The Hardest Thing

about his lack of experience, he certainly seemed to be on a steep learning curve. This was a textbook seduction.
    “You know what I always wanted to do?” said Kenny, now openly rubbing his dick.
    “ Uh…no. ”
    “Make out on the hood of a car.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah.” Kenny lay back. “Really.”
    You’d have to be made of stone, or that mythical one-hundred-percent-hetero-he-man, to resist such an invitation. Pete was neither.
    “Jesus,” whispered Jody beside me. “They’re going to…” I silenced him with a look, but I didn’t move his hand when he started stroking my leg.
    Pete stood between the headlights, between Kenny’s open thighs, and leaned forward. Their mouths met, and all I could see was the cop’s broad back in its damp black cotton covering undulating as he pressed himself into Kenny.
    Tempting as it was to stay and watch the show—or
join in—we had just been given an escape route. The eyes of the law were turning north, and if we could slip out to the west, avoiding the town, we had a chance. I tapped Jody on the shoulder—he was practically salivating at the sight of Pete’s muscular ass in its black uniform pants—and we ran swift and silent away from the car. The pine needles cushioned our footfalls, and in less than a minute we were out of earshot. I had a momentary pang of jealousy as I thought of Pete the Cop getting Kenny’s furry cherry—and then I saw the truck. A dark blue, beat-up pickup pulled up at the end of the pathway, its nose turned toward the forest road. The windows were down and the key was in the ignition.
    Was this Kenny’s thank-you present?
    I didn’t have time to think. We got in, I started her up and we drove.
    “You’re stealing his truck?”
    “Sure. Why not?”
    “Because he’ll report it. Every cop in the county will be looking for the plates.”
    I had a pretty strong hunch that Kenny wouldn’t do anything of the sort, but I didn’t explain that to Jody. “You got a better idea?”
    He folded his arms and stared out the window as we reached the highway. He seemed cross. Delayed shock, maybe—or just another of his now-familiar bad moods. There was a radio in the truck, so I tuned into a country and western station and drove on toward the state line.

    So what’s the plan, Dan?
    I don’t like drifting. I like objectives and route maps.
As we drove west I had only the vaguest idea of getting to Lake Ontario as fast as possible then onward to Buffalo, Cleveland, Chicago and points west. We could pretty much stick a pin in the map. I kind of favored Wyoming or Montana myself, but that’s probably because I liked the idea of fucking Jody in the Rockies, making him grow a beard and living like a couple of mountain men. If we didn’t have half the cops in the eastern U.S. hunting for us, I might have suggested it. Unfortunately there was that small matter of the assassination attempt in the Starlight Motel, and the growing certainty that I’d been set up as a sacrificial scapegoat by a bunch of unsavory New York scumbags. The only idea I could really concentrate on was payback.
    We’d had one lucky break—a horny teenager with a sentimental streak and access to a fleet of old vehicles, who thought that helping a couple of romantic outlaws, one of whom had just fucked his face, justified hampering a police investigation. There are benefits to having a big dick sometimes. It’s a shortcut to getting guys like Kenny to fall in love with you. I’d prefer to be loved for my beautiful personality, but when you’ve only got ten minutes and the cops are at your back, a couple of extra inches does the job quicker.
    Now we needed to get somewhere safe. Then, maybe, I’d talk to the police, tell my side of the story and see what they made of it. If the guy in the Starlight Motel had survived that blow to the head with a smart-phone, we might be able to do this the right way. If I’d killed him, I’d have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t like the idea of being sent to prison pending investigations. I kind of like my liberty. Isn’t that what
I spent twelve years of my life fighting for—liberty? Damned if I was going to place it into the hands of cops and lawyers.
    Yeah, I was feeling pretty brave as we drove west. Those violins were soaring again, an aerial shot showed the old blue pickup speeding bravely down the road, when all the odds are against him, one man takes a stand against injustice…
    “I need a