"In a New York minute...everything can change..."

We didn't "do it." Sorry.

I just drove like a maniac down this deserted road—a deserted road in the desert. Okay, yes that's the weed talking.

But I wasn't so much running away anymore as giving myself time to think a little bit, finally. And I'd chosen the right companion.

I mean, some people get weird about my long silences, but Celie didn't. She laid back and shut her eyes and chilled. In fact, I thought she was asleep at first. And then she opened her eyes and smiled at me and I realized she was just cool with quiet. Or needed some time to think, too.

We got mad hungry, though, pretty soon, thanks to the blunts and the length of time we'd been away from food by then. So I started consciously looking for signs of a bigger highway or a bunch of lights that might mean we'd found a convenience store or something.

We found a little truck stop thing with a Love's in it—do you know Love's? Or TA? They're these truck stop things that were out there before there were big ass malls all over the place where you can stop and shop and have Starbucks and Olive Garden and all.

They're big diners, basically, that still cook liver and onions and meat loaf and all that. I swear to God, I get liver and onions sometimes. Freaks people out, but I love liver and onions if the liver's not like shoe leather and there's a big mound of mashed potatoes and gravy next to it.

But this time I didn't get liver, I got a humungous, handmade hamburger and a chocolate malt. And Celie got meat loaf because it reminded her of her grandmother who was the only stereotypical Black cook she had ever known. I mean, like the ones in all the movies who cook big soul food dinners on Sunday.

She stuffed a huge big hunk of it in her mouth and made this orgasm noise. And I laughed and said, "Dude. Should I leave you alone with that or what?"

She smiled with her mouth still full, and slid her plate toward me and said, without showing me all the meat loaf in it, "Taste it!"

I ate a forkful and went, "Oh my God! That's, like, crack cravable!"

She almost spit out the food in her mouth, laughing.

And said, "She's going to miss you like hell."

"I just don't wanna talk about it right now. I don't want to feel it right now."

"Shut up and eat your crack, then."

I took another bite and then slid the plate back to her. And then I stole one more piece, but she slapped at my hand when I reached my fork over.

I let myself enjoy that last piece. And then I took a pull on the straw in my malt and said, "So are we gonna make this movie for real or what?"

"Oh, honey, we're gonna kill this movie," she said—suddenly really serious and ferocious. "We're going to do it to death so the whole world knows we're here. To stay. Right?"

"I like that answer."

"I'm serious."

"Good. So am I. I don't know shit about making movies that big, but we'll get people who do."

A coupla cops came in. Highway Patrol. The waitresses got them coffee before they even asked and they started a sort of half-hearted conversation about having to work on New Year's Eve. And how busy the cops must be. Tired people, talking. Tired on lots of levels, pro'bly.

"What is it like to be able to say that?" Celie asked me. "I mean, to be able to say, 'I can buy someone who knows what to do.'"

"Fucked up, right? Lincoln's spinning in his grave somewhere. But I grew up in Arizona. We don't take that emancipation business very seriously here."

She laughed again. And said, "It's so amazing to me that you're only 19. I bet you drove your parents crazy, didn't you?"

"I didn't have any."

She went, "Okay," like she thought I was messing with her.

So I said, "I only knew my mother. And she was what you call slow in some circles."

That got her. She gaped and said, "How do you mean, slow?"

"Challenged. About ten years old, tops, intellectually."

"You're lyin' to me now."

"Wish I was," I said.

The two cops left with food in those Styrofoam containers they give you for left overs. And the waitresses went back to just talking to each other about nothing. It was slow for a holiday. But then people were probably out partying instead of driving. Even truck drivers and whatnot.

And the few sad sacks in there with us looked like they'd never partied in their whole lives. Sitting there blank faced, chewing. Staring into their coffee cups. Out of the big window. Nowhere else to go. Nobody waiting.

I started getting depressed just looking at them. So I said, "She was this beautiful blond baby girl her whole life. Which wasn't very long."

"She's gone, then?"

"They're all gone."

"Wait—you don't have any family?"

"Nope. The girls, but..."

She frowned even more and asked, "How does that happen?"

"They blew up. Burnt up. Big explosion. Boom. Gone."

She sort of caved in, like I'd sucked all the air out of her somehow.

And then she said, "I have to ask."

"Meth lab. Her dumb ass boyfriend. The last one. Didn't know what the hell he was doin'. Nothin' but ashes left, after. No bodies. No.nothing recognizable."

She went, "Fuck," and then, "God loves you, son."

"I sorta feel that way sometimes."

"No, seriously. You were left here on earth to right some wrongs. I could tell from day one."

"Maybe."

"You could definitely fix some o' that stuff I told you about, for one thing. In the business. Just because your attitude's on straight."

"Maybe."

She flicked the little rolled up end of a straw at me and I laughed. And a waitress who hadn't taken our order came over and said, "What are y'all two doin' 'way out here in East Hell?"

Celie smiled at her and said, "Eloping."

And the waitress said, "Honey, if that's true you are the luckiest woman on God's green earth tonight."

And she looked at me and said, "I seen you in the papers before, but up close, boy, I mean, you don't even look real. You got one o' them things stamped on your butt says what fac'try you was made in?"

Man, we cracked up like mad behind that one.

And Celie said, "What'd I tell you?"

"Okay, okay, whatever."

The waitress took our check and folded it and put it down her cleavage then. And said, "You made me glad I didn't take New Year's off. I'll git this."

"C'mon! Lemme give you a lil' sum sum," I said.

And she gave me a little touch under the chin and said, "You gimme a thrill! That's more'n' I woulda got even if I'd had the night off, baby. Gon' finish eatin' and lemme git outta your face."

Now, I left her a hundred bucks under my coffee cup even so. I hope she wasn't mad at me for that. I just had to make her smile one more time that night. Morning. Whatever.

But as soon as she left, I started getting antsy. Like I was scared the conversation would turn back to Wyatt and me. Or that the whole thing that'd happened with us would creep into my brain and drive me crazy.

So I said, "C'mon! Let's get this show back on the road."

And as we were leaving, Celie grabbed my arm and dragged me into the little "gift shop" next door. I could see the waitresses watched me leave like a bunch of high school girls checking out the BMOC walking down the hall or something. But the zombies still sitting there chewing didn't even notice me. Comin' or goin'.

We bought jerky out of a big old box—there were three of them. Homemade stuff. Some Indian guy made it out of venison and beef, both, it said on the boxes. Then we grabbed a coupla pastries from this clear plastic case because they looked like they'd just come off the truck probably.

And then we got hard cider and beer and some chips and crazy shit like that. And she bought this t-shirt that had a wolf on it. You've seen 'em at those places. I wanted one of those motorcycle bandana hat things but I knew I'd never wear it.

Wasn't long before the cider and beer started to get to me. I damned near swerved us off the road on one turn. So we stopped at this concrete roadside table. Climbed up on the top of the table and sat looking at all the stars while we ate all the heinous crap we'd bought even though we'd already had all that real food.

And I finally laid down on my back on the cold concrete and said, "I should call her. I should go after her."

Celie smiled down and me and said, "There you go."

"Oh, like you've been waiting for me to say that or something."

"No. Just to wake up maybe."

"But you let me do this, though."

"Well, you woulda never got a chance to think back there."

I just laid there for a little while. And then I said, "This was the big one, though. Taking care of Terry. That was the thing we all wanted almost more than anything else. So that he'd be, like, totally equal. I know he loved us and wanted to take care of us and all, but this is what he was meant to do. To have. Prince among men, Big is. I want the world to understand that."

"He's fine, too."

"And single. And rich."

She shoved me upside the head and said, "Don't start."

"You could do worse."

"I don't interest him in the least, son. That man's gonna get himself a supermodel or somethin'. Big old blond. Watch."

"He doesn't like white women."

She stared at me in total disbelief and said, "Say what now?"

"He doesn't date white women. He gets all pissed off about how black men don't marry black women when they finally go to the NFL or NBA or up the ladder in some big company. Says a sistah brought you into this world and you outta take one along for the ride when that ship comes in."

"Where the hell did you find a brotha like that?"

"JJ found him."

"Your rich 'uncle?'" she said, making air quotes.

"How'd you find out about JJ?"

"007. That's another thing God gave you just to make sure."

I laughed and said, "So that's the plan, huh? To get me right with God?"

"I don't know nothin' about religion, son. It's a con as far as I'm concerned. But I know when something's up. I know when to pay attention."

She laid down next to me and said, "And I also know there's a woman out there in the worst pain of her life right now."

I closed my eyes and said, "Well, she's not alone..."

"Yeah, she is. Cause your life's gonna carry you through. You got no time to grieve. But the average person, with a job that dun touch their souls in any way shape or form, that's brutal. Ask those waitresses."

"She's been through a hell of a lot of grief already, though."

"You haven't? After what you told me about your whole family burning up and all that?"

"Different grief. Man shit. And, I dunno. I just wanted...I wanted to settle down with her and my kids. I really did. I could see it. How our lives would be. We'd already lived that way for a week almost. Best week I've had in a long time. Ever, with a woman. No fluff. We got right down to the real stuff. Like...fuck, let's let it lie."

"At 19, you found THE woman."

"You said I didn't act my age."

"Yeah, but you are your age. And that leaves a whole lotta years ahead."

"Only, all I ever imagined was having a woman and some kids that I cared about more than anything. Even though I don't know all that much about it. On account of we were nothing like the traditional family or anything. But that's probably why I want it so much. To do it right."

"At some point, you're going to want more than that. I'd bet money."

"You'd lose. I've had all the things people get all antsy for. More."

"Maybe."

She stretched and yawned and said, "The nice thing is you didn't have to ask. Or fight too hard for it. I mean, you paid your dues involuntarily, of course. Price was 'way too high."

I laughed a little and said, "Well, thanks for giving me some credit."

"You keep thinkin' I'm messin' with you. But I'm not. You're a good brutha. A good brotha is hard to find, period. Whatever flava. I'm glad we got to work through our little problem. I truly am."

"I wonder how come there are all these incredible women who can't find anybody worth having?"

"Your girls got that under control. They found each other."

"Two do."

She gave a little snort and said, "Yeah, Miss Aisha's one o' those church goin' sistahs I'm told. How did she work the pole and the pulpit, both?"

That made me laugh. And I shrugged and said, "No guilt at all. Not even for a minute. Said God wouldna given her all that body if 'e didn't want her to use it."

Celie almost rolled off the table laughing at that one. I had to grab her arm, in fact. The beer and the blunts had us all kinda woozy. So she coulda gone over the edge easily.

And she said, "See, that's what I missed. Sistahs from around the way who had that sass, you know? My mother didn't let me hang with anybody like that. She was hincty that way. If I brought home any of the hood kids she'd be all intellectual about it. Like I was doing some kind of research that she approved of. But you could see she was nervous. So I didn't actually know any black folks like that 'til I moved out on my own. And they looked at me like I was from Mars or somethin' at first. I just sounded so jive, you know? Trying to talk street."

"You sound okay now. Most of the time."

"You would know, too, wouldn't you? Wild child. I bet that's what she liked, too. Allat street smart. And...well...sum else..."

"No, that's what I liked about her. That sum else."

"Oh, really? With those three around all the time you liked her better?"

"I liked her different. I liked that it was different. I liked the quiet in the middle of it. The calm. Usually you get crazy, but with her, I got all chill. Right up to the big bang. Totally conscious and clear."

"Oooo. Now that is something I've never felt."

"Yeah, me neither. 's why I'd wake up and see her and think, 'Okay, yeah. This is it.' I don't even know what it is, but I felt it when I was with her. Like I could get on with the rest of my life. Like something big had been settled. Usually, I see all there is to see in a coupla minutes. And then it's just, like, Chinese food. You're hungry a few minutes after. No substance."

"Deep."

"Shut up."

"No, I mean it. I didn't think you'd thought it through that much. But you've got it locked down."

"Obviously not."

She turned toward me and started finger combing my hair like Wyatt did sometimes. But it was innocent. Like she was trying to fix it. Not like she meant anything sexy by it.

And she said, "If you chase her—this is not sour grapes so don't even try it, okay? But if you chase her right now, you'll scare her off again."

"How come?"

"You're crack cravable, too."

I laughed and reached over and touched her face. Studied it. She wasn't conventionally pretty. She was like a sculpture some ancient artist made, to honor the women of his tribe. Timeless like those Greek statues you see in museums that are always missing their arms. I could see why they had trouble casting her in the schlocky shit that's popular these days.

She got squirmy with me staring like that. So she sat up and said, "I need to pee."

"Your outta luck there," I said. "There's never any bathrooms next to these things."

She said, "Damn," and looked down at me to say, "Cover me."

"There's nobody driving around tonight. Just go!"

"There could be all kinda wild shit out there!"

"Do it here, then."

"Oh, right."

"You got something the girls don't have?"

She laughed and stood up on the table looking down at me. And said, "I don't know. You tell me."

"Okay, this is getting kinda interesting."

She laughed and started sort of bumping and grinding like a stripper—or her idea of one. And said, "I got moves, too, you know."

I just laid there laughing while she shimmied around, trying to find a way to get those panties down without being too flagrant. It was very entertaining, actually. Old School. You know, coy, the way they used to do it back in the day. Peeking over her shoulder at me while she sloooowly opened that slit in the side to get hold of her thong.

And just as she started tugging at it, this bright light hit us like a follow spot. Made my head hurt, it was so bright. But we both knew what it was. So she pulled that thong back up. And I sat up and saw that a highway patrol car had snuck up on us without a sound.

Celie went, "Shit," when the big white cop got out and aimed that light so he could see us even better. We'd seen him at Love's. And he smiled like he knew it.

"Long 'way from town," he said. Looking at Celie, not me.

But I said, "Just passin' through, officer," sort of teasing, like.

And Celie elbowed me, I think to remind me I was drunk and underage. And driving.

And then he said, "Your date's a lil young for you in 'e?" Again, to Celie, not me. And I got what was goin' on then.

So I said, "We're not on a date. Just drivin' back to Vegas. But I got sorta sleepy."

He gave me that snarky, smirky smile people give you when they think they've got you.

"Interesting," he said.

"Not really," I said. I shouldn't have, but I did.

"Well, I need you to sorta ease on up off that table'n' come—oh, you're a smart boy! Keep those hands where I can see 'em just like that. And girly you better make sure them panties is all the way up. We don't want no indecent exposure goin' on out here. No more'n' you already give 'im."

Celie looked over at me and saw that I'd put my hands behind my head. So she did the same. Looking really rattled.

"Expensive date," the cops in the same smarmy way. So we couldn't miss what he meant by "date."

I didn't answer back that time. Neither did Celie. I could tell she was kinda unused to the way things usually played out between Black folks and cops.

This cop looked her up and down real good and said, "You musta had someplace better than this to go. He decide to take a little drive or what?"

And to me he said, "Helluva car, too. Daddy know you borrowed it?"

"It's mine," I said.

"Well, do tell. You some kinda actor? Musician?"

Celie said, "He owns a casino," in this proud voice I knew would get us in trouble.

And he gave me this squinty stare and said, "Owns, you say?''

"Owns," Celie said. Even prouder.

So the cop said, "Look, I don't know what you two are tryin'a pull, but I do know it's not a good idea for you to be out here tonight--"

"Talking," Celie said. The wrong way again.

"You always take your panties off to have a conversation?"

I said, "Whoa, wait, we seriously weren't doin' anything like what you're imagining."

"Cause you're too drunk?"

This was not going well. So I said, "We stopped to just sit and sober up."

"Well, now that's right neighborly of you to be so considerate. But are you old enough to be drinkin', young blood?"

I got out my ID. And he held it up and shined this LED flashlight at it to give it a good going over.

But we've got the hook up when it comes to stuff like that. It's on official paper. And if he checked his database he'd get no red flags at all. My shit's correct.

He gave it back and said, "Mind if I take a peek at that big old fancy car?"

I said, "Go for it."

And then I saw Celie was not happy.

Cop saw it, too. And read her mind.

"Think I'll have a lookit that fancy little purse first," he said, looking past her. It was laying there on the table, shining in the moonlight. The silver bullet that was going to bring her down.

He smiled like he knew it. And she raised her chin and said, "It's mine."

I looked over at her. And when she gave me a "stay out of it" glare my stomach did that thing you feel when the roller coaster makes that first big drop.

"Well, I'm gonna take a little peep 'n' then we'll see what all we're talkin' about here," the cop said. "Wouldn't make this a habit, by the way, young lady. You pick up one o' them real psychos, we might never find the body out here in the bush."

I really tried not to look the way I felt about that remark.

And then he said, "I'm gonna let you do the honors so I don't get stuck or somethin'. You two keep those hands where I can see 'em and walk on ahead of me here."

So when I sort of reached over to put my hand in the small of her back, he barked, "What'd I say to you just now, son?!"

I put my hands back up, and he came stomping around in front of me and barked, "I'm yer Daddy 'til the real one gets here with that fast talkin' lawyer, okay?"

I didn't say anything to that, either. See, we know how bad white cops treat brown kids. But there's one thing bad white cops hate more than black kids. Actually, there are two things: a really, really poor white kid or a really, really rich white kid. Seriously.

And then he said, "What'll Daddy think about you spendin' yer trust fund money on this kinda extracurricular activities?"

I said, "Never knew my father."

"That explains a lot," he said. And then when Celie reached for her purse and he said, "I want you to open it careful, okay? Cause I don't wanna get cut, neither."

So I finally said, "Listen, you're reading this wrong, okay?"

And he said, "I'm talkin' to her now, sonny boy," and then told Celie to, "Dump it out on that table there."

She shook out the little that was in there. But that little that was in there was going to be big trouble for her. I watched the cop spread it out mostly for us to get a good look. And my stomach started to hurt worse.

I saw a few white pills in a tiny Baggie. A little pill box. A couple of little paper packets the size of a stick of gum. He opened the pill box and one of the packets and smelled the white powders inside.

And then he turned to her and said, "You know how to party, girl. Or is this how you get a lil sum'thin' for yourself on the side?"

When she didn't say anything, he looked at me and said, "Could be how you paid for that car, too."

Celie said, "He's not into that. He doesn't know anything about anything."

"Well, he come out here with ya', though."

She looked at me and said, "Tell him how you lost your family."

But I hesitated. So she said, "Meth lab fire. Incinerated every one of 'em."

The cop actually seemed to be moved by that. He sighed and said, "I seen a coupla those. You're lucky to be here."

"I wasn't home."

"Well, you made one good decision in your life."

"You know, he's been in the news a lot this week," Celie said. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize him."

Instead of slowing him down more, that seemed to make him mad.

He said, "Listen, I don't care if he's Obama's long lost cousin on the white side, he's still out here messin' around with you! And you brought the meth lab along with you. So I guess his life story didn't scare you much, did it?"

"It's not meth," she said. Like it not being meth would help somehow.

"Well, enlighten me," he said. "Coke? Smack?"

She said, "The last one," and looked at me like she wanted to see my reaction.

Which was, "What the fuck?!"

Oh, I know. It's trendy now, to do heroin. Especially with wealthy white women. But she was Black. He wouldn't treat her like he would've treated one of them.

He just chuckled and said, "Good reaction, son. You can go. But your party girl here, she's gonna take a little ride with me. Let's bounce!"

"Do I get to call someone?" she asked.

"This ain't TV."

"Yeah, but—"

He grabbed her by the arm and snarled, "I'm yer Daddy, too."

And I went, "Don't do that," through my teeth.

So he turned around to glare at me and said, "Don't make me change my mind."

I stood there toe to toe with him, trying to control my temper. And that long pause musta felt like I an insult to his manhood or something. Because he grabbed me by the neck, shoved me face down on top of the table and hissed, "That was the wrong reaction this time, kiddo."

I didn't struggle or talk back, but he could feel how angry I was. So he started pressing my head down real hard against the concrete. I could feel skin rubbing off.

And then he stepped back and said, "Don't make me mess up that meal ticket. Git up!"

And that was when I said, "How many beers did you have?"

Because I smelled it. Booze. On his breath when he was holding me down.

He squinted at me and said, "You don't know when to stop. You want me to show you how dangerous that is?"

He got some kind of call on his little squawk thing on his shoulder and stopped to bark back. I don't know all the codes, but he yawped out a bunch of them and then looked at me and said, "Let's just have a look at that car. In case I'm missing somethin'."

I'm not going to belabor the point. He crawled around, opened this, lifted that. The only thing he found was a fake nail Mike must've popped off shifting gears or something. And he goes, "You're a real lady killer, huh?"

And Celie said, "You're about to be in a world o' hurt, man." To him. And then another car eased up next to his.

And the cop got out and said, "You got a whole lotta people lookin' for you," to me.

And he beckoned the first cop aside and had a little talk with him while I stood there staring at Celie like if they weren't there I'd beat hell out of her for being so stupid.

But then the first cop came back and said, "You, I got no problems with." Meaning me.

But h told her that he couldn't just let her walk, "with that stash you showed me. Voluntarily."

And he was right, of course. So all I could think to say was, "I'll call Hugh. Don't say anything."

And they took her away then. Each cop holding one arm but almost gently, like they knew this was going to be a real delicate operation. And I ran to my car to follow them.

But I could hardly drive with my eyes all blurred up with tears.

Life can be over so fast.