Abby and Ryan and my Rolls Royce

For a short-lived moment my life turned into an opera buffa. If you don't know what that means then fucking google it. 

I unlocked the door to the shed that held the inherited car. I swung the door open, my left hand dying from holding the crate of guns'n'milk. 

And right there, right in front of our fucking eyes, Ryan and Abby were doing the do, in my expenisive car, my old-timer worth a fortune. The note that came sqealing out of Abby's mouth as she saw us enter was worthy of the Voice and the expression that Ryan pulled worth an Oscar. I was not about to leave. Their fault if they forcinated in my shed. I clapped my hands and shouted come on, get on out of here! 

I carried the crate to the back, Fred joined me. Abby hastily tried to cover her naked breasts using her hands, lucky for her she wasn't too busty. We set the crates down. 

I turned to the intruders. Fred had managed to strample his way into his jeans. Both of their faces were bright red. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't fuck in my fucking rolls royce anymore." I said but I couldn't keep myself from smiling. Fred was snickering next to me. 

There is an odd pleasure in seeing other people be humiliated; call me sadistic, maybe I am. "And how did you guys even get in here, I thought I had the only key?" 

"There was always a third key." The breath-taken way Ryan said it (he was struggling to fit into his flannel shirt) made it so dramatic that I burst out laughing. He fumbled in his pocket and threw it towards me. I caught it in my left hand and pocketed it. 

"Alright you two lovebirds. Get the fuck out of my shack." I shooed them out. Fred and I watched them hurry across the farm. They were obviously ashamed. I didn't think it was too bad, because it wasn't. They'd learned their lesson and they'd be able to laugh about it soon enough. I turned to Fred again and the smile dropped from my face. "Don't think I forgot about how you lied to Chris, Fred. I don't hold anything against you, but I am going to tell him. It just ain't fair not to." 

The opera buffa disappeared and was replaced by a normal day in farming life. I weeded the crops, Fred and Ryan watered them, Martin sat outside reading an old book I didn't care to further investigate and Abby and Albert were inside cooking up dinner. 

My mind wandered to Joline more often than I'd ever thought it would. She was just a girl, a woman, a prostitute, why was I caught up on her? Did she symbolize home for me? Had I become so used to her that I'd have to get used to not having her? Was it habit? Or was it love?

The dinner bell called me in. I put my rake in the shed, locked it up after Fred and Ryan put their tools in, and we all headed off to dinner chatting.

It smelled amazing. There was mashed potatoes with sheeps milk, there was a big hunk of meat, probably deer and a large salad. Martin toasted to us, to God and to the neighbor Chris with the sheep. 

After I'd spent about ten minutes silently shoving food into my mouth I wiped the sides of my face with my clothed napkin and joined the conversation by pitching an idea, or rather, a question. "Do ya'll have any gasoline?"

"Why do you ask? Is there somewhere you need to go?" Fred asked me. I shrugged and mumbled something about just wanting to know. 

"We have some, but not much. It'd be enough to get to NYC, but probably wouldn't get you back." Albert said before shovelling a spoon-full of deer into his mostachioed face. 

"And is the rolls the only car we wave?"

"Yep." Fred piped up. I nodded my head slowly, connecting the dots. I could get to NYC, get Joline, leave the car and walk back with her. So the whole jounrey would be about as dangerous and long as the way here. That made it very possible. 

I could also try to go back to the gas station that the mafiosi had been at. Maybe they had a back-up generator that would allow me to get some gas. And then, maybe, I could even drive home and not lose the beauty of a machine.

But that was all still just speculation, idea, and planning. The future could wait another few days. Joline wasn't going to disappear from one day to the next. At least - I hoped not.