Back down to the parking lot, you see Turk's tooling around in a beautiful blue '66 Ford, these days. You'd expected to find he'd roadtripped in with a run-down Escort, not a cherry convertible like this.
"That's a 427 under there, 7-litre!" Turk promises, once you've taken shotgun and Missy's slid into the back seat. "If these brats of yours want a race, we'll blow their doors right off!"
Before you can tell him that, to your knowledge, none of the kids drives, Turk's bursting into tears over a song that starts with the car. Missy leans over the seats to grab for the iAudio propped on the dash, but Turk holds the player out of reach and keeps weeping.
"He's been on about this song since Canton!" Missy complains, scowling at Turk. "'I'll drive so far away! I'll drive so far away!'"
As Missy mockingly sings along, Turk keeps cranking the volume until she has to scream to be heard. Meanwhile, you're doing your best to tickle her under the arms, which she ignores in favor of expressing her frustration with Turk's playlist.
Fortunately, no one is in the ampm parking lot as you roll in. Turk cuts both the engine and waterworks as he pulls out his wallet. When the credit card holder flops down, you glimpse a parade of very shiny cards. Casey's General Store. Sheetz. White Hen. Couche-Tard. Aha! ARCO. You've never seen such beautifully designed credit cards before. They're more like jewelry than plastic.
"We can get as much as we want of anything in the place," Turk promises. "I've never hit a limit on any of these, and I'm never charged. My cut from that really big job I was in on with those governors' daughters. Getting popped for the family business was just bad luck!"
"Yes, we can travel the entire continent and never want for anything," says Missy, "as long as it's available at a convenience store. That we have a card for."
She wants to seem scornful, but you can tell she thinks it's a fine setup. Even you can see the advantages.
Back out in the car, you can see Missy bought many sensible things. You and Turk were less discriminating. The trunk is full. The back seat is full. Missy is entombed by fridge pack sodas and bags of Smartfood popcorn.
"So Sofia's the fighter, and Mathew's the tinkerer?" Missy asks. "I'd prefer trying the boy first."
"You might easily woo him," you tell her, which idea you find amusing. She frowns at you.
"Between the two of us, Bubba, we should be able to beat up a girl," Turk says, having given it some thought. "Really, Missy's the muscle on most of these capers. But I don't mind helping with the abduction part."
"Perhaps Mathew could be enticed to admire the engine in this vehicle," you suggest. "Eight cylinders, all yours."
"I won't have him touching the idle!" Turk says hastily, defensive.
"How well do you think Sofia handles going to the ground?" Missy asks. She's thinking out loud. "My clinch work's rusty, but maybe..."
"Let's go take a look at their place," Turk suggests. "See if we get any brainstorms."
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author