Read Online Wilder Boys by Brandon Wallace - Free Book Online

thirty parked trucks, many of them belching out diesel fumes as their drivers attended to business inside the central building.
    â€œYou’d better wait outside here with Cody,” Jake told Taylor.
    â€œGet me some chips—oh, and some peanut butter cups.”
    Jake went into the store and quickly began cruising up and down the aisles, filling a plastic basket full of food that would have made a health worker cringe. He grabbed bags of chips and peanut butter cups for Taylor, two large Cokes, and a package of cookies. He returned to the refrigerator and picked out a chunk of cheddar cheese, some baloney, and a quart of milk, then threw in some beef jerky and a large bag of trail mix for good measure. Finally he grabbed two cans of dog food for Cody, along with some doggy treats, and carried the shopping basket to the counter.
    That should keep us going for a few days, Jake thought.
    A middle-aged woman rang up the food impatiently.
    â€œYou want a bag?”
    â€œYes, please.”
    With an annoyed grimace, the woman dumped the groceries into two plastic bags. “That’ll be $39.72.”
    Jake handed her a one-hundred-dollar bill from Bull’s stash.
    Seeing the large denomination, the woman looked at Jake, then back at the bill. She held it up to the light to look for the watermark and security strip, then picked up a special marker and made a dash across the bill. Jake started to get nervous. He tapped his hand on his thigh and looked out the store window with what he hoped was a casual expression.
    What’s taking her so long?
    The cashier hesitated, her hand hovering over the till. “What’s a kid like you doing walking around with one-hundred-dollar bills in his pocket?” she asked, fixing Jake with a glare.
    â€œIt was, uh, a birthday present,” Jake answered, shifting slightly.
    The woman ran her eyes up and down Jake’s dirty shirt and messed-up hair. “Birthday present, huh? Stolen, more like. Maybe I should call the police, so you can confirm your story with them?”
    â€œWhat?” Jake blurted. If the police got involved, that was it for him and Taylor. They’d be on the first bus back to Pittsburgh . . . and to Bull. “Don’t—that’s all I have, I swear!”
    â€œAnd maybe we’ll soon know why,” the woman said, reaching for the phone.

9 Acid surged in back of Jake’s throat. “Please . . .,” he said, but before he could continue, another voice spoke up behind him.
    â€œAw, Pam. Cut the kid some slack, will ya?”
    Jake turned to see a middle-aged blond woman standing next him. She was dressed in jeans and a trucker’s cap. Her arm muscles bulged out of the sleeves of a T-shirt that read KEEP ON TRUCKIN’ and had a picture of a speeding truck with flames shooting out the back.
    â€œOh, it’s you, Sharon. I’m just trying to make sure the kid isn’t in trouble,” the cashier—Pam—responded.
    â€œAnd if he isn’t, you’re going to try to make some trouble for him, right?” the truck driver—Sharon—answered. “I swear, since your divorce, you’ve been more ornery than a rabid possum.”
    Pam shot her a dirty look. “You stay out of this, Sharon. I got a duty to look out for trouble.”
    Sharon stepped past Jake. “And maybe I’ve got a duty to tell other truckers to pass up this choke-and-puke joint and gas up at Roady’s Truck Stop two exits back?”
    Pam scowled, the gears in her head clicking over. “Fine,” she finally said, stuffing the one-hundred-dollar bill into her cash register and slapping Jake’s change down on the counter. “But listen, kid, don’t let me see you around here again, you hear?”
    Jake didn’t answer, just scooped up his money and hurried out to where Taylor and Cody waited on a nearby bench.
    Taylor grabbed a plastic bag from Jake.