s brain. He grabbed at it. “What are you passionate about?”

He’d taken her by surprise. She blinked, her lips slightly parted as she considered the question. Finn stared at those lips—plump and the color of a not-quite-ripe strawberry. He shook his head.
Get it together, man.

Stella chuckled nervously. “Where did that come from?”

“Last night, you admitted that being a waitress wasn’t your dream job, and that you were scared because you didn’t know what you wanted.”

Stella bit her bottom lip and Finn forced himself to look away. “Oh, that. That was just drunk rambling.”

“I don’t think so. What do you like to do in your free time? What are your hobbies? What makes your heart beat faster?”

Stella chuckled nervously. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

Finn waited. He wasn’t letting her off the hook that easy.

Stella sighed. “Well, I like to watch reality TV. And I like to cook. I experiment with different recipes. I traveled a lot while I was growing up, and had the opportunity to taste a lot of different foods from different cultures. I try to recreate them.” Stella’s eyes glowed. She perked up. “Not everything comes out great, but the journey’s part of the fun. When I
do
get it right, it’s that much more amazing.”

Finn shifted in his seat. “Have you ever thought about trying to make a career as a chef? Or writing a cookbook?”

“No, not really. I mean, I kind of toyed with the idea when I was a kid.”

“So, what stopped you?”

They paused their conversation and smiled awkwardly as the waiter brought their food, placed it in front of them, and left.

Stella pushed the eggs around on her plate. “I don’t know…I remember telling my dad about it, and he said being a chef wasn’t a real job. So that idea went out the window.”

Finn could tell she was back in that moment, and it wasn’t a happy one. “Hey!” He snapped his fingers like a hypnotist waking a client from a deep sleep. Stella jumped and blinked rapidly. “He’s not here now, and you’re a grown-ass woman. There’s nothing stopping you. It’s something to think about.”

Stella nodded and stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth. Clearly the topic was closed for discussion.

“What about you?” she asked after a pause. “What did you always want to do?”

“Uh…” Finn was thrown for a loop. He hadn’t really thought about it. With his reputation as a troublemaker, people tended not to ask him questions, preferring instead to make assumptions and demands. “I don’t really know.”

Stella folded her arms. “What do you like to do? Like, in your free time?”

Finn snorted. “What free time? My life practically revolves around my job.”

Stella raised an eyebrow. “Humor me. I humored you.”

“Uh, I guess I like to go to art museums…and I like to work on my car. Maybe building miniatures?”

“I didn’t picture you for the cultured, hobbyist type. What would you be doing if you weren’t, you know, doing illegal stuff?”

“Shh!” Finn glanced around the restaurant. “Honestly, I’d probably be in jail. That’s the direction I was headed before I met Julian.”

“That’s a shame,” Stella said matter-of-factly. “You’re not the same person you were then—you should really reevaluate what you want to do with your life.”

“And who says I don’t want to do what I’m doing right now?” Finn asked, defensive.

“You don’t seem particularly happy most of the time. Maybe a new job could change that.” Stella sipped her orange juice and smirked. “It’s something to think about.”

As they finished their meal, Stella’s question gnawed at him. What
would
he love to do? He did enjoy his current job, but it was only because he was able to handle beautifully crafted pieces of art. He could appreciate the handiwork that went into manufacturing a piece, and what it taught him about a culture. If someone told him back when he was a teenager that he’d be into fine art and artifacts, he would have laughed in their face.

After they paid the bill, Stella and Finn went back to the car, Stella taking her place behind the wheel. She turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over but nothing happened. She tried it again with the same result.

“Don’t worry, this happens all the time. It usually gets going the sixth or seventh time.”

But it didn’t get going the sixth time. Or the seventh. Or the tenth.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Stella pleaded with the car, furiously shaking the steering wheel.

“I don’t think that’s going to help. I’m pretty sure this car is dead. D-E-A-D. Dead.”

“No, no, no,” Stella cried, beating the wheel with each word. She rested her head in the center of it, causing the horn to blare continuously. “I hate everyone,” she moaned.

“Relax, we’ll figure something out,” Finn said.

Stella sat up and gave Finn a crazed look. “Finn, this car is my only form of transportation!”

“It needs to be towed somewhere.”

“Well, obviously. Ugh, this royally sucks!” Stella slammed her head onto the steering wheel again.

Finn fidgeted on one of the hard plastic seats in the small waiting area at Big Ty’s Tow & Go while Stella talked to a mechanic. The stale air made Finn wonder how often they opened a door or window. He rang Billy but got no answer. He tried Alex, but again, no answer.

“Fuck.” Finn slammed a fist into the seat beside him.

Stella approached him, her eyes wary. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. “What did the mechanic say?”

“It’s going to be a few hours.” Stella perched on the edge of the chair next to Finn. “He suggested we visit the fun park across the street if we don’t want to wait here.”

“How much is it going to cost?”

Stella bit her lip. “Around $600; some part needs to be replaced. Big Ty is checking to see if he has it in stock. If he doesn’t, he’ll have to contact one of the other shops in the area. If no one has it, we’re going to be hanging out in Fort Edgerton for longer than we planned.” Stella groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it.”

“Well, let’s just get a rental car and keep going.”

“No way, I’m not going to leave Josie!”

“Josie?”

“My car!”

“Fine, fine. We’ll stay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover it,” Finn said. He didn’t know how, though; the tow had nearly eaten up the last bit of his cash. But he couldn’t stand to see Stella look so dejected. And besides, if he hadn’t brought her into this mess, the car would have never broken down. Well, it probably would have, just not on his watch.

“You said you’re running low on funds.”

“It’s my fault we’re in this mess; I’ll handle it. For now, let’s just go distract ourselves at the fun park.”

“Can we afford—” Stella began.

Finn put a single finger to her lips, and Stella’s eyes crossed as she tried to focus on it.

“Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up. “Does the mechanic have your number?”

Stella nodded, then let her eyes drift back to her hand, still clasped in Finn’s.

“Alright, then let’s go across the street so I can kick your butt at mini-golf.”

It was early in the evening when Stella and Finn found themselves on the twelfth hole of the mini-golf course at Oasis Fun Park. They’d already tried their hand at the arcade games inside the air-conditioned building; red tickets trailed from Finn’s pocket. Now that it had cooled down somewhat, they were competing for the lowest score on the AstroTurf.

Stella bet that at one point in its existence, the fun park truly
had
been an oasis in dry, dusty Texas. But at the moment, the maniacally grinning animals with their peeling paint and chipped googly eyes were something out of Stella’s childhood nightmares. She blinked at the faded hippopotamus with its judgy smirk and shuddered.

The hippopotamus knew Stella had been tempted to cheat on Derek last night. Stella’s muscles were tense, and her eyes darted from group to group playing through the course. They
all
knew. She needed to make sure it
never
happened again. She turned her attention back to Finn, who was sizing up the hole. He glanced back at her and smiled.
Much
easier said than done.

Finn lined up his shot and made his putt. The ball didn’t go in, but landed close enough that he easily sank the next shot.

“Haha, yes!” Finn pumped his fist in the air. “I’m still leading with twenty-four. You have thirty-eight.” He made a mark on the blue scorecard with his tiny golf pencil.

“You’re lying! Let me see the scores.” Stella reached for the card, but Finn held it above his head.

“Why can’t you just accept that you are
terrible
at this game?” Finn asked, grinning and still holding the scorecard out of reach.

“Well, how’d
you
get so good at mini-golf?”

Finn puffed up his chest. “I’ll have you know that I play golf with Alex at least once a month. Now take your turn or forfeit.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” It was a tricky one. A windmill with rotating sails guarded the hole. Stella placed her purple ball on the AstroTurf and whacked it.

“It’s going…going…” Finn called. The ball sailed over the bumper and into some half-dead monkey grass. “And it’s gooooone!”

Stella turned and gave him a dirty look before stomping down the green to retrieve her ball. “I call a redo!”

“There are no redos in putt-putt.”

“You don’t make the rules!” Stella crouched down and parted the grass. She held up the ball triumphantly. “Aha! Found it!”

She went back to the start, where Finn was leaning on his putter, and tried to push him out of the way with her hip.