My Ship Comes In, Excerpt 18: regrets, I’ve had a few….

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My Ship Comes In, Excerpt 18: regrets, I’ve had a few….

June 22, 2022 by T.K. O'Neill

“My Ship Comes In” is the fourth story, a novella, in T.K. O’Neill’s Northwoods Pulp Reloaded collection of three short crime stories and this longer story.

CHAPTER 9

“There it is,” she’s saying, and it seems like her voice is miles away. “There. There! Stop, there it is. What’s the matter with you, you’re going by it?”

I snap back from my trip down the tunnel of despair and slowly pull over to the side of the road. I look carefully in the rearview mirror and swing a u-turn. A moment later I’m pulling into an old, dirty white service station that looks to be left over from the early days of Florida. We park on the side of the building by a pile of rusted springs and mufflers and various other rusted parts. Dory grabs her purse and jumps out of the van. I stay inside in a daze, thinking I’d take off down the highway if I didn’t need her car.

But I need her and she knows it.

Five eternal minutes go by before she comes prancing back around the corner of the building like she’s playing run around the Maypole. She’s fuckin’ skipping for Christ sake. And again looking to all the world like the damaged, frightened little buttercup I discovered at the café. Deeply now, I wish I had known when to keep my mouth shut.

Running off at the mouth, whether an attempt at friendly conversation or nervous spewing, can get you in trouble. Trouble of any kind can be caused by something you say. The wrong words to the wrong person at the wrong time and BANG—you won’t know what hit you.

She comes up to the window and I can’t help but stare at the soft skin below her neck leading to those luscious breasts. The sunshine on her hair and the glint in her pale blue eyes almost make me forget how fucked up everything is. For a brief moment I start to believe that I might actually get out of this unscathed.

Dory comes in real close and presses her hips against the door. She looks into my eyes and smiles broadly, and for the first time, I get a look at her teeth.

Poor girl has what we Northerners call “hillbilly teeth.” Decaying, discolored and uneven, they resemble Keith Richards’ mouth in the early days of the Rolling Stones. Most likely the result of a one hundred percent sugar diet. And being too busy running away from her father to brush. I hate to be superficial, but it’s not a pleasant sight, ruins the picture.

“Keith, darlin’, ” she says in kind of a drawl, “if you’ll come on in and bring along that Chevron Card and the rest of the wallet, we can pay the bill and get out of Dodge.”

“I don’t even know if these cards are any good. And you better start calling me Elton. I don’t know why the cards are in here or what they’re for. For all I know, they’re on the Arrest Immediately list. Could be hot as sun-baked asphalt.”

“Ya think these boys have all the fancy equipment to check on things like that? Shit, these dudes can barely turn on the radio without help. All they can do is fix cars and jerk off. You need to stop worrying. After I practically had to get down on my knees to get them to accept a credit card, we have to use it. I told them you were my fiancé from Colorado, come here to rescue me.”

I’m feeling pretty much defeated now. “It’s a Chevron station, so I guess they have to take it.” My words come out low and soft.

“I don’t know about that, but I ‘magine these boys do what they please around here. Ain’t a heck of a lot of competition. This is the only station for miles.”

“In two years it’ll be a strip mall.”

She crinkles her eyes at me and pulls on the door handle. I climb reluctantly out of the VW and Dory takes my hand in hers. My instinct is to pull it back but instead I swallow hard and keep walking along. What the hell…

(To be continued)

See all T.K. O’Neill’s books here: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B09HPBWMJF