EPOV

Crossroads

"You know what, Tanya? Fuck you! I'm out of here!"

I'm tired of her shit in general, but this is the breaking point, catching her now in what used to be our bed, fucking I don't even know who. Yeah, this ends now.

I was home to celebrate. My crew finished my most recent job bid two weeks ahead of schedule. My leadership and their efforts earned me some serious "cred" within the construction community and gave me a substantial financial incentive I was able to pass on to my guys who busted their asses for me. I gave them all a hefty under-the-table bonus, in addition to an extra week's pay. So now, all of us have a two-week break until our next job starts. And after this bullshit she's pulled, I can't get away from here fast enough.

I hurriedly pack as much of my stuff as I can just to get the hell out of here before I wail on something. I would never hit a girl, but I can't say I'm not tempted to right now. As for the guy she's with, I just may extend my hand to him in gratitude for ridding me of her.

As I zip through the small house I've specifically rented to complete this job, I realize there isn't much here I care about. I rented it because I didn't want to deal with the daily, city traffic cutting into my workday. Since the house is no longer needed, I'll let the landlord know that I won't be coming back and that Tanya will be the only one here. The rent is paid-up for the next two months for Tanya to take advantage of. There isn't any furniture to worry about because the place came furnished. As for my own house she shared with me in the city, I'll just tell her to move herself out and leave the key in an envelope in my post office box. Thank God, not only did I not entertain the idea of marrying her but I was also smart enough to always use condoms whenever we had sex. Who knows how many other guys she was doing When she was with me?

She claimed I wasn't there enough, and to be honest, she's probably right. I have no reason to question my virility or my technique, seeing as though I got her off most of the time. The problem is that's all she wanted to do. And in the beginning, I was really sucked into her succubus ways. I know most guys would trade their left nut just to have a hot nympho blonde for a girlfriend. That's not me, though, and don't get me wrong. I love sex as much as the next guy, but I love life more. She never wanted to go anywhere and never wanted to do anything. I know there are millions of naysayers out there, but contrary to popular belief, man cannot live by good sex alone. At least, I know I can't. The way I figure it is if I really wanted to be there in the first place, I would have made more of an effort. We had a relationship of convenience that should never have started in the first place. I'm actually relieved this is over, but I'm not going to tell her that. She doesn't deserve that satisfaction for being sleazy. She could have just told me things weren't working out.

I grabbed my guitar, Macbook, laptop, PC, chargers, hard copy files, fire safe, and clothes. I, also, cleaned out my half of the medicine cabinet and took my weights. I really wanted my pillow—because it's hard finding the right one and breaking it in—but decided against the idea, seeing as though it would be tainted by some other guy's funk on it now.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do after I drop my shit off at my house, but I think I'll just head south then west and see where the road takes me. I, thankfully, don't have anything holding me back for the next two weeks, so the road is mine.

I shoot texts to Jasper and Emmett, my best buds and crew foremen, letting them know about the shit that has just gone down. I tell them I'm okay and am moving a few things back to my house in the city before I head out to take in a change of scenery. The guys offer their help, of course, which I decline and their encouraging words, which I accept. I couldn't ask for better friends.

Once I'm finished unloading at my place, I grab some extra cash before leaving the city. The mall is on the way, so I grab some travel food, a road atlas—because GPS fucks up sometimes, so it's better to be safe than sorry—a new pillow, and a few other items before heading out.

I decided that I should head south on 55 from Chicago through Springfield, Missouri to St. Louis. Maybe I can get to enjoy some of the food and music. I think I'll head further down to Memphis, too. Maybe on the way back, I can check out Nashville, too. Even though I'm not a big country music fan, I think it's just something I'd want to experience once in my life. From Memphis, I'll head west on 40 and pick up 30 to check out Texas, as believe it, or not, I've never been.

I note that the further I get away from the city, the friendlier people are. I know I'm definitely, not in Chicago where you can't even park for a minute without either getting a parking ticket or having a "boot" immobilizer slapped on your tire. Your experience also wouldn't be complete without it being accompanied by someone's foul attitude and crude hand gestures, as well.

I've driven about three hundred miles and am almost to St. Louis. I see a stranded early 1970's red Ford F-150 pick-up truck that has slid down an embankment with what appears to be a family packed into the front seat. The first thing I do is put my flashers on and climb down the hill they're on to determine if it's safe. I assess it is, so I make my way over to the driver's window to make sure everyone's all right. I tread back up to my truck to get some of my water and protein bars to share with them as well, seeing as though they've been there for a few hours and are starting to look dehydrated and are probably hungry. I introduce myself and ask the father, whose name is Garrett, if anyone's gone for help. And he says he's not sure, so I take that as a no. Garrett said he stayed with the truck because he wasn't sure if he could get his family out safely without the vehicle shifting. I ask Garrett if I can try to pull him up since my truck has been fitted with a power winch and can probably handle the job. He looks at me as if I have three heads and have asked for his firstborn son in return for the help. I assure him that I am just passing through and am offering my services because I can and because it's the right thing to do. People, in my part of the country, are so cynical and guarded over any exchange of goodwill. It's a shame that someone always has to assume there's a handout that's going to be involved for the exchange of a favor.

I help Garrett's wife, Irene, and their children Katie and Eliezer up the embankment to safety, and have them sit in my truck, an air-conditioned diesel Ford F-550, which I'm sure appears as though it's a Rolls Royce when compared to theirs. I tell Garrett to stay in his truck until I can secure the cable for the winch. Once I have the rigging in place, I have him put the truck in neutral so I can pull it up. The winch works just as I had envisioned it would. Garrett's Ford is back at the top of the roadbed and onto the highway in no time. He can't thank me enough and gives me a firm handshake and a big toothless grin. I also earn a hug from Irene and a dinner invitation for a home-cooked meal, should I ever pass through here again. She also makes sure to give me their phone number, too and tells me not to be bashful about the invite. I give both of the kids a handful of my Blow-pops and pat them on their heads. I also insist on following their truck into town, making sure there's no damage to the undercarriage or frame. Once I know they are okay, I toot my horn and wave, feeling great about my good deed for the day.

I make my way into the city and note that it's Jazz Festival time. I can smell the barbecued meats cooking in the street as the city begins to enliven with music, too. People are clapping and stomping while singing to the songs. There are happy faces everywhere. I think I will definitely be staying here for a day or two. Yeah, a change of scenery, every now and then, can definitely do a person good.

A/N:

(Please accept my apologies; this chapter is not beta'd.)

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