The Red Eyed Favor Part II

Katie Sharp squinted when another lifted truck with LED headlights gave her a free x-ray as it roared past. She tried to blink past the spots. It wasn’t the first time today she’d had her eyeballs flash-banged while inching along the highway taking her out of the Dallas traffic she’d been stuck in for hours

For the next several miles she fiddled with the radio, not finding anything worth listening to. Too many commercials and talk shows with crap jokes and stale laughter. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as her belly started to growl. A quick glance at her gauges told her she also needed gas. Sighing, Katie scanned ahead for the next exit; perhaps even searching to see if her sanity could be at the next off ramp too.

Sure, leaving New Orleans on a whim with no idea where she was headed might be considered stupid to most people. But then, most hadn’t had a literal demon pop out of a book they’d found hidden in their kitchen cabinet...

Shivering suddenly at the memory of piercing red eyes, she cranked the heat up. Logic tried to reason with her; tried telling her she’d had a nervous breakdown, and hallucinated the last 24 hours. But the $20k in her bank account was real. Katie doubted her bank was so generous as to just leave the money in there if it had been a coding error…

Relief filled her when she saw the exit marker accompanied with the sign for the nearest truck stop. Her car puttered into the next available pump between a battered white pickup truck, and a flashy yellow sports car.

Several minutes later, she was perusing through the snacks after coming out of the bathroom. Katie wasn’t in any hurry to get back out on the road, and getting a motel room cost money. She could sleep in her car, with the doors locked, in the illuminated parking lot within view of the workers inside the store.

Hopefully, it would be safe enough...

What did it say about her mentality that she hesitated at shelling out less than a hundred bucks, from over $19,500, for a decent room? Especially since she didn’t have a clue what her next move was. Katie’s only thought was to leave New Orleans. There was no destination other than ‘out’ of the town she’d put all her hopes into. They’d broken apart like the godforsaken levies…

Another part of her argued there was nothing wrong with being frugal with the demon’s money. After all, it would eventually disappear. Sooner, rather than later, the longer it took her to form a plan.

She eyed the candy section of the junk food aisle, frowning as her brain whirred.

Waitressing wasn’t going to offset the fluctuation of expenses, not with the pandemic making restaurants close down left and right. She’d had to beg Doug’s Diner to hire her. Maybe she should bite the bullet and try to get a manual labor job. Sure, the sexist assholes would make her life hell, but they would pay her more than stiffed tips and bites snatched from forgotten plates.

She didn’t even consider college. She’d barely graduated high school. Besides, even if by some miracle she could actually pass, the money she would probably have left over after paying tuition and books would be dismal. How was she supposed to earn a living dumping her thousands into university?

It’s not like these same thoughts hadn’t been running through her head the entire drive...where to go, what to do...what to eat, where to sleep. After spending years too broke to do anything but worry about the bare minimum: rent, utilities, and food; always an endless cycle of robbing Peter to pay Paul paycheck to paycheck. Sudden freedom was heady and terrifying.

Maybe because there wasn’t that much financial independence with the small fortune...not really. Her ex would have blown this money within months on weed, and useless toys like consoles and overpriced nerdy collectables-

She'd been standing in the aisle too long.

“Ugh.” She snatched up a Reese’s, bag of chips, and a 20oz of cherry Coke before heading to the register. It wasn’t healthy or filling, but sugar would be a welcome distraction to her pondering the rest of her life. She had few vices, but highly processed garbage was her favorite. She’d start dieting tomorrow. Sleep in her car tonight; by then, she would have an actual destination in mind.

She would, she repeated to herself as the pimple faced teen rang her up. As soon as she paid, she stalked out to her car to top off her tank. The other two vehicles still flanked her. The dude in the sports car looked like a frat boy that couldn’t accept the fact that college ended thirty years ago. The man with the truck looked about her age dressed in typical Texan attire of Wranglers and cowboy hat, as dirty and dented as his truck. She spied an empty car seat and toys littering the dash. His eyes looked kind yet tired as he gave her a little nod as he closed the fuel cap door with a snap before hopping into the driver’s seat.

Shit, don’t leave me with midlife crises, please…

Of course, he didn’t hear her inner pleadings. Just gave her one of those friendly, neighborly waves everyone and their mama in the south sent strangers they’d made eye contact with as he pulled out, leaving her with the other man.

Ok, just don’t look at him, fill up, pull forward to the parking spot, and lock the door.

She focused on fiddling with her fuel door, hoping for the remaining man to just be normal, get his own liquid dinosaur, and drive on.

“Nice evenin’, huh?”

Panic bubbled as she tried to decide if she should answer him, or pretend she hadn’t heard him. She didn’t want to be rude, but she had that feeling all women get when their instincts tell them something was wrong. However, she didn’t want to assume every man was a predator out to leave her body by the roadside, either.

Not for the first time in her life, she wondered where the line for propriety could be cut off for the sake of safety. Literally, he’d greeted her in a casual manner no different than the guy in the white pickup. On the surface he’d done nothing to warrant suspicion. But there was...something. The way his eyes flicked over her, and then perused all of her things through the non-tinted windows; clearly packed as neatly as possible for optimal storage rather than other passengers. Marking her as the only occupant in the car traveling a long distance. He didn’t look at her and rub his hands together or lick his lips like some vaudeville villain, yet a chill crawled across her back.

Katie gave a lackluster nod and a rictus smile without showing her teeth. Nothing wrong with noncommittal chats about the weather. Nothing overtly fiendish. She was fine, she chastised herself.

“You live around here? Sure is a great place. Kind of tourist trappy for my taste but it is a hell of a view.”

The seemingly innocuous question had cold fear washing over her like a bucket of ice water. Why did men do that? Ask strange women where they lived as a way of making small talk? Didn’t they realize how many alarm bells it set off?

It felt like a trap. If she didn’t answer, she was a paranoid, snobbish bitch. If she was honest...she was setting herself up for God knows what: mugging, rape, murder...

She gave a noncommittal shrug and half hearted agreement that yes, it was very lovely, evening and location left intentionally ambiguous. She hoped it was enough to satisfy him, and that he was finished filling up his own tank.

Surprise, she wasn’t that lucky.

“So you by yourself, huh? Awful lot of stuff packed in there...traveling far?”

Red flags two and three. Dude, why? Why did he have to ask where she lived and where she was going? Her expression had to look strained as she lied, “just yard sale stuff I’m taking to my boyfriend's. He’s got more garage space.”

“Cool, cool” he murmured as he eyed the things packed in the rear seat once more. Clearly not yard sale stuff, she realized too late. People didn’t toss photo albums and live, healthy plants into the ‘sell’ pile. Not to mention the damned suitcases.

Way to go Katie-you're a regular 007...

“Not much of a boyfriend to have you haul all that stuff yourself…” he trailed off as he stared, not at her valuables, but at her. Leered at her, more like.

A sick, conditioned part of her wondered why he bothered. She wasn’t much to look at; wasn’t worth the lecherous gaze. She chastised herself as soon as she finished the thought. Men like him really didn’t care if she was fat unless they were looking for something steady to show off in public.

“You sure are pretty.”

His words made her brain record scratch.

She murmured a quiet ‘thank you’, and turned to stare unseeing at the gas nozzle in her hand as if it took all her concentration. The little meter behind her slowly climbed.

Too slowly.

“Wanna know what I think?” he asked, suddenly standing next to her with his arms crossed in what she assumed he must think was a suave demeanor. Her stomach felt like it was now in her shoes. He crowded her without actually touching her. Again, not yet being so overtly predatory to make it seem reasonable to say something. He leaned against her car like she was sure he’d done countless times when he’d been younger, but the beer gut and receding hairline muted the effect.

"What's that?", she replied in a small voice that frustrated her.

“I think you don’t really have a boyfriend. There’s no reason to lie, I'm not a creep.”

Oh, really?

She wouldn’t have guessed. She fought the sudden urge to roll her eyes. At least some of the fear abated.

“I do have a boyfriend.” she urged, throat closing.

Just leave me alone.

“Yeah?”, he sidled even closer, his shoulder brushing hers now. “What’s his name then?” She inched away, but she’d be damned if he’d chase her from the pump.

Before she could come up with a response, a hand slapped onto the hood between them. A pale, slender, elegant hand…

“She calls me Daddy, and Daddy thinks you’re too close to the lady, isn’t that right, Angel?”

No...

Just...no. He'd said he'd leave her alone. He’d given her the money and she wouldn't have to see him again. That was the deal he’d made with her when she’d unknowingly freed him. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Blood drained further away from her face as she looked up, and up, into those awful red eyes. Eyes that he thankfully wasn’t directing at her. No, he held Frat Man's attention like a snake staring down a defenseless rabbit. He looked exactly as he did 12 hours ago: dark hair slicked back from his sharp, almost elfin features. His expensive tailored suit and pristine oxfords looked so out of place next to her old clunker, and next to her. There was something about the innocuous humanity of the typical truck stop that amplified just how inhuman and out of place he was.

A wolf in a dog park.

The man was smart enough to sense it, and had turned a ghostly shade of white that almost matched the demon’s complexion, and she swore she could smell urine. He swallowed hard, and scuttled away quickly without showing the tall ‘man’ his back.

The next thing she saw was the little car peeling out of the station parking lot with the hose from the pump dangling from the fuel door.

The demon laughed.