Read Online Travelin' Man by Tom Mendicino - Free Book Online

Coach, should be able to stop him from spending his own money.
    â€œHey man, what you doing in there?” Seamus calls.
    He panics, worried that this freak Seamus could be ransacking his duffel bag and the pockets of his jeans, not satisfied with the cash he’s taken from Darrell. Darrell’s too high to stop him; he won’t even try. KC jumps to his feet and rushes into the bedroom and finds them both naked. Seamus is on his back, sprawled across the bed; the soles of his feet are black with dirt. Darrell’s on his stomach, lying between Seamus’s legs, lazily sucking the younger man’s cock. Seamus pulls himself up onto his elbows, not understanding why KC is putting on his pants and tying his shoes.
    â€œCome over here, buddy, and fuck me. You’re gonna fuck my ass, aren’t you?”
    KC picks up his duffel, still unpacked, and smiles, explaining he’ll be right back.
    â€œI gotta do my laundry first. All my clothes are dirty,” he explains, promising to bring back a bottle of Belvedere.
    â€œWe’ll be here partying, buddy. As long as there’s cash to spend,” Seamus says, falling back in the mattress.
    The keys to Darrell’s rental and the parking garage ticket are lying on the bureau. KC slips them in his pocket and closes the door behind him.
    Â 
    It takes KC an hour to find the rental car in the garage. Either the cashier gives him shitty directions to Interstate 5 or he makes a wrong turn. He’s stuck in traffic near the Space Needle, then drives in circles until he finally finds the entrance to the highway. He doesn’t stop until he’s miles across the Oregon border. He parks behind a Burger King to call Mr. Stapleton. He reaches into his pocket for his phone, finding only a few loose coins. A frantic search of his other pockets yields nothing but his wallet and a dirty handkerchief. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels the blood pulsing behind his eardrums. He unzips his duffel bag and dumps the contents on the back seat of the car. He finds the charger, but nothing to charge. He opens every door of the car and drops to his knees, running his hands under the seats, praying that the precious phone is lying on the floor. He slumps onto the asphalt and squeezes his skull with his hands, trying to remember the last time he held it in his palm. The bathroom. His phone is on the bathroom floor of Darrell’s hotel room where he dropped it when he thought he was being robbed.
    â€œFuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he hisses, spitting the words through gritted teeth.
    He rises to his feet and pounds the hood of the car with his fists. His whole life is fucked, he swears as he kicks the tires. He could turn the car around and go back to Seattle. He can saunter into the hotel room as if nothing had happened, that he hasn’t been AWOL since morning. Darrell’s probably still too high to realize his car keys are missing, but the rental company won’t be forgiving if the car has already been reported stolen. You can’t use a phone in jail and it’s not worth the risk he’d be taking if he returned to retrieve it.
    â€œHey!”
    A kid in a fast food uniform shouts at him, keeping his distance, not straying far from the safety of the back door of the building. KC can be scary when he’s angry and the fry cook doesn’t want to be tomorrow’s headline, the victim of a lunatic with a knife or a gun.
    â€œHey, dude. You gotta go.”
    KC starts to argue with him. It’s a free country. He can park here if he wants. Go fuck yourself, asshole, he shouts.
    â€œThis lot’s for customers only,” the kid says, retreating a few steps further.
    â€œI don’t want your fucking shit burgers,” KC yells as he slams the car door and races the engine. “You’re a fucking loser,” he shouts out the window as he peels out of the parking lot, barely avoiding a collision with a