Naked Love(26)

When the St. Louis arch comes into sight, he pulls off the main road, takes a few dizzying lefts and rights before pulling into a gas station. My bladder cheers while my dignity wipes sweat from its brow.

I jump out, waddling into the building as quickly as I can without springing a leak.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let your dog out.”

I don’t have enough bladder control to acknowledge Jake. Maybe he can read my mind. Yes, Jake, let Swarley out, and I won’t piss all over your truck. Fair trade? I think so too.

“Ladies’ room?” I flash the cashier a tight smile.

“Unisex restroom. Just one. Side of the building.”

Gah! Side of the building. We’re in a major city. The restrooms should be inside the building. I make a U-turn.

“Ma’am, you’ll need the key.” He holds up a key attached to a chain—attached to an old steering wheel. It looks like something from a vintage car or maybe even a tractor. It’s huge.

I grab the steering wheel and drive myself to the side of the building. Jake glances up from the grassy area by the street where Swarley sniffs for the perfect spot to mark. Jake rubs his hand over his mouth.

Go ahead, Jake the Jerk, laugh all you want. I don’t care. Nothing in the world matters at this moment as much as the emptying of my bladder.

No toilet seat liner.

No place to hang my purse or the steering wheel.

Screw it.

I slide my purse strap around my neck, do the same with the steering wheel, shimmy out of my denim shorts, and plop down on the germ-infested toilet seat.

“Oh … my …. god …” I whisper, closing my eyes. This feels better than my last orgasm.

After peeing out an entire swimming pool, I reach for the toilet paper.

None. Why doesn’t that surprise me?

I don’t have a single tissue in my purse, so I’m forced to shake and go.

Wash my hands.

Shake them dry as well because … yep, no paper towels or a hand dryer.

Opening the door with my shirt protecting my hand, I let it close behind me. Then I work the steering wheel back over my head to lock the door.

But …

“Dammit!” It catches on my purse strap so I twist it free, trying not to damage the strap.

Left. Right. Up. Down.

I work it in every direction, tipping my chin up, tucking it down, working the steering wheel and my head every which way.

“Ugh!” I cringe as it pulls at my hair. Can’t have that. It just slipped over my head. Why won’t it come off?

“Don’t lock it. I need to take a piss. Swarley’s back in the truck. You’re welcome. And don’t worry, I paid for the gas.”

I roll my eyes at his agitating voice behind me. “It’s all yours.” Turning, I push back my shoulders, chin up, like I don’t have my purse and a steering wheel hanging from my neck.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Nice bling.”

My lips curl together.

“The cashier said you have the key. Give it to me so I can lock it back up when I’m done.”

Dear Heavenly Father,

I’m sorry. The purity ring I wore in high school was a promise to you that I would keep my virginity. I shouldn’t have used it as a revirginization ring. If I wasn’t supposed to give my body to another until later in life, would it have killed you to delay the onset of puberty? Totally not putting all the blame on you, just thinking aloud. Anyway … if you still love me. Hell—I mean heck—if you ever loved me, could you please let this steering wheel slip off my head as easily as it slipped on? In three … two … one.

Flashing Jake my most confident smile, I put all of my trust in God and ease the steering wheel over my head. Only, it catches on my chin, then my nose, then my ear, threatening to rip out my diamond stud earring.

My gaze lifts to the sky. Unconditional love my ass!

“Avery, the key. Let’s go.” Jake holds out his hand.

“Ugh!” I grip the steering wheel. “Son of a—mother fu—damn this life!”

Jake’s gaze lands on the key dangling from the chain, dangling from my bling. “Do I even want to know?”

I deflate. “Stupid bathroom has no hooks, and I didn’t want to set anything on the ground. And who puts a key on a flipping steering wheel—”

He silences me with a flat palm held up accompanied by a half dozen headshakes. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question. I was seriously asking myself if I wanted to know. The answer is no. I don’t want to know how you ended up with a steering wheel stuck around your neck.”

I’m on a road trip with the Devil. How does this happen to a preacher’s daughter?

“Don’t give me that look like this is all my fault.”

He squints, scratching his newly shaven chin. “Is it not your fault? Dog shit on your foot, a lost sandal, and a steering wheel stuck around your neck all within the span of twenty-four hours. Whose fault might this be?”

“Just …” I frown. “Go do your thing. I’m going to talk to the guy inside.”

Jake chuckles. “Good idea. I’m sure this happens all the time. I bet he’ll abracadabra you right out of there. But would you mind waiting until I get done in here. I’d like to see how he fixes your situation. You know … in case it happens again along the way.”