North's CYOA 6

When we last left our intrepid detectives…

In the distance, a lone siren blared.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” North said as he reached the Fusion. “Let me do the talking.”

“Of c-course,” Luka said. “But m-maybe you want to see what they have in the cars first?”

Sometimes it seemed like nobody understood that North was in charge. He gave Luka a long look, but it didn’t do much; the dark-haired man just stood there, shivering and looking like a nerd going into hypothermia. So, North climbed up into the back of the hauler.

He lucked out: the Impala was the last car they’d loaded in. North opened the door, stuck his head inside, had a brief vision of selling the Vadermobile—fuck, the GNX—and buying something like this. It didn’t have to be an Impala. It could be a Mustang.

“E-everything all right?” Luka asked from the tailgate.

“I’m working on it,” North snapped.

“Y-you’ve been s-standing there f-for, l-like, t-two minutes.”

“How about you go warm up before your dick drops off?

“I c-can’t,” Luka said with a grin. “I’m h-helping y-you.”

“Fuck me,” North said—not under his breath.

But since Luka was still standing there, and the dark-haired man didn’t look like he was worried at all about a seriously bad case of frosted dick-tip, North went to work. He gave the interior of the car a quick glance. Nothing immediately obvious. Pushing the door open as wide as he could, he looked at the panel. It was still in place, and he didn’t see any sign that they’d tampered with it. Which made sense, all things considered—the hauler hadn’t stopped at the rest area for long, and they wouldn’t have had time for any elaborate hiding places.

After not finding anything under the seats, North hopped down from the hauler, made his way to the driver—who was awake, but had apparently decided lying very still was his best course of action. North fished out the driver’s keys, ignoring the man’s groans, and climbed into the cab of the hauler. He opened the lockbox, scanned the keys inside it, and snagged a set.

“G-good j-job, N-north,” Luka called as North pulled himself up into the back of the hauler again. “I’m l-learning so m-much.”

Why, North sometimes wanted to know, did the universe keep testing him?

The smaller key on the ring unlocked the Impala’s trunk.

And there it was, neatly stacked: plastic-wrapped bundles. North leaned closer, careful not to touch anything.

“W-what is it?” Luka called.

“Meth,” North said. “Lots and lots of meth.”

The sirens were getting closer now. North shut the trunk. He returned the keys to the lockbox. And he dropped the driver’s keys on the ground next to him.

As the first cruiser reached the station, lights flashing, North said, “You know that whole ‘I’m pretty but a little bit slow’ thing you have going on?”

“W-what?”

“Exactly. Lean into that.”

Eventually, the cops let them go. It was a couple of deputies from a dinky sheriff’s office, the kind of I-breathe-out-of-my-asshole types that came with being this far away from civilization. And it helped that North got his client on the phone, and she explained why she’d hired him, and Luka had somebody from the insurance company on speed dial.

So a little after midnight, North and Luka were back in the Fusion. The highway flicked past them in blurs of dark and light. Luka had finally stopped shivering and was dozing, his head dipping, coming up, then drooping again. It would have been cute if he hadn’t been such a pain in the ass.

Then Luka let out a loud snore. The sound must have woken him, because he jerked upright.

North laughed.

Rubbing his eyes, Luka gave a tired—and slightly sheepish—smile. “Sorry.”

“Long day,” North said.

“More like a few long nights.” To North’s surprise, Luka squirmed in his seat, and although the only light in the Fusion came from the dash, it looked like a blush was rising in Luka’s cheeks. “Not what I meant.”

“Hey, man, no shame. Lots of guys stay up all night fucking their dark elf body pillow and riding a horse dildo. Work all day. Play all night. That takes it out of you.”

Luka didn’t seem like the kind of guy who rolled his eyes. But there was a little of that energy in the way he stretched and popped his back and acted like he hadn’t heard North. He reached into his pocket and checked his phone and answered a call. He made a few affirmative sounds and said, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be there as soon as I can. No, you don’t have to call the police. I’m on my way, Mrs. Zimmerman. Thank you.”

He pocketed the phone and stared straight ahead. The Fusion rocked over an uneven stretch of road. And, in a painfully neutral voice, he said, “My mom.”

“You call your mom Mrs. Zimmerman?”

Luka opened his mouth. And then a smile cracked across his face, and he rubbed his eyes again. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very complicated person?”

“The word you’re looking for,” North said, “is asshole.”

The smile again: a little brighter, then gone, like a struck match.

After another mile, North asked, “Is she okay?”

Luka moved in his seat again. Light poured into the car as they sped under a high mast, and then the dark swallowed them up again. “She gets confused sometimes.” Luka looked out the window. “It’s worse at night.”

“Oh. Shit.”

Luka shrugged. He was still staring at the glass.

“My dad—” North began. But he had no idea how to put it all into words. Felt like it would get caught in his throat if he did. He slid his hands around the steering wheel until he felt like he could say, “Does she ever fuck up her pills?”

Luka didn’t say anything.

“I’m over there every week now,” North said, “just to make sure he does them right. Most of the time, it’s fine, whatever. But fuck me, I was there once, watching him make a fucking mess of it, and I know the one time I don’t check…”

The hum of the tires.

The headlights following the broken asphalt of the shoulder.

“I have to keep them locked up,” Luka finally said. “The last time I didn’t, she threw them away.” In a voice somewhere between frustration and surrender, Luka added, “She said she didn’t like Tic Tacs.”

The laugh slipped out of North before he could stop it.

Luka flashed him a startled smile, and then he started to laugh too.

They were pulling off at the rest area when Luka said, almost like he was trying to convince himself, “I don’t mind, really. She calms down once I’m there. I can read. Watch a show.”

“Just you and Legolas, humping one out.”

“This week, more like Parn,” Luka said with a smirk. “I’ve been bingeing this old anime. You probably haven’t heard of it—”

“Record of Lodoss War.” North brought the car to a stop. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Wait,” Luka said, “you have heard of it?”

“Heard of it?” North turned in his seat to face the other man. “I’m going to tell you two things you need to get really fucking clear. One: Record of Lodoss War is the shit. And two: you ever tell anyone I just said that, and I’ll murder you. Got it?”

Luka looked like he was trying not to smile, but he nodded.

“Good,” North said. “Now have you ever seen Chronicles of a Hero Knight?”