“If you mention your bladder one more time I’ll remove it for you,” Greg hissed, “through your nose.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to piss,” Paul grumbled.

“We’re coming up on a town,” Brad announced, “we’ll stop at the first place we find and we can all take a bathroom break.”

“I told you not to drink so much coffee at breakfast,” Gina chided.

Paul had taken to bouncing in his seat with his hands clasped between his knees. It didn’t do much to alleviate his need, but it certainly bugged the hell out of Greg. “Ooh look, a road house!” Paul cried out, pointing out the window.

“Yes I see it, chill out,” Fenny said with a chuckle. “Now I know how my parents felt when they drove us cross country.” She pulled to a stop in front of the road house and everyone piled out.

“You not coming, Proops?” Paul asked.

“No,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m not gonna make a special stop for you later,” Fenny declared.

“I don’t care.”

The other four shrugged simultaneously and wandered in to find the restrooms.

“Greg’s in quite a mood,” Fenny said as she washed her hands.

“Jealous I think,” Gina sighed sadly. “Have you noticed…hmm.” She seemed to think for a minute as she ran her fingers absently through her hair. “He’s not wearing his wedding band.”

“Really?” Fenny asked. “That’s strange. Oh, well he took it off…”

“What?” Gina pressed.

“The first time we were together, I asked him about his wife. He took it off then. It’s probably not a big deal.” Fenny tried to sound assuring but was worried a bit herself.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Gina agreed. “It’s just, it’s kinda strange. You won’t mention it, will you?”

“Of course not,” Fenny assured her.

“Let’s find the guys,” Gina flustered and left the restroom.

“So, who’s driving from here?” Brad asked as the girls appeared by the door.

“I’d be willing to give it a go,” Gina chirped. “Pauly can be my navigator.”

“It’s all yours,” Fenny laughed and grabbed Brad’s arm as they headed back out for the car.

Greg sat with his arms still crossed in the back seat of the car, waiting for the others to return. Paul and Gina were getting a little too close for his comfort. He slid into the middle spot and fastened his seatbelt tightly around his waist. Greg resolved not to move—he wanted to be near Gina. He looked down at his hands out of boredom and smiled at the pale line across his finger where his wedding ring once lay.

He jumped a mile when someone knocked on one of the windows. “Jesus,” he panted as he looked up to find Brad opening the door.

“Scooch over,” he insisted.

“What? Why?” Greg demanded. “I thought you guys were driving.”

“Nope, Gina volunteered,” Fenny smiled.

“Now move it,” Brad ordered.

Grumbling under his breath, Greg slid over against the other window as Fenny and then Brad crawled into the car. “Hey Proopdog,” Fenny chimed. Greg couldn’t help but smile at her; she was the one person who he hadn’t wanted to kill over the last week. She was, in fact, the one person he had spent the last week trying to save.

“Hey Fenster,” he said as Gina started the engine and pulled back onto the main road. Greg looked out his window, casting occasional glances at Gina and Paul. Paul scooted over to point out their route on the map after a few minutes, but never moved back. Greg’s face sunk lower into its scowl with every passing minute; Paul was sitting close enough to Gina for him to be working the clutch for her, and their conversation was carried out in hushed tones. As horrid as the idea was, Greg wished for the singing to start again.

With a heavy sigh he glanced over at Fenny and Brad with the hopes of maybe some halfway intelligent conversation. “For god’s sake, please,” he whined, rolling his eyes at the pair. Fenny had her leg over one of Brad’s, he had one hand in her hair and the other slipping gradually farther down her back, and they were going at it like teenagers at Make Out Point. Disgusted, Greg looked back out the window, but now that he was aware of what was going on six inches to his left, all he could hear was their occasional wet smacking sounds. “I’m going to be sick,” Greg announced.

Paul turned around to glare at Greg. “What are you whining about now?”

“Would you look at these two?” he demanded. “It’s like, I don’t even know what. It’s disturbing is what it is.”

“Greg, would you please lay off,” Gina groused. “They’re young, they’re in love, they’ve had a very rough time lately, and they haven’t seen each other in ages. They may be a bit over the top, but that’s what they do.”

“We were never like them, were we?” Paul asked Gina.

“Us? No,” Gina smiled as she glanced at Fenny and Brad in her rear view mirror. “We were too busy having sex to be caught having a good round of tonsil tennis.”

“Guess the upside is that Fenny can’t sing with Brad’s tongue down her throat,” Paul mused.

“You know, it’s not like we can’t hear you,” Fenny said breathily as they came up for air.

“Oh, I would’ve thought that with all that slurping you’re doing you would’ve drowned out all this infernal racket of the real world,” Greg huffed and looked back out the window.

“You think we’re bothering the others?” Fenny asked as she leaned her head against Brad’s shoulder.

“I dunno. I don’t really care,” he smiled and pressed his cheek to her forehead and pulled her closer to him.

“Oowww,” she hissed suddenly through clenched teeth and Brad jerked away from her a bit.

“What’s wrong with you now?” Greg growled.

“Oh, nothing,” Fenny answered, blushing a bit. “Hurt my back last night is all.”

“Gee Fen, how’d you hurt your back last night?” Paul queried, raising his eyebrows as he turned to grin at her. “Pruning the Lotus or the Angry Elephant? Did you forget to stretch before trying out the latest Kama Sutra position?”

“Will you shut up about that already?” Fenny said, trying hard not to smile.

“What did you do to yourself then?” Gina asked.

“Shower accident,” Fenny mumbled.

“I’m thinking this is one of those things we shouldn’t ask about,” Gina smiled as Brad reflexively rubbed the sore spot at the back of his head.

“Yes, it certainly is,” Fenny said, leaning back into Brad. They managed to content themselves with more subtle signs of affection, an occasional squeeze of the knee, hug around the waist, or small peck, and all was silent for a few minutes, apart from the occasional rattle and cough from the car.

“Gina?” Greg asked meekly.

“What?”

“I have to pee.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Gina scoffed.

“Seriously. Next place you pass, could you, y’know…”

“We told you at the last stop that we weren’t going to make special accommodations for you just because you decided you wanted to sulk in the car like a child.”

“Gina, I need to find a bathroom.”

“You’re gonna have to wait.”

“If you make me wait, we’re gonna have worse things to deal with than Paul’s body odor.”

“Oh, and you’re a fucking garden of roses,” Paul scorned.

“Stop being stupid and just find a rest stop or something,” Greg huffed.

“Stop being juvenile and petty and I’ll find you a nice shrub,” Gina said.

“Shrub?!” Greg shrieked. Fenny smothered a giggle into Brad’s shirt and Paul pointed at Greg with a short laugh.

“Look, there’s a nice little clutch of shrubs,” Gina announced, slowing the car. “Go on, do your business. Everyone, let’s all look away so Greggy can tinkle.”

Greg looked around the car, horrified, and didn’t move.

“Well if you’re not gonna go, we’ll just keep driving until time to eat, and if your bladder explodes it won’t be our fault.”

“Fine,” Greg barked and opened the door to step out. He cast a glance back at the car and, as promised, they were all facing the opposite direction, so he chose a bush and lowered his zipper. After a moment there was a crunching of tires on loose asphalt, a roar of the dilapidated motor, and he turned his head to see the car speeding away. “Shit,” he yelped as he fiddled with his pants. “Come back here you fuckheads!” he screamed at the retreating figure of the car, though he knew it was no use. “They wouldn’t just leave me out here,” he assured himself. “I don’t think.” The image of Paul and Gina madly pawing at each other flashed in his brain and for a moment he was afraid that they had left him for good so that those two could be together without his interference. “Yeah, well to hell with you too!” he yelled as the car became a small speck in the distance.

He trudged onward with the hopes of catching the others or finding civilization, and kicked at a shrub irritably.

“How long before you head back for him?” Brad asked Gina.

“Oh, I dunno, let him cool off for a while,” she answered.

“Good,” he smiled and leaned Fenny back against the seat.

“This is going too far,” Paul sighed, but they didn’t pay him any notice.

“I wasn’t that bad as a teen,” Gina said.

“Maybe, but you were pretty bad when we were first together,” Paul said, grinning devilishly at the memories.

“You were pretty bad yourself,” she said and pulled him to her for a quick, intense kiss. “We should get back to Greg before he hurts himself.”

“Hurts himself?” Paul demanded. “How’s he gonna hurt himself?”

“Stupid fucking assholes,” Greg grumbled, kicking stones as he went. “Liked it better when everyone was angry with each other.” He kicked at another loose rock, only it wasn’t loose. “Dammit!” he yelped, grabbing his foot and hopping around in a tight little circle.

He noticed the car was approaching again and tried to look calm and collected while inside he was screaming “ouch ouch ouch fuckin’ ouch.” The car did a U-turn and stopped directly in front of him.

“Get in,” Paul barked.

“Why?” Greg asked, folding his arms defiantly.

“Because we don’t want you to die,” Fenny said from the back seat. “Now get in or we’ll leave without you.”

“You make a whole lot of sense,” Greg frowned as he got into the car with a lot of awkward actions and slamming doors and kicking seats to indicate he was not pleased. Gina started the engine again and they were off down the road.

Fenny woke gasping for breath, Brad holding her in his arms against his chest. “Fen, what’s wrong?” he said, staring down at her with wide, concerned eyes.

She swallowed deeply, looked around to see she was still in the van, it was starting to get dark outside, and Ritza was nowhere to be found. She collapsed back against Brad and sighed. “Bad dream.”

“You wanna talk about it?” he cooed.

“No, I—I don’t even remember it, really.”

He still looked worried but kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair for a few minutes to calm her. Fenny couldn’t help but frown at the memory of the dream. Why was the prospect of marriage so frightening to her? She was over 30 now, madly in love with the perfect man, all set to move in with him and have a life together, why would a ring and a piece of paper do this to her? He couldn’t actually still be considering Ritza, could he? That night in the hotel room, that had been a biological reaction, not an emotional response…

“Look, there’s a place,” Gina chimed and pulled in to a small restaurant. “Who’s up for dinner?”

Everyone wandered out of the car and headed for the door. Fenny paused a minute to rub the sleep from her eyes and take in her surroundings. Just another little town, same as all the rest. Down the road was a gas station, across the street was a hotel with a few cars in the parking lot. “Hey Paul,” she gasped, grabbing for his arm as he passed her. “Look over there.” She pointed into the parking lot.

“Yeah, okay, and?” he prompted.

“Does that look like Ritza’s car? The one the heavies were driving that followed us when we went over the cliff and died?”

“You’re sure you’re ok Fen?” Paul asked.

“Just look at the damn car,” she demanded. Together they crossed the street and inspected the car. “Is it?”

“Well it’s kinda hard to miss the bullet holes,” Paul hissed.

“Ok, no need to get smart. What do we do, Ritza’s here.” Fenny was beginning to panic. First the dream, now the car…all she could think was, ‘I want to go home.’

“You wouldn’t happen to have some paper and a pen, would you?” Paul asked after a minute.

“What? Why?”

“Trust me. Do you?”

“Well, all the paper I have has been drawn on,” she said, reaching into her long-forgotten back pocket to pull out a stack of hotel stationary. “Not too useful.” As she flipped through the sheets, she came across the old brandy label. “This?”

“Fine.” He took it from her and opened it across the hood of the car. “Pen?”

“Oh, right.” She reached into the other pocket. “Never thought being a doodler would come in handy.”

He took it from her and began scribbling. “What’s her last name?”

“Crispin.”

“How do you spell it?”

“No idea.”

“Great.”

“You’re writing on a label that came from a booze bottle,” Fenny reminded him, “your spelling isn’t going to be expected to be perfect. I’ve stopped making sense, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but that’s ok.”

She read over Paul’s shoulder as he wrote: Crispin – We know what you’re up to. Stupid of you to risk yourself and your toad of a sister for a man. We’ve got your precious Brad Sherwood, and you’ll never get him back.

He took the hastily scribbled note and attached it to the windshield of the car. “What’s with that?” Fenny asked. “Who’d kidnap Brad?”

“She’s a psycho mafia bitch,” Paul shrugged. “She’s gotta have an enemy somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Fenny mused. “You think it’ll work?”

“They’re not exactly Mensa material,” Paul said and grabbed her hand to lead her back to the restaurant. “Let’s go get the others, we should get outta here in case the sinister siblings get peckish.”