The Mission: Part 2
Pablo
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A brazenly loud thunk, and the sap-filled barrels jolted and bumped in the truck's container. Pablo stilled himself, gripping the seat's chapped leather. It was finally over. Couldn't get out of there soon enough.
The ride felt like they'd been tossed around like human salad in the eye of a hurricane. Probably just Garrett's driving. Too bad. Pablo would prefer a storm to this shit.
A human-sized rat with pointy tits let itself on. Looked like something a circus tent threw up.
In other words, Cass.
Claiming Pablo's seat by Sansi.
'Fuck Pablo' was right.
He hid behind barrels that had been tightly crammed in. Not sure why they brought barrels, but now he was surrounded by truck fumes and pine piss. Legs squeezed so tight into the space between barrels that his balls hurt.
Made it hard to keep up the sleeping act. Could have drifted once or twice, but the truck wall beat the shit out of him with every bump and thud. Like the cocksucker driving was doing it on purpose.
He wished he could open his eyes. But that low-life prima donna, Cass, was staring at him. Made him check himself. He wasn't drooling, snoring, or farting a windpipe solo of the national anthem. Was it his face? He hadn't washed off the sweat or shaved the stubble. Still. He was the best-looking man in the room. The only man in the room.
If only she were ogling him.
But she wasn't.
Her loss.
Cass laughed at something Sansi said. Sounded like a bird you heard in the morning, and wondered what the fuck it was.
Goddamn Miles. Would have been nice to have a warning.
Hey Pablo, Cass is coming.
Maybe then he could've mentally prepared. What to say. How to act. He could have maybe kicked her out of the truck. But pissing was out of the question. Barrels were in the way.
That dipshit probably forgot he invited her. Miles was all over the place the last time Pablo talked to him. Mostly about Emi. Pablo at least had the decency to warn Miles of the impending Cass disaster.
Yr girlfrend looks lost in truck
Sent 12:11 AM
Whatever Cass wanted, Pablo probably had answers. He knew Miles well enough to guess. No one knew him better.
But he wasn't going to tell her shit.
Tough luck, cupcake.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Where the hell were they? Garrett's taking too long to unlock the doors. A bead of sweat dripped down Pablo's face. He needed air.
"Yeah, that's how we came up with it. It was all Miles." Sansi said. Her lips kept buzzing like they were in a marathon without a finish line. All Sansi did was mention Miles' name, and Cass looked way too giddy. Gross.
Where everything was rustic and grey, Cass stood out. Her outfit made her look like a deer in flamboyant clothing. An atrocity. A target for depraved men and Supra.
Cass' long black hair was clean and glossy. Pink blouse without holes. Long lashes, luscious lips. She was striking. Beautiful. Disgusting.
She wore the coat too. Sort of. She must have decided it was more important to look like a dumb Miles-sacking bimbo than someone who valued her life. Wore it around her waist like a goddamn skirt.
Pablo watched Cass brush the coat in her lap, like it was dirty. He recognized the stains on the arms. Frey's coat.
The memory was ingrained in his mind. Frey coughing, covering her mouth. Blood spraying on her clothes. They didn't wash out, no matter how many times they scrubbed.
Cass wasn't anything like Frey. Wearing her coat was an insult to her memory. If only Sansi knew she was giving the coat to someone who would tie it to their ass.
Stiff, Pablo tried to stretch his legs, but his foot hit a barrel. Couldn't push it further. Annoying. Whoever thought barrels were a good idea deserved to choke on one.
"Try it!" Sansi said. She was holding something out to Cass, dressed in ghost grey. Barely an outline. Especially in the dark, where only the whites of her eyes stood out.
Probably showing Cass a new ointment she invented. Pablo had been the victim of Sansi's experiments enough times to know that sticking fingers in anything of Sansi's was going to have wonderfully mixed results. Would love to see Cass' reaction to her finger turning purple or getting a rash.
"No, it's okay. Don't worry about me," Cass said. With a stick up her ass.
Sansi prattled on, meeting Pablo's gaze now and then. Like she knew Pablo was paying attention. She gestured in large, sweeping motions, like she was dancing. It was enchanting. Purple flower. Roots were what made you numb. Pretty sure pain relief usually meant poison. Pablo could use some of that cream. He had a mammoth headache. If it worked, it could solve more than one of his problems.
Cass sat there, nodding politely, giving Sansi attention, acting nice. Inexcusable.
Pablo shifted, trying to stretch his arm, but gave up, set it down, and gently tapped a barrel with his knuckles.
Gabbing. Giggling. Gut churning. The smell. The barrels. The company. Were they not feeling how stuffy it was in there? Pablo closed his eyes tightly. Breathed slowly, wincing at the scent of oil from the truck.
His leg vibrated. He lifted his head and peered at his pocket. Heart racing, he slipped his hand inside and took out his phone. A message appeared on the screen.
Miles
she came? can u tell them to tern around??
Read 1:07 AM
A smile pulled at Pablo's face. What an idiot.
No
Sent 1:08AM
Miles
plees i havnt told emi about her yet
heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllllllllpppppppppppppppppppppppppp
Read 1:10AM
Pablo chuckled. This guy was their "fearless leader". Pablo always worried about him getting arrested or killed by Supra. Who'd have guessed women would be his undoing.
Cass' eyes jolted to him. Must've heard. Was all Miles' fault. Fuck. Play dead. Pablo loosened his muscles and let his upper body rag doll into the truck. His shoulder smacked into it, a sharp sting rippled down his spine.
"Hey, Pablo?" Cass' voice cut into Sansi's and made it clear she wasn't listening to her.
Faker.
"Oh. He partied hard. Maybe just let him keep sleeping." Sansi. Fucking goddess.
Sansi kept talking. She was good at that. Pablo turned his face into the cold, metal wall. Felt nice until it warmed. Didn't stop his head from spinning or his stomach from turning. He peered down at the phone he held loosely in one hand. The message was already typed. Just needed to hit. Send.
Tell her
Sent 1:12AM
He waited in silence. Nothing from Miles. Still, Cass looked at him, like she expected an answer.
"Pablo?" She asked again. "Are you messaging Miles?"
Damnit. He was too obvious. He tilted his head back and dropped his jaw to the most unattractive mouth gaping the world had ever seen.
His breath snagged a few times on air that wouldn't come. His back was wet with sweat. So was his seat. It was too hot. It felt too tight in here. Couldn't breathe. If he couldn't get out soon, he was going to fly off the handle. Kick the truck doors down if he had to.
His phone started to slip from his grasp. He quickly tucked it into his pocket.
Just a little longer.
He breathed deeply.
Quietly.
Counting the seconds.
Thunk. Skreeeeeeeeee.
The truck's metal doors creaked open.
Fucking earned.
*** Character-specific extras included in post author's note*
Dead Weight continues in the next one.
Thank you for reading!
[Extra] Pablo's Survival Tips:
Rule #5: Waking up problems. If you wake up with bad breath and a wet pillow, you might want to stop eating French onion soup in bed.
Rule #76: Sansi's Ointments. To avoid possible damage to your skin or death, accept Sansi's weird lotion experiment, but don't use it. After a week, if Sansi doesn't get sick or have a rash, don't be an asshole. Try her stupid cream.
Rule #159: Staring. When someone won't stop staring, they might find you attractive, disturbed, or just confused why a grown adult is picking their nose. But if they're staring because you're their only link to their boyfriend, do the poor guy a favor and take out the trash. Give her something else to stare at.
