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serious talent and skill to finish one of those. Hey, wait…” he walked over to the passenger side rear door and put them behind my seat, then he pulled out his wallet. “What do they usually cost?”
    “These are not for sale, buddy.”
    “Geez, that’s not what I mean. Here. Take a look at this.” He passed me a photo with what was most likely his family. “What would you charge to do a painting of this family photo? My mom would love something like this for Christmas.”
    I looked at the picture and realized the best decision I’d probably made all year was accepting a ride from this guy. He was a normal dude. Standing there beside his parents and what was undoubtedly his sister and brothers, he had to be normal. They all looked happy and well-adjusted. The polar opposite of my reality.
    I passed the picture back to him. “To be perfectly honest, Chris, you couldn’t afford it if I told you.”

6
    Chris
    “ M aybe you should spend less time sizing up people and more time just giving a simple answer. Hell, you don’t even know me and you’re telling me I can’t afford stuff?” I think I was at the point where I was ready to call the whole thing off. There seemed to be no limit to this chick’s rudeness.
    “Look, I didn’t mean to piss you off, okay?”
    Well at least she had enough self-awareness to see she’d actually offended me this time.
    “Then what the heck did you mean to do?”
    “My art is a hobby, okay? I’ve never made anything and sold it.”
    “Why? That mouth of yours has got to be perfect for sales.”
    “Cut the sarcasm, Chris. I never tried selling any of my work.”
    “Why the hell not? You’d probably make enough to have a decent car if you did.”
    “I’m not good enough. Like I told you, I just do this for the enjoyment I get out of painting.”
    “Okay. All I’ll say to that is whenever you change your mind, you’ll be rolling in dough. And you can quote me on it when I’m right.” I checked my rearview mirror and saw one of Dad’s tow trucks. “Great. They’re here. I’ll give him the rundown on things.” I paused and smiled, clearing my throat to get her attention. “You just sit there and look pretty…your words.”
    I didn’t give her a chance to answer me. I hopped out and gave the worker the address she’d mentioned, just before she got out of the car with her purse.
    “How much do I owe you?” she asked the driver. He was new in my Dad’s company so I didn’t know his name.
    “It’s taken care of,” I told her.
    “No, no, no. I pay my own way.” She dug into her purse. “How much?”
    I nodded to the guy and he headed back to get the car hitched up. “Jesus, Jo. You’re mouthy, you’re feisty and you’re getting under my skin. Can you at least not be stubborn too? I said it’s fine. Let’s go.”
    “I hate owing people.”
    “Did I ever say anything about you owing me anything? You don’t owe me shit. Now get in the car and let’s go while we still have a shot at making it to Louisiana before tomorrow night.”
    “Okay.” She looked back at her car as the driver hooked up the chains and I was almost sure she’d be crying anytime now. “I’ll miss that car.”
    I shook my head. Who the hell knew why. Still, I didn’t ask that out loud. For all I knew that rust bucket had sentimental value. She’d said her mother died and I wasn’t about to walk into another blunder like that. Instead, I stepped out of the car and took a few pictures of it with my phone before getting back in. “I’ll text you these pics when we stop for gas, okay? Then you can do one of those photorealism paintings of it, just for fun.”
    Awww hell.
    I did it again.
    She started bawling again. I found her the last of the paper napkins my mom had packed, and I drove off. I had to admit, the crying was slightly more appealing than her mouthing off.

    * * *
    I stopped for gas in Junction, at the station opposite where my Dad’s shop was located. It was about