Read Honey Moon for Free Online Page B

again the truck wove toward the yellow line. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and then slammed on the brakes as she spotted the hitchhiker.
    "Honey, what are you doing?"
    "Never you mind."
    She pulled over to the side and climbed out of the truck, leaving the motor running so she wouldn't have to go through all the work of starting it up again.
    She stepped over a torn rubber boot as she made her way down the shoulder of the interstate. The hitchhiker walked toward her carrying an old gray duffel bag.
    She had no intention of endangering Chantal by picking up a pervert, so she studied him carefully. He was in his early twenties, a pleasant-faced boy with shaggy brown hair, a scraggly mustache, and sleepy eyes. His chin was a little weak, but she decided that she couldn't fault him for something that might be more of a reflection of his ancestors than his character.
    She noted the fatigue pants he was wearing with his T-shirt and asked hopefully, "Are you military?"
    "Naw. Not me."
    Her eyes narrowed. "A college boy?"
    "I spent a semester at Iowa State, but I flunked out."
    She gave a small, approving nod. "Where are you on your way to?"
    "Albuquerque, I guess."
    He looked harmless, but so did all those serial killers she read about in Chantal's National Enquirer. "Did you ever drive a pickup?"
    "Sure. Tractors, too. My folks are farmers. They got a place not far from Dubuque."
    "My name's Honey Jane Moon."
    He blinked his eyes. "Kind of a funny name."
    "Yeah? Well, I didn't happen to choose it, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself."
    "Okay by me. I'm Gordon Delaweese."
    She knew she had to make up her mind, and she couldn't afford a mistake.
    "You go to church, Gordon?"
    "Naw. Not any more. I used to be Methodist, though."
    Methodist wasn't as good as Baptist, but it would have to do. She shoved her thumb in the pocket of her jeans and glared at him, letting him see right off who was boss. "Me and my cousin Chantal are on our way to California so Chantal can get a part in a TV show. We're driving straight through and we've got to be there by eight o'clock tomorrow morning or we're going to miss what's looking like our last chance at self-respect. You try anything funny and I'll kick your ass right out of that track. You understand me?"
    Gordon nodded in a vague way that made her think he might not be any brighter than Chantal. She led him to the truck and when they got there told him he was driving.
    He looked down at her and scratched his chest. "How old are you, anyway?"
    "Almost twenty. And I just got out of prison last week for shooting a man in the head, so if you know what's good for you, you won't give me any trouble."
    He didn't say anything after that, just tossed his duffel bag behind the seat and blinked a few times when he saw Chantal. Honey climbed in on the passenger side, putting Chantal in the middle. He worked the truck into gear and chugged out onto the highway. Honey was asleep within seconds.

    * * *
    Several hours later something woke her up, and when she saw the way Gordon Delaweese and Chantal Booker were making eyes at each other, she realized that she had made a big mistake.
    "You sure are pretty," Gordon said, his skin taking on a rosy flush beneath his tan as he gazed over at Chantal.
    Her elbow was propped up on the back of the seat and she was leaning toward him like a cottonwood in the wind. "I admire a man with a mustache."
    "You do? I was thinking about shaving it off."
    "Oh, no, don't. It makes you look just like Mr. Burt Reynolds."
    Honey's eyelids sprang the rest of the way open.
    Chantal's voice was breathless with admiration. "I think it's exciting how you're hitchhiking all over the country just so you can experience life."
    "I figure you've got to see everything if you're going to be an artist," Gordon replied. He pulled into the left lane to pass an old clunker that was making nearly as much noise as their pickup.
    "I never met a painter before."
    Honey