Caustic youth. Frozen in Hell. On the road in all the right ways.

She was wiring him five hundred dollars. I walked a few feet over and checked out a bum I had seen in the same position that morning. I nudged him with my shoe. He cursed and rolled over. Simon saw me coming back and hung up with her. He looked up at the hotel and at the people in front of the bar, the bums sleeping on the sidewalks across the street. Stepping over them had become second nature. It was over 100 degrees.

“Jesus. I feel like I’ve died and gone straight to hell.”

“This was one of the blueprints.”

We cut across the street. A car drove by and saw us walking into the hotel. The car slowed down and a college kid stuck his meaty head out:

“Fucking faggots!”

Simon reached down and held my hand. We walked into the hotel. Tommy looked at us.

“Five bucks.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy. This is my buddy from Phoenix.”

“Still five bucks.”

I paid the five bucks. Tommy looked Simon over. He put out his smoke and lit another,

“Where the hell’s he gonna sleep?”

“I’ll set him up in the east wing.”

“How long’s he here for?”

“Two nights or so. Fuck off, man.”

“Five more bucks.”

“I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

He grunted at me. Behind us a bum was throwing up just inside the door. Tommy yelled,

“Goddamnit, Clyde! You’re going to clean that shit up this time!”

I looked at Simon,

“The ballet continues.”

We walked up to my room. There was barely enough room for one person and a pair of shoes. It was the size of a closet.

Simon looked at my typewriter on the window sill,

“Been writing?”

“Not in a week or so. I’m pretty sick of it here.”

“It’s a bit much.”

We laid on the bed and listened to the street. I passed out cold. When I woke up Simon’s face was buried in my back.

“Simon. Get up.”

He rolled over and sat up.

“Fuck, how do you stay here?”

“I don’t think about it.”

“Where’s the pisser?”

“Make a right down the hall to the end, then make a left. Do you have to shit?”

“Not now.”

“Good. They don’t stock the toilet paper.”

“It gets stolen?”

“Anything not tied down around here gets stolen. And put your shoes on. Syringes.”

He walked out. I sat up and wiped my sweat on my sheet. That poor sheet.

He came back in. I tied my shoes.

“I’ll take you down to get your money.”

We drove the Mailbu up Western where it turns into Main. We passed the university and the coffee shop.

“Any pussy around here?”

“Yeah but it’s not worth the trouble. This place is fucked all around.”

He picked up his money. Halfway down the hill the Malibu let out this human scream and died. There was a line of cars behind us. I shoved it in park and set the emergency brake. We walked down the hill. People were yelling at us. We sat in Church’s Chicken and had a root beer. Simon counted his smokes and set them on the table.

“You know, man. I’m wondering about this Sarah girl, this whole deal.”

“What do you mean?”

A guy walked by the window. He was tall and big. He had pale skin and a derby cap. He looked in the window at us and kept walking. Simon stared at him. Every now and then a psycho would walk the South End looking for some action. Simon looked down to his smoke and watched the guy walk off. I took a drink from my root beer,

“Maybe she likes you. How much bullshit did you lay on her?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“When you transverse North America to go to her place she isn’t going to take it another way besides you liking her.”

He didn’t say anything. A tow truck rolled by with the Mailbu. We sat there for a few hours. It was dark. We headed down Western. Outside of the gas station my brother walked out with a swollen eye. It was puffed up and purple and closed. He saw us. He was loaded.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Car took a shit on us. You going back home soon?”

“Hell no. I’m going to find that son of a bitch that slipped me this mickey. I know where he ran to.”

I was going to ask him for the house key, but I could tell it was going to be another night of hell at the house.

“All right, Bob. You be careful.”

“You go do what you have to do. I’m gonna do what I have to do.”

He took off. I looked at Simon.

“We can try Karen’s. I haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably home.”

“Doe she have a new boyfriend?”

“I don’t know.”

We walked to the house. I knocked. She opened the door and stared at me.

“Hi, Karen.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re stranded. This is Simon, my buddy from Phoenix.”

“Get out of here.”

Simon laughed. A big guy with a mustache appeared behind her. He pushed her out of the way and tackled me. We fell down the steps and rolled into the yard. I pushed him off. Simon was right next to me. He started walking over to the guy. I grabbed his arm.

“Fuck it, Simon. Let’s go.”

The big guy ran behind us and shoved Simon into the bushes. Karen watched from the porch. We had broken up because she had changed overnight. She wouldn’t talk to me or sleep with me. Now she had hooked up with this loser. He’d never leave, her or the town. The mustache grabbed me again. This time I dug an elbow into his ribs. He backed off, and I turned around and dropped him. Karen ran off the porch and jumped on my back. The neighbors were watching. She was hitting me and biting me, calling me everything under the sun. Simon pulled her off of me. She stood there screaming and balling:

“GET OUT OF MY LIFE! JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE!”

We walked off. Simon lit us a couple of smokes.

“You can always try Connecticut with me.”

“I’ve been there a few times. That’s your deal.”

“You’ve been to Denver, too. Living with Roll’s gonna get bad. You know how crazy that cocksucker is. The dude drinks like a fish and he never sleeps.”

I thought about me by myself on a bus heading west. It’s how I wanted to leave.

“And if you go east with me, we can hit the city for a while. I know a couple of girls in Brooklyn. When the weather breaks bad we’ll head out west again. I’ll buy the tickets. Man, fuck this life.”

At the hotel I packed my things. I only had some folders with my writing and a few sets of clothes. I saw my typer on the window sill. I had bought it for 6 dollars at the thrift store, and the H key was busted. I tipped it over the sill and watched it break down there. I couldn’t help but feel like going with Simon was a mistake, but I hardly had the money to do anything else. And he was right about Roll. I’d known Roll a long time, and Simon had actually made some sense. I left my brother a message and told him I’d see him in a few months. Before Simon bought the other ticket I made him call the girl and ask her if I could go along. He held the phone out.

“She wants to talk to you.”

I put the phone to my ear.

“Hello.”

“So you’re the famous one.”

“Come again.”

“Simon’s told me a lot about you. You’re the writer, the next writer.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“Things get bad in Peoria?”

“They’re alright. It’s time to move on. Do you have enough room?”

“God, yes. One thing I have here is room.”

Her voice sounded weird. There was something about it.

“Why don’t you come on out with him?”

“I’ll go along. Maybe there’s a job around there somewhere.”

“Don’t count on it, but don’t worry about it.”

“All right. Here’s Simon.”

He took the phone and told her when we were showing up. She was picking us up at the station.

We got the backseats. The bus pulled out and headed east. Simon looked back, “There it goes, man. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Nope. It’s an illusion.”