“I don’t know,” you reply. “I guess I was getting bored of driving by myself. I mean, the radio’s nice, but it’s better to have someone along to talk to.”
Jessie nods. “But what if I couldn’t talk? What if I was a mute, or something? I could be some kind of freakshow bitch who was born without a tongue, or maybe it got cut out by somebody who raped me.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jessie smiling to herself. “Yeah, maybe my daddy fucked me, and then he cut out my tongue so I couldn’t tell anybody. That would be pretty wild, huh? You’d want to talk and all I could do is grunt at you!”
Suddenly, Jessie sits up and switches on the radio. A static-filled classic rock station starts playing, the music almost swallowed up by the roar of the wind. Jessie cranks the volume and fiddles with the tuner.
“Hey!” Jessie exclaims. “What kind of music do you like? I have some CDs in my bag we can listen to!”
With that, Jessie leans over the front seat and into the back. The denim of her jeans stretches tightly across her rear, making it clear that she’s wearing nothing underneath. You’re aware of clattering plastic noises in the back seat as Jessie rummages around in her things, and then she’s back with a fistful of battered jewel cases with homemade labels.
She fans the CDs out, but you can’t really look at them without taking your eyes off the road. “Come on, pick one!” |