Young lady, stand up.

She shook her head wildly. The colorful beads woven into her hair clicked together like a wind chime in a storm.

Stand up now, Bennett said, more forcefully. He put his hand under the arm of her jacket. If you dont get a hold of yourself the management is going to call the police. I recommend you do what you can to avoid that.

The girl looked up at him, disdain twisting her mouth. I dont need nobodys sympathy.

Bennett glanced around, noting the crowd that had begun to gather.

Pardon my candor, but I think a hysterical black girl abandoned at a truck stop in the middle of Nebraska might want to take advantage of any offer of assistance.

Her lip curled. How do you know Im abandoned?

I watched him leave, Bennett whispered. Please, come inside where we can finish this conversation.

The girl then turned her head and saw the audience, now several truckers deep. She jumped to her feet and wiped her face with her palms, suddenly in agreement with Bennett. She picked up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.

Im not what you think I am, she said in an angry whisper, walking past Bennett as he held the door for her. When Bennett motioned toward his booth, she sat, but not before shaking her head with contempt and giving him a warning. Dont ever touch me again, she hissed. Once Bennett had taken his seat, she leaned across the booth and said, I am a strong and proud woman and I dont want nobodys damn charity. This is my problem and I will come up with my own damn solution.

Bennett smiled. Understood. In the meantime, would you care for something to eat? I hear the bean soup is excellent.

Um, you can go faster if you want, Josie said loudly, peering over Ricks shoulder to the speedometer, watching the needle hover between the numbers ten and twenty.

Nope. This is good, Rick shouted, his body still rigid as a board in her arms.

Josie hung on, enjoying her bumpy crawl down one of the hundreds of dirt lanes crisscrossing through the vineyards. What section are we in right now? she asked.

Its still the chardonnay. Were getting ready to go into the redswe have a cabernet and a merlot past the split-rail fence.

The dog pack raced by them, kicking up the dust. The motorcycle continued to chug along. Josie sighed and turned her head so she could rest her cheek on Ricks strong back. She squeezed him tight, and let herself smile.

I love you, she whispered, not nearly loud enough for him to hear. I love you, Rick Rousseau.

Josies smile widened. She was riding on the back of a Harley through her boyfriends vineyards! Okay, there wasnt enough wind to blow back her hair, but it was still a picture-perfect moment. How was it possible that in less than a month her entire world had been transformed? That night on the Celestial Pet sidewalk seemed like it belonged to some other woman entirely. She supposed it hadthe woman back then was the prelist Josie Sheehan. But the girl with her thighs wrapped around a thousand pounds of steel and leather was the postlist Josie Sheehanthe girl whod placed her order with the universe and was now a thoroughly satisfied customer.

She made a mental note to review that infamous list when she got back to the city, because she felt certain Rick hadnt failed to measure up in any category. /A funny, respectful, generous, intelligent, deep-thinking man who is passionate about his work?/ Check. /Loves dogs?/ Check. /Spiritual? Enjoys nature?/ Oh, yes. /Overcome obstacles in his life?/ Puh-lease! /And the imaginative, passionate, sensual man shed always dreamed of?

The mad kissing skills? The eyes that revealed his soul? The go-all-night-ability?/ Yes, yes, yes, and yes! /Well endowed?/ Ha! In his pants /and/ his nonprofit!

Everything okay back there? Rick yelled.

Josie laughed. If the weekend had taught her anything, it was that she could love a man who met all her requirements, yet was terribly, irretrievably flawed. Funny how that worked out.

Perfect! she shouted back.

The girl hadnt said much for the last two hours. Not that additional conversation was necessary once theyd established the ground rules for the trip: if he tried to touch her or disrespect her in any way, shed kick his ass to the Pacific Ocean.

Bennett had always been a fan of straight talk.

He dared a glance her way and found her sleeping, her right cheek pressed up against the window glass. He pegged her for about twenty, maybe slightly older. She was dressed like any other young kid hed seen on the roadjeans and a tight T-shirt layered over an even tighter T-shirt. Her denim jacket was clean. Her high-top sneakers looked new.

Her black hair was braided tight at her scalp but hung loose to her shoulders, dotted with purple, white, and blue beads. She had beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, clear skin, and nice teeth. Not that hed seen her smile.

He wondered if she was a college student. Or if she had a job. He couldnt place her accent. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of cheap gold hoop earrings.

Keep your eyes on the road, she said, her face still pressed against the glass.

The road ahead was Interstate 80, same as the road behind. And thats how it would remain all way to San Francisco. Bennett looked out the window and saw nothing but flatland. At times during the day hed felt like Jonah, swallowed by some great beast of the grasslands, its innards alien and stark.

My name is Bennett, he said. Whats yours?

The girl sat up in the passenger seat and scowled at him.

Look, mister, I wouldve never accepted a ride with a stranger unless I had to. Im smarter than that. She wagged a finger at him. I weighed the risks and benefits and made my decision. But Im not weak and Im not stupid. Never have been. Never will be.

I see that.

So dont fuck with me.

It is not my intention.

She stared at him in silence for a moment. What is your intention, then? she asked, her hostility mellowing to distrust. Why did you buy me lunch? Why did you offer to drive me west?

Bennett kept his eyes on the road as instructed. You clearly needed assistance. Weve all been there at some point in our lives.

The girl reached up and fingered the gold-fringed Mexican flag hanging from the rearview mirror, along with his pine-scented air freshener. She laughed. If youre Mexican, then Im Vanna White.

Bennett smiled. I borrowed the car from a friend. Im of German heritage.

Her stare nearly burned a hole through the side of his head. Do people call you Benny? she asked.

He laughed. How ridiculous it would sound if anyone in his life addressed him so casually! Even Julia. Interestingly, hed hardly thought of Julia in the last several days. It was as if she were part of a life that no longer existed for him. Ben or Benny would be fine, he said.

My name is LaShelle.

Nice to meet you, LaShelle.

Thanks for the ride, Benny.

Of course.

Mind if we listen to music?

Im not sure what stations are available out here.

Oh, I brought my own, she said, reaching between her feet to root through her backpack. She shoved a CD into the slot in the dashboard, adjusted the bass level, and relaxed in her seat.

The thumping was so severe that Bennett expected to look in his rearview mirror and see Skylark parts scattered over I-80s westbound lanes.

Nice speakers! LaShelle said, bobbing and weaving to the pounding beat.

Bennett kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road while LaShelle sang along to lyrics that, from what he could deduce, warned of big changes coming. He liked the sentiment.

What is this song called? Bennett shouted. ?Big Shit Poppin!

How prophetic, he thought.

Late that night, in a motel room on the Colorado borderand across the hall from LaShelleBennett took out his Rand McNally map. He already knew what the pages would show, but he wanted to savor it: revenge was three days away. Big shit was about to pop, indeed.