TRICKY DICKY

Thought I'd switch it up a little and post some fiction! This is the 1st chapter of my novel-in-progress....I hope to get many comments//feedback on what you like and what you don't and, well, if you just really don't care....Smoochies!


We saw the lights in the distance; the first we’d seen in an hour. A few moments later, an 18-wheeler skidded to a stop in the gravel in front of us, lights blinking like a lotto machine in Vegas.
We ran to get in--Lori first with her practical backpack and me stumbling behind, feet ice-skating in the gravel while trying to maneuver my knock-off Louis Vuitton “Latchel” (supposedly a cross between luggage and a satchel).  The passenger door swung open.
“What the hell are two darlin’s like y’all doin’ out here at this time of night? Get on in,” we heard.
“I want to sit in front,” Lori whispered, nudging me.  “You get in first.”
No argument here, I thought.  I grabbed a rung on the side of the truck, hoisted myself up and crawled to the sleeping area in the back. It smelled like stale beer, cigarettes and B.O.  Lovely.  I heard the automatic click of the doors locking as we eased back onto the highway.
“Name’s Tricky Dicky,” the driver said, grinning, showing teeth that were certainly no stranger to chaw. He kept glancing between Lori and I, excitedly, as if he expected applause.
“Hey, darlin’ there in the back,” he snorted, “Reach back there in the corner and tell me what you find.”
No fucking way, I thought. For the first time during our little “outing,” fear grabbed me and my whole body seized up.  I envisioned hacked up body parts or his dead mother dressed for the ball, or, even worse, a severed horse head like in the Godfather, an image that still gets me.  I felt around on the cushion under me for wet spots and tried to act casual as I glanced around the cubicle. It was too dark to really see much and my hands came up dry.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” he said. “Trick Dicky got yer tongue?”  He laughed himself into a spastic coughing fit.
I began kicking Lori’s seat and gave her the holy-shit-big-eyed expression when she turned around. She returned the expression and turned back around.  A little help here, I thought.
“Now,” he said. “Where’re you two goin? I’m on a straight shot to good ol’ F.L.A. and we could have us one helluva party between now and then.”
“Well, actually, I’m just going to check in with my sister and let her know we’re on our way,” I said, digging for my cell phone.  “She lives near Efland and is waiting up for us. If you could just drop us off by the Efland exit she’ll be at the gas station to pick us up.  We really appreciate the ride, uh, Mister.” What was I supposed to say, “We really appreciate the ride Tricky Dicky?”  No way! If I remembered correctly, we were about an hour from Efland.  My sister lived in Chapel Hill and didn’t even know we were coming, but God willing and the creek don’t rise, she would soon enough. Or, more like God willing and we don’t get chopped up into little pieces and eaten for breakfast with some fava beans, she would soon enough.
“Well,” he said, “that’ll work too. Now, what’re y’all names? You must be the quiet one, eh,” he said, glancing over at Lori. “I can’t say you’re the pretty one because you both sure are fine...”  As if! Yeah, Lori, pipe up! What are we gonna do now? Lori had a knack for bailing when the going got rough. I was usually the one to get us out of whatever trouble we happened to be in. Ah, the burden of being quick on your feet... “I’m Daisy Consuelos Virginia Estes,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.” She was hugging her backpack to her chest, stiff as a board.
“Daisy Configaro what?” he said, “what kinda name is that? I didn’t realize I had me a real live senorita here...”
Oh yeah, I thought. And let’s not make it a real dead senorita. What was she thinking? Even he would have to see that with her pale skin and strawberry hair she was about as far from Latino as you could get.
“Oh, Lori,” I said. “She’s not only the quiet one, she’s the funny one. Yeah, Lori, you sure are funny!”  “Actually,” I said, “this is Lori, and my name is Berkely. We’re on our way to visit my sister, but I guess I already told you that.”
“Yesirree,” he said. “Now, let’s get back to business and go on and hand me that thing back there,” he said.
I still hadn’t found my phone but now I needed a cigarette. I found the pack in the bottom of my purse. “Is it okay if I smoke?” I asked.
“Help yerself, darlin’,” he said. “Think I’ll have me one too.”  He flicked open a lighter in my direction and I inhaled the sweet menthol deep into my lungs. I noticed a black panther and Confederate flag on the front of the lighter.  It seemed familiar somehow.
He glanced back at me, looking me up and down.
“Don’t tell me you’re scaart to grab ahold of that thing back there,” he said. “It won’t bite, and neither will I,  we’re just going to have us some fun.”
I don’t think I’m into your kind of fun, I thought. In fact, I would bet my life on it. Actually, scratch that. I certainly wasn’t in a position to bet my life.
Afraid of making him mad if I stalled any longer, I took a deep breath and began walking my hand toward the corner behind me. I touched something cold and rubbery, smooth and round.
You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. I wrapped my hand around what had to have been the world’s largest dildo.  One end smacked me in the face as I lifted it up. It collapsed into an upside down U-shape under it’s own weight; I swear to God that thing was at least 3 ft. long.
Sniggers from the driver’s seat turned into another wheezing fit as Tricky Dicky  struggled to keep control of the truck.
Oh shit, I thought, now we’re going to crash and I am going to be found holding this enormous dildo. I can see the headlines now. If my parents weren’t mortified enough by my behavior already, this would certainly cinch the deal.
“Whataya think,” he yelled, “you like that thing, or what?  Here, hand it up and I’ll show you what I like to do.”
It’s heavy enough to knock him out, I thought, if I just swing it hard enough at his head.