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Long Haul
The moment he spotted her, Rudy knew that if he didn't pick her up right now, somebody else would snag her.
He'd noticed her the moment he stepped out of his rig. She stood out like a sore thumb, standing in front of the greasy spoon that pretended to serve this particular run down truck stop. The place had a name, but Rudy was damned if he could remember it. Not that he cared. To him, it was just a convenient spot off of I-81. The diesel was cheap for this part of Virginia and the bathrooms worked. And that was all he really cared about.
Until now, that is.
Rudy watched her out of the corner of his eye as he approached the restaurant. She was leaning back against the wall of the building, under one of the few working lights. Between her leather boots and short miniskirt she was showing off an awful lot of leg. Her shirt was a little better, in that it almost reached the top of her skirt. At least the neckline didn't plunge too low. And she was wearing a short sleeved vest over it. Her hair was a dirty blonde, switching over to black at the ends, and he couldn't tell if it was an intentional style or a bad dye job. At her feet was a small rolling suitcase.
All in all, she was not exactly dressed to be standing outside at 1:00 am on a cool night in early October.
Rudy gave her a slight nod as he passed by, opening the door to the restaurant. The parking lot was empty, so he knew he had a bit of time. Long enough to take care of business and consider his options at any rate.
He was washing his hands in the restroom when he made his decision. Nodding to himself, he headed for the door, ignoring the truck stop attendant. The grumpy old woman had barely acknowledged his entrance when he had come in, being too busy shooting glares at the young girl hanging out in front of her establishment.
Stepping out of the building, Rudy paused and took in a deep breath of fresh air. If you considered the smell of diesel fuel and greasy fried food 'fresh.' He looked over at the girl beside him, his eyes roaming across her from top to bottom, lingering on the suitcase at her feet. To her credit, she hardly flinched at his frank assessment.
“Evening, girl.” He offered.
“Evening.” She replied neutrally. She kept leaning back against the wall, looking out across the parking lot as if the gas pumps were the most fascinating things in the world. But he could see her eyes flickering as she kept him in her peripheral vision.
“Isn't it a bit late for a young thing like you to be out?” He raised an eyebrow, giving his bushy beard a scratch.
“I'm eighteen.” She shot back immediately. She might even have been telling the truth, if Rudy were any judge. “I can go where I want.”
“I suppose you can at that.” He drawled, then nodded at her bag. “You planning to go anyplace in particular?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “Anyplace but here I suppose.” She kept her voice even and unconcerned, but Rudy doubted that the slight shivering he saw was from the cold.
“I suppose you're looking for a ride then?”
The young girl pushed herself off the wall and turned to face him for the first time. She licked her lips, narrowing her eyes in what she imagined was a flirtatious manner.
“I suppose so.”
“And I suppose you would be mighty grateful to anyone who might offer you… a ride?” He raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone even and conversational.
“Very, very grateful.” She purred, batting her eyes at him as one hand slide down along her leg, drawing attention to her creamy thighs.
“Hmmmmm...” Rudy scratched his beard once again. His other hand however, slowly reached out to her arm, grasping it lightly.
It was clearly a struggle for her to not back away, but she stood her ground. But even with his light grip, Rudy could feel her trembling under his fingers. Feel how tense, how tightly wound she was.
“Saints alive girl, you're so cold you're shivering.” Looking into her eyes, eyes filled with both hope and terror, he slowly released her limb. “Why don't you go mosey on to my rig, and we'll see about getting you warmed up.”
“S… Sure thing.” She stuttered, rubbing her arms with her hands, desperate to hide her discomfort. She quickly pulled out the handle of her bag and started walking towards where his 18-wheeler was parked next to the pumps.
It took a few steps before she remembered to put and extra little wiggle in her walk, making her hips sway.
Rudy shook his head at the sight before looking behind him into the restaurant. The old lady inside was glowering at him now. He'd have thought she'd be happy to have him remove the 'working girl' from her rest stop, but apparently not. Not that he cared what some heartless old busy body thought. Or what anybody else thought, really. He lived by his own set of rules, and he was happier that way.
It was the work of a few minutes and a few hundred dollars to finish topping off his diesel tanks. And then he was sliding into the driver's seat of his big rig, next to a very nervous looking young lady.
“Ever been in a Peterbilt before?”
“Uh, no.” She licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting around cab as she settled herself in the soft bucket seat. “It's so big...”
“Yeah, a lot of ladies say that.” Rudy chuckled as he turned the ignition. But out of the corner of his eye he watched as she tensed up at his words, before forcing herself to relax. He could tell the exact moment she remembered to reapply her mask of worldly aloofness.
He could see right through it thought. Through to the fear and desperation and excitement and relief and all the other emotions that were running roughshod through her psyche. He could see it all.
“You can stick your bag in the back.” He gestured towards the extended cab behind him as he started up his engine, listening to the familiar roar. “Then buckle up. We've got to be on the road.”
The girl had been kind enough to remain silent while Rudy maneuvered back onto the interstate. Driving his rig was second nature after so many years behind the wheel. But even so, nobody wanted to be distracted while merging onto an on ramp. Even if there was hardly any traffic this late at night.
But they'd been on the interstate for ten minutes now, and the road was straight, level, and clear. A little conversation wouldn't be amiss.
“So, you got a name, girl?” He asked, breaking the silence. His passenger barely hesitated before answering.
“Scarlet.” She replied with a smile.
“Well now, that's a real pretty name for a real pretty girl, Scarlet.”
“Well, thank you.” She turned and gave him what she clearly thought was a sultry smile. But to Rudy, it just looked frightened and desperate.
“So, where do you call home then, Scarlet?”
The young woman just shrugged, turning to start out the windshield.
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere, huh? I've been there. Been to lots of Nowheres over the years.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Funny thing about Nowhere. It's always Somewhere to someone.”
“So, where's your home, mister….?” She trailed off invitingly, clearly trying to change the subject.
“Rudy. You can call me Rudy.” He nodded back towards the rear of his cab. “And my home is right here. I haul it around with me wherever I go.”
“Like a hermit crab? Or a turtle?” She asked with genuine curiosity, turning to look behind her.
She had to squint to see much in the dimly lit interior. She could just make out a little counter top with a sink, what might have been a microwave or a toaster over, and a little nook with a table and bench. The dark rectangle against the wall might have been a small TV, and there was the outline of a door… to a bathroom perhaps? It really was a tiny little apartment, packed into the back of the Peterbilt.
Rudy just chuckled and nodded at her description and curiosity, never taking his eyes off the road. “Well, I suppose so. Though I like to think I'm a lot friendlier than a hermit. And that my home is a bit faster than a turtle. It might not be much, but it's mine.”
“Well, I think you're plenty friendly, and plenty fast. And I really appreciate you giving me a ride.” Her smile was supposed to be warm and sultry, not plastic and fake. But it was far closer to the latter than the former.
“It's no problem. I've spent most of my life out on the open road. It can get a mite lonely sometimes. Can be nice to have some company.” His voice was calm and pleasant, and his eyes remained firmly on the road.
“I'm sure it can.” She tried to purr. It was clear that events weren't progressing quite the way she had expected. Rudy doubted that she wanted him leering at and ogling over her the entire drive. But she likely expected him to be doing so.
He'd have bet that she was also hoping that he hadn't noticed when started to move one of her hands to rest on his thigh. Or the way her trembling limb stopped in indecision halfway through the motion, before returning to her lap.
But notice it he did.
The conversation lulled then, both of them staring at the road before them, watching each yellow lines appear in the headlights, blur past, and disappear in the rear-view mirror.
Finally, Rudy broke the silence, his voice light and conversational.
“So, what're you running from?” He asked. Scarlet just blinked at him in surprise.
“Wha.. I'm not running from anything!” She insisted.
“Come on now girl.” Rudy chuckled. “I was born on a Tuesday, but it wasn't last Tuesday. This isn't my first rodeo, and I can tell when someone is on the run.” He didn't sound worried, or angry, or judgmental. Just… friendly, and perhaps a little curious.
“I… I told you! I'm not a runaway!” Her voice was indignant, but her hands were shaking on the armrests as she seemed to sink into the bucket seat.
“Drugs, maybe?” He asked, her words unheeded. “I didn't see any track marks on your arms though. And you've got too many teeth to be doing that Meth crap. Pills then? Perscription stuff...”
“I'm not a druggie!” She interrupted, her indignation seeming more sincere this time.
Rudy accepted that with a nod before continuing on.
“Not drugs then. Hmmmm.. Boyfriend trouble maybe? You get in a family way, and you're heading out of town to keep it a secret? Or get it taken care of?” He said it so… blandly. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. Scarlet, on the other hand, blanched and sputtered.
“I'm not pregnant!” She rose back up in her seat and glared at him, her cheeks turning red at the notion.
“Hmmmmm.. Family trouble then? Mommy and Daddy didn't getcha that pony you always wanted, so now you're going to show 'em? Go out in the big old world on your own, and do all those things they told you not to?”
“…..” Scarlet settled back into her chair, eyes riveted to the windshield in front of her. “Sure, let's go with that one.” Her words were cold and bitter.
“Definitely family trouble then.” He scratched his chin with one hand, the other steady on the wheel. “So, was it your mother or your father that...”
“Stepfather.” She cut him off angrily. Rudy just raised an eyebrow, never taking his eyes off the road.
“Stepfather?”
“Stepfather.” She crossed her arms, clearly considering that to be the end of the conversation.
“Care to elaborate? Or should I just go back to guessing?”
Silence reigned in the cab for a few minutes. The only sounds were those of the engine and the road. Miles and minutes were eaten up one mile marker at a time as they both stared forward. Rudy waiting calmly and patiently, Scarlet sitting sullen and angry.
He was mentally giving her five more minutes before he began guessing again, when she broke the silence.
“My step dad likes to drink.” She growled out. Then she barked out a bitter laugh. “He drinks almost as much as mom does.”
Silenced reigned for a few more moments, and Rudy let it.
“It wasn't always so bad. But as I've grown up… He's started to get.. grabby, when he's drunk.” Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but it wasn't the road she was seeing. “And lately, the way he's been looking at me, even when he is sober….” She shook her head violently.
“I ain't going back. I'm eighteen. Ain't nobody can tell me what to do, or where to live!” She growled, her voice filled with anger and determination… Even as she curled up in her seat, her arms wrapped around her legs.
After a few tense moments, she turned to glare at him. “Happy now?” She demanded.
“Yeah, a bit.” He agreed, nodding slightly. For some reason his answer didn't seem to please her. He gave her a few minutes to cool down before speaking again.
“Why don't you go ahead and slip into the back. The bench and table fold down into a bed.” He suggested.
Scarlet paled at the suggestion, looking from him to the sleeper behind the cab, and then back to him again. Clearly she had forgotten the details of her current situation. And suddenly the nature of her… arrangement… was coming back to her.
Rudy just laughed at the expression on her face.
“God, girl, relax.” He chuckled. “I don't know how fancy you think this rig is, but let me tell you, cruise control ain't no autopilot. I'm going to be at the wheel for hours yet, and you look like you ain't slept in ages. You may as well catch some shuteye and get your energy back while you've got the chance.”
“Y… Yeah. Right. Of course.” She swallowed hard, clearly struggling to regain her equilibrium. Her expression shifted and wavered as she tried to decide if she should return to acting like an experienced, sultry 'working girl.'
In the end, she went with just being herself. A nervous young woman, out of her depth. With a quick nod, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid into the sleeper compartment of the cab.
Rudy listened carefully to the noise of the bed being unfolded. The sound of sheets rustling was inaudible over the roar of the engine. The sleeper was hardly what one would call 'quiet' while the truck was on the road. But the rumble of the engine could be its own lullaby.
And more importantly, it made it impossible to hear what was going on in the cab.
Rudy waited an hour, just to be sure his guest was really and truly asleep. Then he reached for the touchscreen on his dashboard, once again giving thanks to the wonders of modern technology. Cell phones and Bluetooth were so much more convenient than CB radios.
When he re-entered the truck, Rudy was surprised to find Scarlet still asleep. She must have been more tired than he had thought. He'd expected her to wake up as soon as he turned off the engine, let alone when he opened and closed the cab door.
Apparently four hours of beauty rest hadn't been enough for her.
“Scarlet?” He spoke softly, gently shaking her. “It's time to get up. You've got things to do.”
“Wha? Scarlet? Who?” Came the sleepy, muffled reply. The young woman blinked up at him in confusion, then gasped and sat up in surprise at finding a stranger hanging over her.
He could practically read her thoughts as they crossed her face. Surprise and fear. 'Where am I, who is he.' Then remembrance and recollection. Her body and posture relaxed slightly as she glanced around. And then, finally, realization of her situation, and what was 'expected' of her.
He'd seen it all plenty of times over the years.
He didn't give her time to decide to don the mask of an experienced lady of the evening. Or to get cold feet. Instead he just stepped back and beckoned her forward.
“Grab your bag and come on. We're here, and time's a wasting.” He coaxed.
Befuddled, frightened, and resigned, Scarlet followed him out of the cab.
And stepped out onto a massive, well lit parking lot. At least half of which was filled with big rigs and 18-wheelers. With more coming and going every moment.
Rudy didn't say a word while his guest glanced around in surprise and a bit of awe. He just gestured for her to follow and set off for the mass of buildings that stuck up like an island in a sea of asphalt.
Scarlet followed along like a baby duckling waddling after it's mother.
Rudy slowed to a halt as they reached the main doors of the truck stop, nodding at the matronly older woman standing by the double doors.
“Margaret.” Rudy said as tilted his head.
“Rudy.” Came the curt, business-like reply. Then the woman's attention turned to the young woman.
“And this must be the latest sparrow with a broken wing you've brought for me to patch up?” She grumbled. Rudy just nodded, unconcerned by her gruff demeanor.
“This is 'Scarlet.'” He gestured, a small smile on his face. Margaret just groaned.
“The lord save me from soft hearted fools.” She groused. “But I suppose even He can't save me from myself.”
“Alright girl.” She growled. “I've got thirty rooms in this place, and over two hundreds truckers passing through every day. All in need of food, drink, a hot shower, and a good shave. If you can do dishes, wash clothes, cook worth a damn, or serve a dozen rowdy truckers without murdering anyone, you've got room and board and minimum wage to start with. You can't do any of that, and you're out on your rear, no matter what damned fool hauled you into my truck stop. We clear?”
All of this was very much not clear to Scarlet.
“What? Who? But, I'm not a… Who are.. What are you two… Just.. WHAT?” She stuttered, looking back and forth between Rudy and Margaret as if following a demented tennis match.
“A job girl.” Margaret snorted. “I'm offering you a job, and a place to stay. If you can hack it.” She crossed her arms, glowering slightly.
“But… But I'm… I'm not...” She looked at Rudy desperately.
“Girl, I don't know who or what you are. But I know what you're not. And that's a hooker.”
“How do you know that?” She demanded, frowning indignantly at him. Rudy just chuckled.
“Girl, you were trembling like a baby deer the moment I set eyes on you. You flinched if I so much as touched you. And you did things and took chances no sane working girl would.” As he spoke, Scarlet's head sunk lower and lower, until she was staring at the ground.
“Look, maybe you actually are eighteen. And if so, you're right. Nobody can tell you where or how to live. If that's the life you want to live, well, so be it.” He shrugged concernedly. “They call it the oldest profession for a reason. And hell, plenty of working girls pass through here, much as Margaret here might frown at 'em.” He smirked at the older woman's glare.
“If nothing else, you can learn a few things from 'em that might keep you from getting your fool self killed. But if you want to try a different path, well...” He nodded towards Margaret once more. “There you go.”
Scarlet looked between the two of them, trying to grasp the situation she found herself in. Licking her lips nervously, she turned to Rudy and his laid back expression, then to the stern look on Margaret's face. Finally, she nodded.
“I… I'll take the job...” She said softly, looking down at the ground. Margaret just nodded as if it had been a foregone conclusion.
“Alright then girl. Let's get you cleaned up and then get you to work. First we'll see if you're any good at cooking, then...”
Rudy tuned out the conversation as he turned and began to walk away. He'd barely registered the sound of boots on pavement before a pair of hands grabbed one of his, pulling him to a halt.
“Yeah?” He asked, turning to look down at Scarlet. She tugged on his hand, forcing him to bend down a bit.
“My real name is Judy.” She said. “And… Thank you.” Leaning up, she planted a kiss on his cheek, before turning and hurrying back towards the truck stop.
Rudy just smiled and rubbed his beard before shaking his head and turning back to his semi. He had a load of electronics to deliver, and this little detour had put him a half hour behind schedule. Still, it had been worth it, and he was sure he could make up the time if he was willing to put the pedal down. And he would, because there were people waiting for what he was hauling.
And that was the way he liked it. Because that's what being a long haul trucker meant to Rudy. It meant that he helped people, by bringing them the things they needed, when they needed them.
And sometimes, just sometimes, he got a chance to bring people to the places they needed to be, when they needed to be there.
Rudy smiled as he pulled the door to his cab open and slipped into the driver's seat. He ran his hand over the steering wheel before giving it a gentle pat.
“Well baby, I'm home. Now let's see what the road holds for us today.”
The engine purred in agreement as he turned the ignition.
He'd noticed her the moment he stepped out of his rig. She stood out like a sore thumb, standing in front of the greasy spoon that pretended to serve this particular run down truck stop. The place had a name, but Rudy was damned if he could remember it. Not that he cared. To him, it was just a convenient spot off of I-81. The diesel was cheap for this part of Virginia and the bathrooms worked. And that was all he really cared about.
Until now, that is.
Rudy watched her out of the corner of his eye as he approached the restaurant. She was leaning back against the wall of the building, under one of the few working lights. Between her leather boots and short miniskirt she was showing off an awful lot of leg. Her shirt was a little better, in that it almost reached the top of her skirt. At least the neckline didn't plunge too low. And she was wearing a short sleeved vest over it. Her hair was a dirty blonde, switching over to black at the ends, and he couldn't tell if it was an intentional style or a bad dye job. At her feet was a small rolling suitcase.
All in all, she was not exactly dressed to be standing outside at 1:00 am on a cool night in early October.
Rudy gave her a slight nod as he passed by, opening the door to the restaurant. The parking lot was empty, so he knew he had a bit of time. Long enough to take care of business and consider his options at any rate.
He was washing his hands in the restroom when he made his decision. Nodding to himself, he headed for the door, ignoring the truck stop attendant. The grumpy old woman had barely acknowledged his entrance when he had come in, being too busy shooting glares at the young girl hanging out in front of her establishment.
Stepping out of the building, Rudy paused and took in a deep breath of fresh air. If you considered the smell of diesel fuel and greasy fried food 'fresh.' He looked over at the girl beside him, his eyes roaming across her from top to bottom, lingering on the suitcase at her feet. To her credit, she hardly flinched at his frank assessment.
“Evening, girl.” He offered.
“Evening.” She replied neutrally. She kept leaning back against the wall, looking out across the parking lot as if the gas pumps were the most fascinating things in the world. But he could see her eyes flickering as she kept him in her peripheral vision.
“Isn't it a bit late for a young thing like you to be out?” He raised an eyebrow, giving his bushy beard a scratch.
“I'm eighteen.” She shot back immediately. She might even have been telling the truth, if Rudy were any judge. “I can go where I want.”
“I suppose you can at that.” He drawled, then nodded at her bag. “You planning to go anyplace in particular?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “Anyplace but here I suppose.” She kept her voice even and unconcerned, but Rudy doubted that the slight shivering he saw was from the cold.
“I suppose you're looking for a ride then?”
The young girl pushed herself off the wall and turned to face him for the first time. She licked her lips, narrowing her eyes in what she imagined was a flirtatious manner.
“I suppose so.”
“And I suppose you would be mighty grateful to anyone who might offer you… a ride?” He raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone even and conversational.
“Very, very grateful.” She purred, batting her eyes at him as one hand slide down along her leg, drawing attention to her creamy thighs.
“Hmmmmm...” Rudy scratched his beard once again. His other hand however, slowly reached out to her arm, grasping it lightly.
It was clearly a struggle for her to not back away, but she stood her ground. But even with his light grip, Rudy could feel her trembling under his fingers. Feel how tense, how tightly wound she was.
“Saints alive girl, you're so cold you're shivering.” Looking into her eyes, eyes filled with both hope and terror, he slowly released her limb. “Why don't you go mosey on to my rig, and we'll see about getting you warmed up.”
“S… Sure thing.” She stuttered, rubbing her arms with her hands, desperate to hide her discomfort. She quickly pulled out the handle of her bag and started walking towards where his 18-wheeler was parked next to the pumps.
It took a few steps before she remembered to put and extra little wiggle in her walk, making her hips sway.
Rudy shook his head at the sight before looking behind him into the restaurant. The old lady inside was glowering at him now. He'd have thought she'd be happy to have him remove the 'working girl' from her rest stop, but apparently not. Not that he cared what some heartless old busy body thought. Or what anybody else thought, really. He lived by his own set of rules, and he was happier that way.
It was the work of a few minutes and a few hundred dollars to finish topping off his diesel tanks. And then he was sliding into the driver's seat of his big rig, next to a very nervous looking young lady.
“Ever been in a Peterbilt before?”
“Uh, no.” She licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting around cab as she settled herself in the soft bucket seat. “It's so big...”
“Yeah, a lot of ladies say that.” Rudy chuckled as he turned the ignition. But out of the corner of his eye he watched as she tensed up at his words, before forcing herself to relax. He could tell the exact moment she remembered to reapply her mask of worldly aloofness.
He could see right through it thought. Through to the fear and desperation and excitement and relief and all the other emotions that were running roughshod through her psyche. He could see it all.
“You can stick your bag in the back.” He gestured towards the extended cab behind him as he started up his engine, listening to the familiar roar. “Then buckle up. We've got to be on the road.”
The girl had been kind enough to remain silent while Rudy maneuvered back onto the interstate. Driving his rig was second nature after so many years behind the wheel. But even so, nobody wanted to be distracted while merging onto an on ramp. Even if there was hardly any traffic this late at night.
But they'd been on the interstate for ten minutes now, and the road was straight, level, and clear. A little conversation wouldn't be amiss.
“So, you got a name, girl?” He asked, breaking the silence. His passenger barely hesitated before answering.
“Scarlet.” She replied with a smile.
“Well now, that's a real pretty name for a real pretty girl, Scarlet.”
“Well, thank you.” She turned and gave him what she clearly thought was a sultry smile. But to Rudy, it just looked frightened and desperate.
“So, where do you call home then, Scarlet?”
The young woman just shrugged, turning to start out the windshield.
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere, huh? I've been there. Been to lots of Nowheres over the years.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Funny thing about Nowhere. It's always Somewhere to someone.”
“So, where's your home, mister….?” She trailed off invitingly, clearly trying to change the subject.
“Rudy. You can call me Rudy.” He nodded back towards the rear of his cab. “And my home is right here. I haul it around with me wherever I go.”
“Like a hermit crab? Or a turtle?” She asked with genuine curiosity, turning to look behind her.
She had to squint to see much in the dimly lit interior. She could just make out a little counter top with a sink, what might have been a microwave or a toaster over, and a little nook with a table and bench. The dark rectangle against the wall might have been a small TV, and there was the outline of a door… to a bathroom perhaps? It really was a tiny little apartment, packed into the back of the Peterbilt.
Rudy just chuckled and nodded at her description and curiosity, never taking his eyes off the road. “Well, I suppose so. Though I like to think I'm a lot friendlier than a hermit. And that my home is a bit faster than a turtle. It might not be much, but it's mine.”
“Well, I think you're plenty friendly, and plenty fast. And I really appreciate you giving me a ride.” Her smile was supposed to be warm and sultry, not plastic and fake. But it was far closer to the latter than the former.
“It's no problem. I've spent most of my life out on the open road. It can get a mite lonely sometimes. Can be nice to have some company.” His voice was calm and pleasant, and his eyes remained firmly on the road.
“I'm sure it can.” She tried to purr. It was clear that events weren't progressing quite the way she had expected. Rudy doubted that she wanted him leering at and ogling over her the entire drive. But she likely expected him to be doing so.
He'd have bet that she was also hoping that he hadn't noticed when started to move one of her hands to rest on his thigh. Or the way her trembling limb stopped in indecision halfway through the motion, before returning to her lap.
But notice it he did.
The conversation lulled then, both of them staring at the road before them, watching each yellow lines appear in the headlights, blur past, and disappear in the rear-view mirror.
Finally, Rudy broke the silence, his voice light and conversational.
“So, what're you running from?” He asked. Scarlet just blinked at him in surprise.
“Wha.. I'm not running from anything!” She insisted.
“Come on now girl.” Rudy chuckled. “I was born on a Tuesday, but it wasn't last Tuesday. This isn't my first rodeo, and I can tell when someone is on the run.” He didn't sound worried, or angry, or judgmental. Just… friendly, and perhaps a little curious.
“I… I told you! I'm not a runaway!” Her voice was indignant, but her hands were shaking on the armrests as she seemed to sink into the bucket seat.
“Drugs, maybe?” He asked, her words unheeded. “I didn't see any track marks on your arms though. And you've got too many teeth to be doing that Meth crap. Pills then? Perscription stuff...”
“I'm not a druggie!” She interrupted, her indignation seeming more sincere this time.
Rudy accepted that with a nod before continuing on.
“Not drugs then. Hmmmm.. Boyfriend trouble maybe? You get in a family way, and you're heading out of town to keep it a secret? Or get it taken care of?” He said it so… blandly. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. Scarlet, on the other hand, blanched and sputtered.
“I'm not pregnant!” She rose back up in her seat and glared at him, her cheeks turning red at the notion.
“Hmmmmm.. Family trouble then? Mommy and Daddy didn't getcha that pony you always wanted, so now you're going to show 'em? Go out in the big old world on your own, and do all those things they told you not to?”
“…..” Scarlet settled back into her chair, eyes riveted to the windshield in front of her. “Sure, let's go with that one.” Her words were cold and bitter.
“Definitely family trouble then.” He scratched his chin with one hand, the other steady on the wheel. “So, was it your mother or your father that...”
“Stepfather.” She cut him off angrily. Rudy just raised an eyebrow, never taking his eyes off the road.
“Stepfather?”
“Stepfather.” She crossed her arms, clearly considering that to be the end of the conversation.
“Care to elaborate? Or should I just go back to guessing?”
Silence reigned in the cab for a few minutes. The only sounds were those of the engine and the road. Miles and minutes were eaten up one mile marker at a time as they both stared forward. Rudy waiting calmly and patiently, Scarlet sitting sullen and angry.
He was mentally giving her five more minutes before he began guessing again, when she broke the silence.
“My step dad likes to drink.” She growled out. Then she barked out a bitter laugh. “He drinks almost as much as mom does.”
Silenced reigned for a few more moments, and Rudy let it.
“It wasn't always so bad. But as I've grown up… He's started to get.. grabby, when he's drunk.” Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but it wasn't the road she was seeing. “And lately, the way he's been looking at me, even when he is sober….” She shook her head violently.
“I ain't going back. I'm eighteen. Ain't nobody can tell me what to do, or where to live!” She growled, her voice filled with anger and determination… Even as she curled up in her seat, her arms wrapped around her legs.
After a few tense moments, she turned to glare at him. “Happy now?” She demanded.
“Yeah, a bit.” He agreed, nodding slightly. For some reason his answer didn't seem to please her. He gave her a few minutes to cool down before speaking again.
“Why don't you go ahead and slip into the back. The bench and table fold down into a bed.” He suggested.
Scarlet paled at the suggestion, looking from him to the sleeper behind the cab, and then back to him again. Clearly she had forgotten the details of her current situation. And suddenly the nature of her… arrangement… was coming back to her.
Rudy just laughed at the expression on her face.
“God, girl, relax.” He chuckled. “I don't know how fancy you think this rig is, but let me tell you, cruise control ain't no autopilot. I'm going to be at the wheel for hours yet, and you look like you ain't slept in ages. You may as well catch some shuteye and get your energy back while you've got the chance.”
“Y… Yeah. Right. Of course.” She swallowed hard, clearly struggling to regain her equilibrium. Her expression shifted and wavered as she tried to decide if she should return to acting like an experienced, sultry 'working girl.'
In the end, she went with just being herself. A nervous young woman, out of her depth. With a quick nod, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid into the sleeper compartment of the cab.
Rudy listened carefully to the noise of the bed being unfolded. The sound of sheets rustling was inaudible over the roar of the engine. The sleeper was hardly what one would call 'quiet' while the truck was on the road. But the rumble of the engine could be its own lullaby.
And more importantly, it made it impossible to hear what was going on in the cab.
Rudy waited an hour, just to be sure his guest was really and truly asleep. Then he reached for the touchscreen on his dashboard, once again giving thanks to the wonders of modern technology. Cell phones and Bluetooth were so much more convenient than CB radios.
When he re-entered the truck, Rudy was surprised to find Scarlet still asleep. She must have been more tired than he had thought. He'd expected her to wake up as soon as he turned off the engine, let alone when he opened and closed the cab door.
Apparently four hours of beauty rest hadn't been enough for her.
“Scarlet?” He spoke softly, gently shaking her. “It's time to get up. You've got things to do.”
“Wha? Scarlet? Who?” Came the sleepy, muffled reply. The young woman blinked up at him in confusion, then gasped and sat up in surprise at finding a stranger hanging over her.
He could practically read her thoughts as they crossed her face. Surprise and fear. 'Where am I, who is he.' Then remembrance and recollection. Her body and posture relaxed slightly as she glanced around. And then, finally, realization of her situation, and what was 'expected' of her.
He'd seen it all plenty of times over the years.
He didn't give her time to decide to don the mask of an experienced lady of the evening. Or to get cold feet. Instead he just stepped back and beckoned her forward.
“Grab your bag and come on. We're here, and time's a wasting.” He coaxed.
Befuddled, frightened, and resigned, Scarlet followed him out of the cab.
And stepped out onto a massive, well lit parking lot. At least half of which was filled with big rigs and 18-wheelers. With more coming and going every moment.
Rudy didn't say a word while his guest glanced around in surprise and a bit of awe. He just gestured for her to follow and set off for the mass of buildings that stuck up like an island in a sea of asphalt.
Scarlet followed along like a baby duckling waddling after it's mother.
Rudy slowed to a halt as they reached the main doors of the truck stop, nodding at the matronly older woman standing by the double doors.
“Margaret.” Rudy said as tilted his head.
“Rudy.” Came the curt, business-like reply. Then the woman's attention turned to the young woman.
“And this must be the latest sparrow with a broken wing you've brought for me to patch up?” She grumbled. Rudy just nodded, unconcerned by her gruff demeanor.
“This is 'Scarlet.'” He gestured, a small smile on his face. Margaret just groaned.
“The lord save me from soft hearted fools.” She groused. “But I suppose even He can't save me from myself.”
“Alright girl.” She growled. “I've got thirty rooms in this place, and over two hundreds truckers passing through every day. All in need of food, drink, a hot shower, and a good shave. If you can do dishes, wash clothes, cook worth a damn, or serve a dozen rowdy truckers without murdering anyone, you've got room and board and minimum wage to start with. You can't do any of that, and you're out on your rear, no matter what damned fool hauled you into my truck stop. We clear?”
All of this was very much not clear to Scarlet.
“What? Who? But, I'm not a… Who are.. What are you two… Just.. WHAT?” She stuttered, looking back and forth between Rudy and Margaret as if following a demented tennis match.
“A job girl.” Margaret snorted. “I'm offering you a job, and a place to stay. If you can hack it.” She crossed her arms, glowering slightly.
“But… But I'm… I'm not...” She looked at Rudy desperately.
“Girl, I don't know who or what you are. But I know what you're not. And that's a hooker.”
“How do you know that?” She demanded, frowning indignantly at him. Rudy just chuckled.
“Girl, you were trembling like a baby deer the moment I set eyes on you. You flinched if I so much as touched you. And you did things and took chances no sane working girl would.” As he spoke, Scarlet's head sunk lower and lower, until she was staring at the ground.
“Look, maybe you actually are eighteen. And if so, you're right. Nobody can tell you where or how to live. If that's the life you want to live, well, so be it.” He shrugged concernedly. “They call it the oldest profession for a reason. And hell, plenty of working girls pass through here, much as Margaret here might frown at 'em.” He smirked at the older woman's glare.
“If nothing else, you can learn a few things from 'em that might keep you from getting your fool self killed. But if you want to try a different path, well...” He nodded towards Margaret once more. “There you go.”
Scarlet looked between the two of them, trying to grasp the situation she found herself in. Licking her lips nervously, she turned to Rudy and his laid back expression, then to the stern look on Margaret's face. Finally, she nodded.
“I… I'll take the job...” She said softly, looking down at the ground. Margaret just nodded as if it had been a foregone conclusion.
“Alright then girl. Let's get you cleaned up and then get you to work. First we'll see if you're any good at cooking, then...”
Rudy tuned out the conversation as he turned and began to walk away. He'd barely registered the sound of boots on pavement before a pair of hands grabbed one of his, pulling him to a halt.
“Yeah?” He asked, turning to look down at Scarlet. She tugged on his hand, forcing him to bend down a bit.
“My real name is Judy.” She said. “And… Thank you.” Leaning up, she planted a kiss on his cheek, before turning and hurrying back towards the truck stop.
Rudy just smiled and rubbed his beard before shaking his head and turning back to his semi. He had a load of electronics to deliver, and this little detour had put him a half hour behind schedule. Still, it had been worth it, and he was sure he could make up the time if he was willing to put the pedal down. And he would, because there were people waiting for what he was hauling.
And that was the way he liked it. Because that's what being a long haul trucker meant to Rudy. It meant that he helped people, by bringing them the things they needed, when they needed them.
And sometimes, just sometimes, he got a chance to bring people to the places they needed to be, when they needed to be there.
Rudy smiled as he pulled the door to his cab open and slipped into the driver's seat. He ran his hand over the steering wheel before giving it a gentle pat.
“Well baby, I'm home. Now let's see what the road holds for us today.”
The engine purred in agreement as he turned the ignition.
I felt as though I watched an eighties feel-good movie. And not just because truckers.
This was a really, really nice character-driven piece, pun only partially intended. I loved the little quirks that gave us glimpses into Rudy and Scarlet's personalities, a lot was said with those little details. I don't have much to complain about, perhaps maybe that I wanted more.
Conversely, I'd like to read more of Rudy's Rig Runs, meeting new people and helping them in their lives.
Ride on, Rudy, you angel with chromed wings.
This was a really, really nice character-driven piece, pun only partially intended. I loved the little quirks that gave us glimpses into Rudy and Scarlet's personalities, a lot was said with those little details. I don't have much to complain about, perhaps maybe that I wanted more.
Conversely, I'd like to read more of Rudy's Rig Runs, meeting new people and helping them in their lives.
Ride on, Rudy, you angel with chromed wings.
This is well structured and sweet, with the good character work and a solid plot.
If I had one misgiving, I'd say that it's really very 'safe'; it doesn't push much past 'warm and fluffy feelings'. It's satisfying and enjoyable, but not compelling?
Still, it's excellent craftsmanship, and it's fun for what it is, even if it's not the deepest thing I've read this round. I really don't see much to ding it for, even if I don't see anything pushing into 'excellent' territory either.
If I had one misgiving, I'd say that it's really very 'safe'; it doesn't push much past 'warm and fluffy feelings'. It's satisfying and enjoyable, but not compelling?
Still, it's excellent craftsmanship, and it's fun for what it is, even if it's not the deepest thing I've read this round. I really don't see much to ding it for, even if I don't see anything pushing into 'excellent' territory either.
You do a great job of making the prose as inconspicuous as it is effective. The piece reads easily and effortlessly, while deftly avoiding telly-ness. Pacing feels natural and well-rounded as well.
My biggest issue about this story is that there's very little actual content, here. I mean, it sets itself up as a character piece, but we don't really learn much about either Rudy or Scarlett. Rudy's a good guy who does good things, but we don't learn why. Scarlett is a scared girl who craves independence, but we don't know why. You give us some very basic character archetypes without actually putting on very much meat on the bones.
And in the end, the events of the story just kinda happen. There's no real conflict, which makes the resolution feel a bit empty. In the end, there just wasn't that much emotional impact for me.
My biggest issue about this story is that there's very little actual content, here. I mean, it sets itself up as a character piece, but we don't really learn much about either Rudy or Scarlett. Rudy's a good guy who does good things, but we don't learn why. Scarlett is a scared girl who craves independence, but we don't know why. You give us some very basic character archetypes without actually putting on very much meat on the bones.
And in the end, the events of the story just kinda happen. There's no real conflict, which makes the resolution feel a bit empty. In the end, there just wasn't that much emotional impact for me.
Hm, a story of a lost blond girl lost in life being picked up by a more authoritative figure that helps her figure out her place in life. I feel I have read this story before...
At the price of having this comment thread be echo-chamber of the same opinion, I found that the relatively contained conflict and resolution of this story was more a hindrance, not because of the plot itself, but because of how it is executed. A small scale story like this doesn't have to overtly dramatic—it's very obviously a slice of life in sort of more optimistic interpretation of realism—but there does have to be a bit more stakes involved in the narrative and there does need to be a bit more room for these characters to emote if this primarily aimed at being a character piece. As Bachiavellian rightly puts, Rudy and Scarlet are more archetypes of the person they are supposed to represent in the narrative rather than legitimate characters in their own right.
Rudy's got a bit more going than Scarlet with his sort of salt-of-the-earth persona, but never Rudy or Scarlet are really challenged by each other or given reason to expose anything more than surface level details to one another. Both are in a relatively challenging position, or at least Scarlet is, but there is really no suspense in the narrative suggesting that whatever Rudy has in mind won't work out. When Zaid said that this feels like an 80s feelgood movie, I think he was right, and that comes with the negatives and problems associated with that kind of genre as well.
A minor critique I feel the need to levy is that Rudy, although certainly experienced and wise in his rustic ways, occasionally feels far too reaching in his ability to accurately discern other people's situations to a pinpoint accuracy that makes it seem he read ahead in the story rather than ascertaining this information organically.
Overall scene construction is good, prose while not standout, reads easy and doesn't intrude on the reader, and narrative voice is strong. Obviously you're experienced.
Verdict: Slice of life that is perhaps a bit too fluffy and predestined towards being a feelgood story, solid overall construction, one or two tension-adding scenes would highly elevate this.
At the price of having this comment thread be echo-chamber of the same opinion, I found that the relatively contained conflict and resolution of this story was more a hindrance, not because of the plot itself, but because of how it is executed. A small scale story like this doesn't have to overtly dramatic—it's very obviously a slice of life in sort of more optimistic interpretation of realism—but there does have to be a bit more stakes involved in the narrative and there does need to be a bit more room for these characters to emote if this primarily aimed at being a character piece. As Bachiavellian rightly puts, Rudy and Scarlet are more archetypes of the person they are supposed to represent in the narrative rather than legitimate characters in their own right.
Rudy's got a bit more going than Scarlet with his sort of salt-of-the-earth persona, but never Rudy or Scarlet are really challenged by each other or given reason to expose anything more than surface level details to one another. Both are in a relatively challenging position, or at least Scarlet is, but there is really no suspense in the narrative suggesting that whatever Rudy has in mind won't work out. When Zaid said that this feels like an 80s feelgood movie, I think he was right, and that comes with the negatives and problems associated with that kind of genre as well.
A minor critique I feel the need to levy is that Rudy, although certainly experienced and wise in his rustic ways, occasionally feels far too reaching in his ability to accurately discern other people's situations to a pinpoint accuracy that makes it seem he read ahead in the story rather than ascertaining this information organically.
Overall scene construction is good, prose while not standout, reads easy and doesn't intrude on the reader, and narrative voice is strong. Obviously you're experienced.
Verdict: Slice of life that is perhaps a bit too fluffy and predestined towards being a feelgood story, solid overall construction, one or two tension-adding scenes would highly elevate this.
Long Haul
That's an interesting intro. One the one hand, it packs a lot of good information into a small space, and does a lot with implication. On the other, the prose itself is painfully slapdash. We jump from “the moment he spotted her” to “He'd noticed her the moment” In the space of a single sentence. We get a sore thumb cliché soon after, coupled with a jarring repetition from “stodd out” to “standing”.
I'm honestly not sure whether to have high expectations or not. Well, let's see.
Okay, finished.
Well, the prose issue never really lets up. A lot of the phrasing is awkward to downright jarring, and redundancies pop up often.
But once we look past to the scene portrayed, things get a lot better. The first three quarters are a masterclass in how to effectively dial up the tension. The story relies on the opacity of Rudy's and his passenger's motives, which is a difficult trick to pull off. Here it's done without ever feeling forced. Power, danger and sex loom over the scene without ever ruining it by revealing themselves.
But the ending, while not bad, dampens my enthusiasm somewhat. It's a little too twee and cutesy for my taste. Still, I can get behind the main theme here – appearances can be deceptive – even if it a well-worn one.
That's an interesting intro. One the one hand, it packs a lot of good information into a small space, and does a lot with implication. On the other, the prose itself is painfully slapdash. We jump from “the moment he spotted her” to “He'd noticed her the moment” In the space of a single sentence. We get a sore thumb cliché soon after, coupled with a jarring repetition from “stodd out” to “standing”.
I'm honestly not sure whether to have high expectations or not. Well, let's see.
Okay, finished.
Well, the prose issue never really lets up. A lot of the phrasing is awkward to downright jarring, and redundancies pop up often.
But once we look past to the scene portrayed, things get a lot better. The first three quarters are a masterclass in how to effectively dial up the tension. The story relies on the opacity of Rudy's and his passenger's motives, which is a difficult trick to pull off. Here it's done without ever feeling forced. Power, danger and sex loom over the scene without ever ruining it by revealing themselves.
But the ending, while not bad, dampens my enthusiasm somewhat. It's a little too twee and cutesy for my taste. Still, I can get behind the main theme here – appearances can be deceptive – even if it a well-worn one.
It's pretty clear early on that Rudy isn't just a random John. He's too morally self-aware of what's going on:
and
But what else could he be? The two answers that leap to mind are "psychopath" or "do-gooder in disguise." Secretly, I'm hoping for the former. That's a lot more interesting.
The story's development is nice. Some elements seem rather pat -- what if the girl actually had a drug problem? But these are avoided by the deft step of simply not giving the girl a drug problem.
The climax is long. Really long. Like, a third of the story is Rudy dropping the poor little broken bird off at her new home and rhapsodizing about what a nice person he is. I think this could be a lot shorter and still be effective.
Also, called it: do-gooder. Kinda wish he'd been a psychopath, though.
She shrugged noncommittally. “Anyplace but here I suppose.” She kept her voice even and unconcerned, but Rudy doubted that the slight shivering he saw was from the cold.
and
It was clearly a struggle for her to not back away, but she stood her ground. But even with his light grip, Rudy could feel her trembling under his fingers. Feel how tense, how tightly wound she was.
But what else could he be? The two answers that leap to mind are "psychopath" or "do-gooder in disguise." Secretly, I'm hoping for the former. That's a lot more interesting.
The story's development is nice. Some elements seem rather pat -- what if the girl actually had a drug problem? But these are avoided by the deft step of simply not giving the girl a drug problem.
The climax is long. Really long. Like, a third of the story is Rudy dropping the poor little broken bird off at her new home and rhapsodizing about what a nice person he is. I think this could be a lot shorter and still be effective.
Also, called it: do-gooder. Kinda wish he'd been a psychopath, though.