Kinetic response immidtaly clutching at the ring of allotted keys thrown at his chest the surface of his palm cupped the metallic cuts, the unwieldy mess stowed into his shirtfront. Not graceful by any means, but at least it saved him from having to rescue them from the kitchen floor. Settling the keys into his grasp with a light toss through the air and a catch Boyd proceeded to pocket them without a second thought as to their ownership.Boyd couldn’t feel any more like he was tethered by an invisible length of rope with the amount of courtly fallowing he had been doing over the past week. Never leading, always weary to make sure his dance routine in no way interfered with hers meant that he was a subject to her imperial walk. On her coattails with a bowed head and a synchronized step as an adviser without input. Even as they broke on through to the exterior air lingering with a sour bake of an earlier day he remained as her shadow, watchful to never encroach on the shattered glass she continued distributing around herself as a protective measure. Before Ava even needed to mention the locking of the front door the slice of a serrated nickle alloy was making quick allies with the lock. Sticky as it was before the latch could be heard with a satisfying click and the night had been sealed.
Attacking the doorhandle with a calculated vigor Boyd’s placement behind the wheel was swift and aqueous. The hop into the worn leather a triumphant indent as he set himself behind the unfamiliar arrangement. Knowing full well any adjustments to the seating to accommodate for his leg span would be a fruitless war against seized mechanics he instead just lit the engine and settled the truck into a staggered reverse. Maneuvering out of the driveway without incident, highbeams the only insurance against ditch- acquaintance, the rolling transport had both bodies move out into the night with a hailstorm roar.
Carving through the landscape on a motion of familiarity, turns taken into consideration and changes in road quality a byproduct of routine meant that the harboring of evergreens and deciduous fell away to serene field. Lazy eyes making sure speed was maintained with as much regularity as the silence that lingered on the dashboard an occasional glance at the speedometer was met. Single hand guiding by the base of the wheel it’s counterpart was spared duty and left to comfortably sit on the round of leg, darkness consuming it’s presence.
Crossroads passed with bullet kissed roadsigns meant that Harlan was slowly become a rear-view placemark on a legend of illustrious hollers, another illustration on a sketchy map. Left behind for the ‘township’ of Cumberland, a strange deluge of an oasis that for all it’s dirty faults held the only reservoir of liquor. Upon entering a collection of humanity the embers of electric haze started to feather outward to drown out the constellation mess above. Guide the truck past single lane creek bridges and more rail-track stops than seemed feasible to the only strip of flat-top in a 5 mile radius. As if smoothing out gravel to a melt of satin sheeting the angry noises of the truck below subsided into a sensitive release, thankful to be on civilized ground all the way to the final brake tap. Causally purring on fumes below the sign of the “Eversteen Roadhouse” Boyd killed the engine with a simple turn and leaned into the backing of his offered throne. Finally able to exceed past simple glances and refracted views of black light reflection Boyd twisted at the hip to meet with Ava, both hands paired together at the helm of the steering wheel.
“Your reservation awaits m’lady.” A mad unhealthy grin brightening the area with the natural luminosity of pearly bridge Boyd delivered a sweeping hand towards the trailer-turned drinking den. “Don’t wanna keep any of your subject’s waitin’ now do we?”
Overall stillness lingering in unlit cab was comfortably serene. The strangeness culminated the moment Boyd turned over the engine and dissipated as they fled confines of her property. Southern belle took comfort in crystalline reflection resonating blurred trees and impoverished crops struggling to flourish in acidic Appalachian utisols. Evenings remained cooler than expected this late spring, stunting the growth of tobaccos, fruits and vegetables. She couldn’t wait until warmer weather, when adorning sweaters or jackets was no longer necessary and hen could frequent the local farmers market for fresh ingredients downtown. Summer would reach them shortly as the days stretched and the sun’s rays rose to scorching temperatures. Another week or two and neither of them would stand being in a stuffy home for too long. There would be many nights to come when she simply couldn’t keep indoors.
Sapphire eyes settled intently on the scenery as rusty carriage trekked along age old back roads lit only by natural moonlight overhead. She knew if Boyd were to even feel ceruleans on him for just a moment, it would open flood gates for conversation she’d find no interest in. Elbow rested leisurely angled upon uncomfortable plastic forearm rest and velvety palm tended to contour defined cheek bone. The majority of their excursion was spent quiet. Ava only attempted to turn the radio on once before deciding tunes were a lost cause. Static frequencies interrupted bouts of country or blues depending on the station often enough to abrade sensitive ear drums and force fingers to cease the wretched interferences. There would be music at the bar; she just had to summon a little forbearance, but when was Ava known to have patience, really?
Bright crimson poked luminously through pine hedges and instantly captured her attention. It was a short and tolerable half hour journey worth taking for a bud light bottle and a rugged double of coveted Kentucky rye. When the truck reached a halt, concentration tended to the outlaw sitting beside her. Brows narrowed and porcelain visage shook. He was sporting that ever so worrisome grin again. “I ain’t your lady,” she chided in arching scoff, “ladies don’t consort with peasants.” Fingers jerked door handle, popping open rickety hinges as azures circumvented in amusement, pale gaze settling in unison with mahogany tinted emeralds. “An’ don’t even think about givin’ me some fairytale bull shit ‘bout stable boys and princesses, ‘cause we all know the endin’ to that story.” The stable boy always ended up dead.
Pushing door open, single slender leg exited vehicle one after the other and palm flattened over steel panel and loudly shut passenger door behind her. Already she could feel the hungry eyes of gauche men catching refuge from the dense fog of chemicals clouding interior of poorly structured establishment. Rounding to the front of the truck with leather purse slung over shoulder and tightly clutched to person, she waited for Boyd before advancing in step to scale curiously precarious front staircase. “Of all the places..” words trailed and blue hues surveyed aged trailer face, it was hardly welcoming, but she had to admit there was a certain charm to dingy premises. The place had Boyd Crowder written all over it.
Familiarity encompassed essence once she’d reached indoors. Ava had been here before, but when it held a finer reputable state many moons ago. “Did this used to be Mill Pond Diner?” Gilded crescents furrowed. It was as she remembered it when she was a little girl, save some major decorative changes and rearrangements. Quaint picture frames and James Dean posters were now replaced with more masculine items such as stag wall mounts, automobile parts and street signs, and many of the booths had been gutted or removed to make room for tables. Boyd’s complexion was painted a dark shade of red from blinding neon red dog and Budweiser advertisements which seemed to be the only source of light in this bar. A lot changed in the span of two decades.
Wading passed a group of men and their old ladies barricading the bar, Ava sought recourse upon a barstool surrounded by vacant twin seats. It seemed the bartender was busy tending to regulars at first, but the moment he noted Boyd’s presence he dropped conversation to greet him boisterously. “What are you havin’ darlin’?” Her eyes scurried over the array of alcohol stacked on shelves in no particular assortment, lingering on their small assortment of bourbons and whiskeys she’d order, “I’ll have a, uh, bud light bottle and a double shot’a Wild Turkey.” If she was going to be drinking tonight, she was going to start things off right. Fingernails lightly tapped glossed lumber and countering backs of knuckles gravitated to support delicately refined chin as she settled in. After few beats of silence between herself and the outlaw, her head canted in Crowder’s direction, oceans wavering over his frame as he took his seat.
“You come here often?”
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