Chapter Two: First Real Test

After an ill-fated attempt to get the car going, I decided to abandon it, seeing how it was well beyond my capability to repair. A minor setback, but by that evening I was somewhere along the border of Missouri and Kansas and still feeling just as free as I did earlier that morning. Just me, my little backpack, and some half-worn Nike’s on my feet. I found myself strolling into a little two-bit town with just as many traffic lights. Up ahead, I heard a faint noise. After a few more paces, I realized it was music. It was Brooks and Dunn! I had stumbled across a little backwoods Honky Tonk.

Before daring myself to go in for a drink, I sat down on a guard rail and rested my bag next to me. The cool breeze of an early 90s midwestern summer night felt refreshing. Right about that time, a little beater car pulled up in front of the roadhouse. It was driven by a pretty little blonde that had clearly seen better days. Bags under her eyes and slightly unkempt hair, she had a sadness about her that was visible to anybody she’d have encountered. When she stopped the car, three passengers got out, whooping and hollering. The front passenger, with a red ball cap on and matching plaid vest jacket came around to the driver side. She rolled the window down to await his instructions.

“Lauren, we’re only gonna be here an hour, so don’t take too long with your prissy nail salon shit,” he directed at the woman.

“Right,” she nodded.

“Be out here when we’re ready, you got that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied again.

“Yes, what, bitch?” he asserted.

“Yes sir,” she nodded again.

“Say, yes, I’ll be out here when you guys get out.” he ordered.

Without hesitation, she parroted, “Yes, I’ll be out here when you guys get out.”

“Good,” he said, as he leaned in and kissed her, lightly smacking her cheek as he turned to go into the bar.

The woman in the car rolled off as the hollering men spouted off about how drunk they were going to get. This piqued my interest, so I decided that if I wasn’t going to go inside before, I certainly was now.

I entered the bar, and it was rather lively given the small town. There couldn’t have been more than a thousand or so people in that town, maybe twenty-five hundred if you go into the county. But the bar was about 75% full. I strolled up to the bar without causing much notice as an outsider. The jukebox blared some raucous country tune and a few groups of men played pool, including the shitheads from earlier.

I sat down at the bar and the bartender asked me, “What’ll it be, stranger?”

I replied, “Shot of straight gin.”

“Straight gin?!” he asked curiously, “are you sure?”

I had never been much of a drinker, but something told me I should tonight.

“Yes, straight gin.”

He obliged and I drank it down in one go, asking for another.

Shot after shot, I burned my mouth good.

As I took in my new and unusual surroundings, I noticed that the three guys who entered before me were even more rowdy than they let on when they came in. Which is saying something. Louder than the music, aggressively spilling their drinks on the pool table, and slapping the daisy dukes wearing waitress on her hind end as she passed by. It was clear these guys were regulars, but their antics were only put up with begrudgingly.

After about an hour and twenty minutes passed, I saw those tipsy guys start to gather themselves to pay their tabs and leave. I decided I wanted to see what would happen outside, so I asked the bartender for a glass of White Lightning.

He asked, “Mister, are you sure? After all the gin you’ve had?”

I put a twenty dollar bill down on the table and didn’t say a word. When he poured the glass, I downed it in two or three swigs. Why did I want it? I don’t know, I’d just always heard about it and thought I’d give it a try. In my mind, it was a magical elixir that could carry someone through any tough situation.

Once I finished my drink, I made for the door and proceeded to leave. By the time this had all transpired, I found myself walking into the red hat guy yelling his head off at the blonde from earlier, who was sitting on the back of her car waiting.

“I told you to be ready in an hour you fuckin whore!”

“I know! I was out here. It was a nice night, and you guys were taking longer, so I decided to wait outside the car,” she defended.

Red hat raged and said, “Whatever, I’m drivin us home you cunt!”

Without argument, she hopped off the trunk and handed him the keys as the other two made their way to the back seat. It was at this time that I saw the full embodiment of Lauren. She was rather tall for a woman, with shoulder length blonde hair, jean shorts and a black button up top on. Aside from her obvious self-esteem issues, her apparent substance abuse, and the occasional visibility of a bruise, she was beautiful!

My better judgment got a hold of me and I realized a few things. For one, a hot headed drunk is about to get behind the wheel with three other people. At least 1/3rd of which are probably innocent. The other realization I made was that if I was for real about my new life path and I was serious about this journey, that I probably needed to learn how to fight. Sure, I had the physical tone of a middleweight fighter but no formal training or experience. But what better way to learn than fight these idiots drunk?!

So as Lauren got in the passenger seat and red hat shut his door, I piped up, “I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive.”

Before turning the ignition over, he looked out the window to me and said, “What was that?”

“I said, drunk faggots don’t need to drive with ladies in the car…faggot.”

Right then, red hat got out of the car and slammed the door as he walked towards me.

He then asked, “What the fuck you just say to me?”

“Jason, please, get back in the car,” cried Lauren, as whooping sounds came from the back seat comrades.

“Shut up bitch, this don’t concern you. I just wanna talk to our new friend.” He looked me over before continuing, “You ain’t from around here, are ya?”

I said, “Nope, and I’m afraid to inform you that this does concern that bitch. You see, I can’t let you drive off recklessly and endanger her…any more than you probably already do on a daily basis.”

“Whoop his ass Jason!” one of his friends yelled as everyone else got out of the car.

The liquor was starting to take effect, and even slight movements felt amplified. I knew I had to be careful if all three jumped in but as of now, the primary hick seemed to stumble more than I was.

“Tell you what,” Jason said, “I’m feelin real generous tonight, and seein as how I just got out of jail and don’t wanna go back in yet, I’ll give you a chance to apologize and leave.”

”Or what?” I asked abruptly.

His pals gasped and chuckled as they came around the back of the car, but Lauren looked worried.

Jason looked back at them, laughed, and then said, “Or, I’ll leave you in the ditch and slap that slut more than once for putting all of us out tonight.”

Lauren looked down towards the ground. She knew this wasn’t an empty threat. I knew the talking part wasn’t gonna last much longer, so I decided to do something brash and unexpected. I leaned back laughing, turned, and swung wildly at him. My first hit connected and was pretty effective. Jason regained his balance then came back at me with a hit of his own. It connected and knocked me back towards the bar. I felt the pain for about three seconds before it faded under the slow creep of the gin.

Cheering erupted from the two friends and Lauren jerked away as to not look at what would happen next. Another hit came in, this one not as bad. We scuffled a little bit before he grabbed my shoulder with his left hand and swung again with his right. That hit knocked me down. While on the ground, I found a loose piece of wrought iron, about two feet long. I picked it up and while all three men were laughing, swung it upside the head of Jason, knocking his hat off. He stumbled forward and shook off delirium. The laughter stopped. Suddenly, the other two angrily joined in, and I’ll tell anyone to this day, I got my ass royally kicked.

After about two minutes of this, they let off as I lay there. They stumbled back to the car yelling obscenities at me. Jason grabbed Lauren by the arm and guided her to the passenger seat. He forced her to sit down and slammed the door. When he got back into the driver seat, he gassed it and the car squealed off into the night.

By this time, a small crowd had been gathering, catching the tail end of the fight. Some patrons, the bartender, and waitress came to my aid and sat me up.

“Are you alright mister?” the country tavern girl asked.

“Yeah,” I coughed, fearing I was spitting up my own blood. But to my astonishment, I wasn’t all that hurt. The pain was limited to the blows I received at the moment of impact.

Some guy with a tan cowboy hat stood next to me and said, “You know, it's not every day somebody stands up to Jason Hayden. I’m mighty impressed, tell ya the truth!”

“Why’s this fucker so special?” I choked out the question.

“He’s not,” the fellow replied, “In fact, I’m not so sure anyone would miss him if he disappeared.”

“Well, that’s one thing we have in common,” I stated as I got to my feet.

I looked around, getting my bearings straight before asking the townsfolk, “Where the hell did they go off to? I’m pretty worried about the girl. I might’ve just made things worse for her.”

The bartender answered, ”Just past Oaks Crossing, about ten minutes drive that way out of town. If you’re planning on going out there, you won’t miss it. He’s always got lights on and music blaring. Made all of his neighbors within a mile move.”

“Thanks for the info, just one more thing. Can I buy a bottle of that White Lightning off you?” I teetered about as I tried to get my footing.

“Mister, you can take the bottle. It’s on the house after what you did here tonight,” the bartender exclaimed.

“Thanks. That shits like Popeye’s spinach for me in a fight. I feel pretty good now actually!” I said, as I stood up straight and the remaining pain from the fight subsided.

After dusting myself off and retrieving the bottle, I took off down the road with a light jog in the direction of Oaks Crossing, taking swigs of White Lightning as I went. Faster and faster my strides got until I could hear the faint sounds of Def Leppard in the distance. I knew I had to have found the place when I saw truck tires in the yard, a Jeep up on bricks, and Lauren’s little 1980 Chevette parked in front of that crappy porch. I thought it best to scope things out from the bushes before getting noticed.

Not long after I got there, the porch door swung open and Lauren stumbled out. She shielded the back of her head as Jason crept behind her shouting, “Goddamn it woman, you spent all fuckin night at that fuckin salon while I’m busy out with the boys and you don’t even get smokes and booze for the house! Get your junkie ass to the fuckin Quick Trip and don’t come back until you’re worth more than fifteen cents.”

Lauren hurriedly hopped into her car and sped off as Jason went back inside. I decided this might be a good time to approach since the woman was out of the way and there was no longer a chance, he could turn on her if shit got real between us again. I say ‘if’, like there was a possibility that wasn’t going to happen. Anyhow, I got out from behind the bushes and walked towards the porch. The music was so loud, it definitely masked my approach.

Looking in through the window, I saw a shitty living room, with a shitty couch, with two shitheads sitting on it. Scanning to the left, I see Jason walking towards me. I ducked quickly. Fortunately, he didn’t see me. I could hear him mumbling to the other two. After a minute, they get up and go out the back door. I decided to sneak into the house. I’m not sure what my plan was, but I wanted to do something to screw his life up. Not that it wasn’t pretty screwed up already.

After a moment of sneaking in through the front door, I took a peek towards the back of the house and noticed they got a bunch of spotlights lit up. Great, they’ve got guns out and are about to start shooting at bottles in the backyard. I figured I pretty much had free reign in the house, so I decided to take a look around. Every room is about as shabby as the last until I come across a spare bedroom. I turn on the light, and Eureka, it’s a room full of NASCAR memorabilia! This is the most put together room in the house too! This guy had everything. Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt, Bill Elliott. I finally found a way to hit him where it hurts.

But what about the girl? I stopped for a second and gathered myself as shots rang out from the back yard continuously. I already decided yesterday that I don’t care what happens to me anymore, but she could really die because of this. Then I realized, she probably was gonna die because of him anyway. At the very least, I could fuck some stuff up and get her to leave before they came back inside. I was sure she was on her way back by now.

So that settled it. Without further ado, I started trashing the room. I broke model cars, posters, statues, replica jackets and helmets. The place looked like a goddamn warzone. But in the middle of my fit, the unthinkable happened. There, standing in the doorway of this shrine of hickdom, was none other than red hat himself.

“What the hell?!” he shouted, just before rushing me.

Too late, the damage had been done. We started fighting throughout the house and the liquor is fully kicking in on me now. I was like the abominable snowman, and aside from a few lucky strikes, it's his ass that's getting kicked this time. You see, alcohol appeared to inhibit him more than it did me. As our fight made its way into the living room, he shouted for help from his friends, even yelling so loud that they could hear him over the shotguns and the music.

Before the other two could get inside, I pushed him straight through a wooden coffee table and jetted for the door. Seconds after stepping out on the porch, there in all her glorious angelic light, was Lauren, sitting behind the wheel of her car. She yelled for me through the passenger window, “Come on! Get in!” Didn’t have to tell me twice, I hopped in, and she drove off just as Jason snagged a shotgun from his friend's hand and opened up across the lawn.

“You’re crazy, you know that,” she said.

“And your boyfriend isn't?” I replied as I gathered myself from the last fight.

“I know how crazy he is. It’s you that I’m just learning about. Who are you anyway?” she asked, as she drove like blue blazes down the country road.

I muttered, then paused for a second, “...Just call me Guy.”

“Guy? I’m Lauren,” she said, extending one hand away from the wheel to shake mine.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Not sure, but we got bigger problems than a destination right now. Look!” she signaled to the rearview mirror.

Behind us, tearing out of the darkness of night was Jason following us in his junky pickup truck. We were way ahead, but he was gaining fast on us since we were in that little subcompact. Within minutes, he was right up on our bumper slamming into us. Lauren wheeled all over the road, trying to get us away from him, but it was impossible. Finally, she took a sharp turn and when Jason followed, he went out too far and clipped a tree, severely damaging his truck. Lauren drove another half mile before pulling behind a big red barn. She was crying and makeup was streaming down her face. I told her to change seats with me. I’m no expert driver, but anything is better than someone losing their cool and going into shock.

I waited a minute or two, then pulled out from behind the barn. There, down at the end of the road, I see the high beams of Jason’s truck, just sitting there. He revved his engine up in an attempt to intimidate us. It worked. I looked down to the left, and I saw a small narrow wooden bridge, with a ravine on one side. Not huge, must’ve been about a hundred feet deep.

“I have an idea, but it's gonna count on him continuing to be a dumbass,” I quipped.

“No problem there,” she noted, “whatcha got?”

“Just hang on tight,” I said, as I accelerated towards the bridge.

No sooner than I hit the gas, Jason came ripping towards us, gaining in no time. He must have gotten ten feet from our bumper by the time our tires hit the wood of the bridge. I immediately started fishtailing around like Lauren was doing back on the main road. Jason reciprocated and tried to keep up with us. About halfway across the bridge, I leaned the car heavily to the right. Lauren was crying, looking down, and gripping my arm as I drove. Then at the right moment, I zagged all the way to the left again. Jason jerked the wheel and right before we came off the bridge on the other side. His front passenger wheel took the ledge, sending his truck tumbling down in the ravine into a fiery demise.

Not long after pulling off the bridge, I turned the car around and faced the ravine. Smoke was billowing in the air from the explosion. Lauren started hyperventilating. I should have been as well, but I had to force myself to remember to breathe. Because all I could think about at that moment was that this was the first time I killed a motherfucker.

After we gathered ourselves, we started back, towards town. Lauren gave me directions and said something similar to what the townsfolk said about no one missing him. I asked her about his two friends, if they’d come looking for us. As she put it, “Josh and Brian are just a couple of pussies. They’re probably more worried about you coming for them next.”

“So where should we go?” I asked her.

“Well, we can go back to my mom's trailer north of town. Don’t worry, she’s not there…she’s dead. Huhha,” she said with nervous laughter.

So that night, I went and did what any rational person who’d recently gone crazy would have done. I went back to Lauren’s place and fucked the shit out of her. It’s wild to think that just forty-eight hours ago I was waking up to a fever dream about the NBA and questioning my purpose in life, and now I was dinosaur neck dick deep in this sexy country girl.

This may be hard for you to believe, but that was honestly the first time I felt true love. Yes, I had something there with Cassandra, and my girlfriend in high school. But this was something different. Lauren represented to me the final flip of the switch to reckless abandon that would permeate the rest of my journey. And nothing supernatural had even happened…

…yet!

I almost didn’t want to leave Lauren that next day. I say almost, because after all, she was a meth head, and that usually can’t ever be good. But it still doesn’t change the profound effect it had on me, my journey, and my view on future relationships.

When I set out the following afternoon, I made her promise me she would get clean, value herself better, and stay away from the Jasons of the world. She agreed and I honestly believed her. I’m not sure where her journey took her and it’s probably far different than where mine took me. But when I stepped foot on that Greyhound bus out of town, I felt for the first time in my life I made a difference for someone else. I also learned that moonshine could shift a fight in my favor heavily!

“Is your name really Guy?” she asked, just before I got on the bus.

I breathed in deeply and said, “It wasn’t always. But at the end of the day, yeah, I’m just some guy.”