Broken Halo (Wander Lust - PT 2)

CH 1: "Missing Link"

The old man in the rickety pickup with the mottled paint job and corroded rear bumper picked Joey up just after sunrise. The bench seat consisted of more duct tape than original upholstery and tufts of pale yellow sponge squeezed through freshly forming cracks, dried and flaky.

It was noisy inside the cab. The bed shimmied and shook, and the wooden racks rattled back and forth and Joey kept expecting them to topple off. How the hell was this thing even running? Joey wondered. The entire rig seemed to be shaking apart at the seams, yet it continued to rumble on down the road.

The old man behind the wheel didn't speak. Didn't look at Joey. His skin was like weathered leather, and cracked, lines mapping his face. His bushy eyebrows were a mix of gray and white, and matching stubble spackled his jaw. Not the neat, even stubble that had sprinkled Owen's face—but unkempt, as if the old man just didn't give a fuck anymore about how he looked.

Somewhere around mid-morning, the pickup swerved into a large, gravel parking lot of a truck stop café. The truck came to a stop with a grinding of gears and a couple burps from the tailpipe. Joey shoved open the passenger door with some effort and stepped. "Thanks for the ride," he said quietly.

"Ayuh," the old man grunted and drove away.

Joey turned around and looked across the wide parking lot. Five big rigs sat idle and silent; three with box commercial trailers, one log truck packing its tail on its back, and an empty-ended red semi with a large sleeper compartment. Joey exhaled and headed toward the café on the far side, his sneakers crunching gravel.

Though a couple hours shy of noon, the July morning was already gaining heat. The sky was clear without a cloud in sight, and bright blue. Like Doug's eyes. Pain instantly knotted Joey's chest and he banished the thought before it took root. This was new day; a new beginning. Time to start moving on for real.

He blinked and swept his hand over his hair. He wasn't so foolish as to think it would all just go away overnight—not something like this. His situation with Doug hadn't been a typical, everyday romance. Doug had been the nucleus of Joey's entire existence as he knew it. He had no concept of life without the man. Everything was new...like starting life all over again. He had liked his life with Doug and hadn't wanted to begin again all by himself.

What he wanted and what he got was proving to be two very different things.

A loud air horn suddenly blared behind him and Joey yelped, spinning around. A huge green semi was right behind him, lumbering forward. Joey scrambled out of the way then jogged for the café.

Shoving through the entrance door, Joey was struck with the aroma of eggs and bacon and pancakes. Despite the weight in his chest and knot in his gut, his stomach instant rumbled, his mouth watering. He hadn't eaten a meal since yesterday afternoon at the roadside diner. Before he'd gone to sleep last night, Owen had offered him a protein bar, but he'd been too upset and his stomach had rebelled at the thought of putting anything in it. Not now—now it was insisting he feed it.

The café was full, though not overly crowded. Mostly truckers. Joey weaved through the tables, around the chairs and grabbed an empty stool at the end of the counter. He took out his wallet and stared at the twenty crammed in there all alone. A full breakfast was what he wanted, but again—want and get were two different things. He couldn't afford to spend too much on one meal.

A waitress, fortyish and slightly plump, approached with an order pad in her hand. Her eyes looked tired and locks of her dark blond hair were beginning to tumble loose from the hair clamps. "What can I get ya?" her voice was as tired as her eyes.