Page 17 of Great White
“We’re on a road trip,” I announce gleefully. “We’re gonna see Wichita Falls, The Holy City of Wichita, and then Oklahoma City. We’re super excited.”
Officer Jimenez nods. “And where are you coming from?”
“El Paso,” I reply innocently. “I grew up in San Antonio. Then my parents moved to El Paso my senior year in high school because my father’s company moved. It was really hard at first, but I met this guy a few months later and have been in love ever since.” I make googly-love eyes at Tate.
“I’m a lucky man,” Tate adds. “My bladder, not so much at the moment.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Officer Jimenez seems to assess the two of us as he stands by the window of the car. It’s the most nerve-racking minute of my life.
“When you’re in Oklahoma City, check out HunnyBunny Biscuit company. You won’t be disappointed.”
I fight my lips from twitching. Hearing this tall, broad, intimidating man say HunnyBunny is enough to do me in.
“I will, sir,” I respond brightly. Pseudo-excited for his recommendation.
The officer hands Tate back his documents. “I suggest you pull into the next gas station you see.” It’s not a suggestion.
“Will do, sir.” Tate gladly accepts his license and insurance card.
“Ma’am.” He tips his head to me. I graciously return the gesture.
Tate has the car in drive before Officer Jimenez even opens the door to his cruiser.
I release my life’s grandest sigh of relief. And once the cop is out of view, I square off and punch Tate in the arm. “Asshole.”
“Fuck, Dove.” He swerves off the road and then back again.
“You fucking idiot. Do you think this is a game?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why do you act like such a fucking moron? I should have just killed you in the woods. At this rate, I’ll either be in jail, or dead, with you walking around.”
“I would never let either of those things happen to you.” He’s deadly serious. The first time ever.
“If that cop uncovered us, what were you going to do? Shoot him?”
“If I had to.”
“No. That’s not how we work. We don't draw attention. We fly under the radar. That was Stefania’s parents’ problem. They showed their feathers like arrogant peacocks, and it’s what got them killed. We will not make the same mistake. Understand? If you have a problem with that, we can part ways right now.”
Tate yanks the wheel, and the truck makes a hard right into a gas station.
When he gets out of the car, he regards me with a stern, flinty look. His big, black eyes catching the gold reflection of the sunset off the chrome accents of the truck. “I got ya.” He slams the door shut and stomps off in the direction of the bathrooms. I bang my head against the headrest, silently thanking Stefania and her foresight. And also Pepo for his lightning-quick, fake-document-making abilities. At least if the cop had run Tate’s license, the record would have come up clean. All T’s crossed and all I’s dotted with the motor vehicle when making runs.
Tate and I arrive at the motel stone silent with a river of animosity running between us. He knows he fucked up, and I sure as hell am not going to let him forget it.
The motel is by no means five star, but it’s clean as far as I can see, and we can park the truck right outside the door to keep an eye on it. If it were up to me, we would have camped out in it.
At the desk, a young girl no more than eighteen with a wide, gap-toothed smile and hair so black it has hints of blue greets us. I keep my eye on the truck outside at all costs. I don't listen to much of the exchange between Tate and the receptionist until I hear, “I changed your sleeping arrangements.”
My head whips around. “Excuse me?”
“Yes.” She smiles brightly. “You two had double beds. I put you in a king room. Right on a corner. Nice and private.” She winks.
“Ah, no—”
“Yes, thank you.” Tate puts an arm around me and pulls me a little too hard into his side. “We do appreciate that. Right, darlin’? You were just sayin’ how upset you were that we were gonna have to squeeze into a smaller bed. She’s a kicker,” he whispers to the girls as he spins me around and makes for the door.
