[h2]”Travis. Abby Travis” - (Part 4)[/h2] [img]https://i.imgur.com/nalNq9e.jpg[/img] The lorry bumped and bounced its’ way across town. Pensacola was lit up like a jewel, her streets full ‘o’ sailors, deckhands an’ fisherman all bent on that last hurrah before tomorrow’s King Tuna season took ‘em all out to sea. Slow goin’ fer tha lorry, which crept up Palafox Street through gaps opened by partiers or police. “So hey,” Thomas said, “while we’re makin’ such good time, you got any other places you need stoppin’?” Abby thought on that a minute. Vodka done wore off, leavin’ her a tired brain what didn’t like the details. “Ummmmmm...yeah! Yeah I do,” she come around. “Know where there’s a toy store...or an arts ‘n’ crafts?” “Not at this hour.” “I figgered. Bookshop?” “All that stuff closes at nine,” he took a wide berth around a knot of folk standin’ in tha street. “Whatcha lookin’ for? She thought on the last three items of her list. “Sticky putty,” Abby said, “fer puttin’ photos an’ posters up. Tha second Mei Lin book, now yah ruined tha first,” she give him a playful shove. “Hey!” he recoiled. “Not my fault you’re a slow reader. What’s next?” “Chalk. They sell it in big tubs fer kids tah make pitchers on tha sidewalk.” He turned his head for a moment. “Oh yeah? And what’s ‘Travis-Abby-Travis’ gonna do with that?” She caught that crooked smile, that sidelong glance, and it struck her all right. “I like drawin’ chalk pitchers...on tha bulkheads in mah room. On my last boat, Uncle Bob...tha Cap’n...used tah let me go EV in tha black. I’d draw whatever I wanted on tha hull. Never bothered him, so long’s he didn’t need tah turn around ‘cuz I fell off.” “And didja?” He’s all intrigued now. “Ever fall off?” “No, dumbass,” Abby frowned afore her knuckles rapped soft agin’ his forehead. “I ain’t never fell off. Knock on wood,” she broke out a grin. “So what do you draw?” he asked, “Outside, on the hull?” The girl shrugged. “Lots ‘o’ stuff. We’s goin’ tah Greenleaf. Our pilot’s a barefoot...a native, She might lemme come along when she goes inta tha jungle. So I’ll most like draw what I see. Hopin’ fer a big snake, or mayhaps a puma.” “Deathwish much?” Thomas cocked an eyebrow. “So, if you had chalk, what would yah draw after Pensacola?” Abby smiled. “That’s easy. A bigass birthday drink,” she chuckled. “That pilot friend’o’ mine? She gimme this beautiful shell what I’m gonna put up in my room. I got plans fer drawin’ around that….an’...I dunno...mayhaps the look on yer poor dog’s face when I’s standin’ in his bowl!” She laughed at the pitcher in her head. He joined in. “You got a cortex? I so want pictures of what you draw!” “Can’t afford that jest yet,” Abby tossed her hair with a shake of her head. “But if’n them denims I bought really do 'wear like iron' as yah say, I’ll save muh way up to one a might quicker.” “Oh they’ll last. And I think those new ‘unders’ of yours are bulletproof,” he quipped. “Serious, though, the moment you get one, look me up. You send me what you draw, and I’ll send you pictures of boats, dolphins, me striking heroic sailor poses, you name it.” She’s fixin’ him with a fond smile. “Sounds good. I want pitchers ‘o’ yer boat, when she’s sailin’.” “That’s a given. Hey,” he turned toward her. “How’d you like to go sailin’ tomorrow? I’ll take you, if you want.” “Oh, I want. I want alot,” she nodded kinda sad. “But we’s castin’ off ourselves. Always work tah do aforehand. ‘Less I git fired or stuck in muh room fer sneakin’ out tahnight.” He give her a quizzical eye. “You did that? Just to return General Chavez’s stuff?” “Conjured she needed it.” The girl looked out the window as they drew near the spaceport. “An’ cuz I liked her.” “Never met ‘er,” he said. “Just did my job. No questions.” Abby thought on that. This palaver had tha lead spy scowlin’ at her in her head, but she weren’t carin’ much. They just had a minute left...an’...she found herself thinkin’ all manner ‘o’ ways to say goodnight. “Well, that’s muh first ever piece ‘o’ shady work,” she offered. “How’d I do?” “Great! You did great, Travis-Abby-Travis,” he smiled. “But seein’ as it’s my first time also, I may not be fit to judge. Thinkin’ about buyin’ a nice suit an’ learnin’ to drink martinis, though!” She played along. “Should I git one ‘o’ them ‘Carmen Sandiego’ hats an’ some sunglasses? Our First Mate says I need tah learn ‘dik-chun. That’d prob’ly help.” Thomas steered ‘em through the gates inta tha port. “I play guitar...no, not great,” he stilled her question, “but I learned enough tah know that you gotta tune ‘em different ways for different kinds ‘o’ music. I like your tunin’, Abby.” They drove on fer a spell, quiet as row upon row of spacefarin’ boats slipped past the side windows. Soon enough, the headlights splashed over China Doll. She’s buttoned up fer tha night, personnel door locked an’ secure. “I’m kinda sad to see tonight end. But at least,” his face took a wolfish grin, “I got into your denims, huh? Oh wait,” he teased at her sudden frownin’. “Is that glaring, or pouting?” “Both.” The lorry shuddered to a halt just shy the ramp. Abby waited as Thomas jumped down to help ‘er. “Alright...careful..” His hands on her waist, hers grippin’ his biceps as he lowered her to the ground. Once her feet touched, somethin’ happened tah stop her breathin’ altogether. Neither one let go. She’s lookin’ intah his eyes, seein’ somethin’ build behind ‘em. And she wanted...what did she want? “Thank yew, Thomas,” she finally come out. “Don’t conjure ever laughin’ so much all at one time.” “You know?” His tone went sorta wistful. “I was just thinking the same thing. Thank you back, Abby.” They ain’t let go. He’s right here, an’ that look in his eye? Excited? A little scared? Her heart’s like tah bounce right outta her chest. What’s tah stop ‘er? He ain’t the first boy she’d ever thought on kissin’, an’ this time ain’t no Uncle Bob about tah raise all hell over catchin’ ‘em. His hands still on her waist. Now or never. No question what she wanted. She’s gon’ do it. Easiest thing in tha ‘verse tah go up on tiptoe, lean toward ‘im an’... “I should head in,” Abby said. Thomas withdrew. “Yeah...I need to get back. Dad’s not through crackin’ the whip yet. But…” a sparkle ‘o’ wit gleamed in his eye, “at least you can say we had really good socks, [i]dohn mah?”[/i] She drew back, fightin’ the laugh what welled up. “Who writes yer jokes?” Abby demanded. “Fire ‘em!” Still, he’s so pleased with hisself she couldn’t play hard-to-be fer long. She give in an’ laughed, but it come with a shove tah his shoulder. “Hey Crabby, next time you’ve got a super secret mission for you-know-who, count me in!” She smiled as he give her the duffel. “Soon’s I git that cortex, we’ll come up’th our own spy code. Then you’ll git proper tired ‘o’ me fer sure.” “Try me.” he give her a last smile, but she seen more in his eyes. “Next time we’re goin’ sailin’!” Thomas exclaimed as he headed round for the driver’s seat. “Sure’n we are. ‘Night.” She walked slow an’ steady as the engine coughed alive. After the door code entered an’ she opened it, Abby turned around an’ give Thomas a final wave. He tapped the horn an’ sped off, the old lorry’s one workin’ taillight showin’ all the way down tha road. She watched fer a spell, til she couldn’t see ‘im no more. She hauled the heavy door shut an’ engaged tha locks. Then, in the dim light of tha empty cargo bay, she kinda deflated agin’ a bulkhead. Best chance she’d had yet...an’ she completely chickened out. “I surely don’t conjure,” Abby whispered all disgusted, “jest how I can be so gorram stupid.”