Jolie drove a beautiful black 1979 Porsche 911; it was two years old but looked brand new. I was shocked when she slowed down and pulled over about 100 yards beyond me. After a month of riding in mostly pick-up trucks, Volkswagen vans and Oldsmobile’s driven by salesmen, I felt like I had hit the lottery. My only concern was whether my backpack would fit anywhere inside that sleek European body. I picked up my pack and ran down the dirt shoulder to the car. When I opened the passenger door and peered in to check out my latest driver, I decided that even if I had to leave all of my worldly belongings on the side of the road, I was taking this ride. “Where ya headed?” asked Jolie, as I stared in disbelief. “I’m uh, uh, headed north towards Nashville” I stammered, upset that I may have made my destination too narrow. Narrowing the destination was a trick I used to turn down a ride I was leery of. Although the better strategy was for me to be the first one that asked, “where are you headed”, and if I sensed any danger in the fleeting moment when the driver responded then I would politely refuse the ride, stating that I was not headed towards that place. Of course, the whole concept was silly, since anyone traveling the same direction as I was, had to be going at least some distance towards my destination. Still, it usually worked. “Well, ain’t that a coincidence, I’m headed for Nashville myself”, came the singsong reply. Floored by her beauty, I said and did nothing. An awkward silence followed then Jolie said “Well throw your pack in the back, honey, and get in”. I did exactly as she said. The front leather seat flipped forward giving me just enough space to scrape the knuckles of my right hand as I attempted to place my backpack gently in the cozy back area, and I say area because I can’t imagine it could be a seat. My pack fit but only after being contorted into a shape never imagined by the manufacture. I wondered what type of people could possibly fit in the back seat of this car, or maybe the German engineers had a strange sense of humor, one that you had to be there to understand. Confident that my pack was secure enough to remain in its position, I crawled back out and hopped into the front. It was surprisingly comfortable. A few moments later we were cruising through the wooded back roads of northern Georgia and southern Tennessee. “I wancha to know I don’t usually pick up strangers, but somethin rang in my head when I saw ya standing at the top of that hill. It was like a voice from the heavens spoke to me and said ‘now look here Jolie, that boy needs a ride and you need to give it to him’. I had no control after that, the car seemed to slow down and stop on the side of the road all by its lonesome. Then you opened the door and well, you know the rest - and I just keep on rambling and I don’t even know your name. I’m Jolie, Jolie Jackson.” “Um, hi I’m Sam, Sam Sampson. I appreciate you giving me a ride for whatever reason.” “You are a sweetie. Now, I hope you don’t mean me no harm, cause I’ve been through a long day already. Oh but you couldn’t mean me no harm, not with a sweet innocent face like yours.” Goddamn, I loved the way she talked. “Trust me, Jolie, harming you in any way is the furthest thing from my mind. I can’t believe anyone could ever want to hurt you.” “Well aren’t you a sugah. Listen sweetie pie, you’re a bit young now but someday you’ll run into people that’ll do things even the cousin of Satan would find frightenin.” I was definitely younger than she was but not by more than five years or so. But she was right about the cousin of Satan thing. Because while she spoke, it took all my efforts to stare out of the front window in order to avoid the embarrassment of being caught ogling her breasts. Not to mention her long shapely legs. “Look out!” I screamed. Jolie snapped her head back to look and slammed on the brakes at the same time. What looked like a giant dog but turned out to be a small black bear lumbered across the road as we skidded onto the rocky shoulder. The bear seemed unconcerned and meandered into the thick forest without the slightest thought of apologizing or saying thank you. All I thought about was Jolie’s bouncing breasts. “Oh my God! Are you OK honey? I am so glad you were paying attention. God dammit was that a bear?” “It looked like a bear to me” I said, then hearing something odd, I went on, “Hey what’s that noise?” Jolie and I listened to a sound that sounded like air rushing out of a tire, unfortunately it was air rushing out of a tire, one of our tires. She looked at me and I stared back, careful to focus at eye level, beautiful blue-eye level. “Well Sam, we have a bear nearby and a flat tire, do you wanna hold the gun or put on the spare?” “You have a gun?” I exclaimed. “C’mon Sam dear, you change the tire and I’ll stand guard, I ain’t met a bear yet I can’t handle and besides I don’t think I could change a tire in these high heels.” She unlatched the trunk from inside and got out of the car and walked to the front of the Porsche. She opened the trunk then reached in and pulled out a long rifle that looked like it was for hunting elephants. It was a sight I will never forget. Jolie stood about five foot ten inches tall with the long shapely legs of a professional volleyball player. Her long golden hair glistened in the sun as she held the gun in one hand and leaned against the side of the Porsche with the other, posing like a model on a mechanics calendar. If that bear did come back and it was a male, I was absolutely sure he would stand on his hind legs, make a peace sign with his paws and say “hey Jolie, let’s make love; not war”. I searched around in the trunk and found the spare tire and the jack bolted in under a pile of multicolored ribbons. I pushed the ribbons aside, deciding not to even inquire what they were for, and disengaged the spare tire and the jack. Jolie guarded intently as I jacked the car up and down and changed the tire. “You know Sam, I guess we should consider ourselves lucky, what if we had hit that bear? We could have been hurt or maybe even killed. I would’ve hated to see blood spewing from that pretty face of yours, especially if that blood splattered on my clean leather seats.” I thought she was joking about that last part, but I wasn’t sure. I continued to loosen the bolts that held the flat tire in place. “You are doing a great job, Sam, maybe I can get you a job as a mechanic once we reach my home town.” “No thanks”, I said, “I’m really not that good with my hands, and being a mechanic isn’t what I want to do with my life. Plus I’m not looking for a job, I’m just traveling around the country until I run out of money or I get bored.” “Oh c’mon now, I’ll bet you’re plenty good with your hands, you just may need some lessons on the proper use, that’s all.” “What do you mean by that?” I asked. Secretly hoping she meant what I hoped she meant. “Oh nothin honey, never mind that, sometimes I just say words without thinkin. So if you don’t want to be a mechanic what do ya wanna be?” “A song writer.” “Really! Why ain’t that a coincidence. Someone real close to me is in the music business and I’m sure he would love to hear some of your stuff.” “Well, I haven’t actually written any songs, just some lyrics.” “So you’re a poet then, how wonderful! What kind of poetry do you write?” “Mostly big picture stuff, you know, what’s it all about Alfie.” “And what about romantic, erotic love poems about southern women, do you have any of those in your repertoire?” “Um no, I don’t think so” I responded. I’m pretty sure Don Juan would’ve had a better response. “I’m sorry honey I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that you are looking so man-like and handsome changin that tire, and you’re a poet, I just can’t help myself.” I guess I’m a wimp at heart but I didn’t know how to react or what to say, so I just smiled and said “I think the tire is ready.” Jolie laughed, threw the gun back in the trunk and said, “C’mon you innocent hunk, get in the car and let’s get outta here.” I started to place the flaccid tire and the jack in the compact area designed to store these objects, but Jolie said not to bother. “I’ll be getting that fixed tomorra, so there’s no sense makin it difficult to get at. Just move the gun out of the way and throw the rest on top of the ribbons”. And as what seemed to be becoming a habit, I did what Jolie told me. We both got back in the car, Jolie turned the key and with a deep powerful roar the Porsche came back to life. Jolie looked for traffic before pulling out onto the road but there had not been a soul pass us the whole time we were changing the tire and I could only remember two or three cars passing me that whole morning I had been walking. This got me to wondering why a beautiful woman in an expensive sports car was on this road in the first place. “Jolie, Nashville is a long distance from where you picked me up and this road certainly isn’t the most effective route to get there, why did you choose to come this way?” “Sometimes when I’m upset or a little depressed I like to cruise the country roads, especially ones like this, that are isolated and saturated with trees. There’s somethin about it that seems to suck out all of my worries and cares.” “I can’t believe you could be depressed, you seem so free and easy,” I said. “Most of the time that’s true, Sam, and Lord knows I’ve had the charmed life of a fairy tale princess but whenever I visit my brother in Atlanta I can’t help but get a little depressed. My brave, intelligent, creative, loving big brother lives in a group home that specializes in the care of schizophrenics. We were so close growing up, he’d do anything for me, and heaven help any kid that would try and hurt me. Once he even saved my life when I had fallen off the swing set in our backyard. Somehow the impact from hitting the ground caused me to swallow my tongue. I couldn’t breathe and others that were there said I was turnin blue. I was around eight years old and Joseph, that’s my brother’s name, was around twelve, and somehow he sensed what was wrong. He opened my mouth and quickly pulled my tongue out from my windpipe; so I could breathe again. Imagine that, only twelve years old but he knew what to do, he was my Sir Gallahad.” “It’s so hard to see him now, so difficult to deal with the coolness and fear in our relationship, but it’s the disease, the fuckin invisible disease. And I still love him and care for him even though he can’t much relate with me anymore. He lives in the past and is haunted by voices that tell him that I’m evil. Every now and then when the medication works he talks to me like he used to, but it only lasts a few minutes and then the voices take back over and I’m back talking to the evil character in a bad b-movie.” “I guess I get my hopes up every time I visit, and I think that makes it even worse. If he looked or sounded different, or if he always responded with the eerie mask that somehow covers his mind, maybe I could come to accept the situation for what it is. But those few wonderful minutes of clarity always keep me hoping for the permanent return of my sweet brother I grew up with.” Then with a sudden change of tone Jolie perked up and said, “Now how’d I get to ramblin on about that? What kind of mojo are you workin on me, sweet Sammy?” I laughed and said, “I swear Jolie I don’t have any mojo and even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” She smiled and stated, “I am so glad I stopped to pick you up, you just make me feel so good.” I had always dreamed of getting a ride with a woman like this. Gorgeous, carefree, sensitive, and slightly older than me, she could have appeared right out of a Tom Robbins novel. But now that it was real, or at least seemed real to me, I was frozen like a thirteen-year-old kid alone with the young teacher he has a crush on. I struggled to say “and I’m so glad that you picked me up too, I just love being in the same car as you, could you pull over and show me how to make love”, but all that came out was “uhhhh yea, me too”. Jolie acted oblivious to my immature response, but I’m pretty sure she knew exactly how I was feeling, and I think it added to her excitement for what she had in store for me. We drove for two hours on the two-lane highway then followed the signs that would take us to Interstate 65 north to Nashville. We were about one and a half hours from Nashville when we finally reached I-65, and that’s when Jolie asked me where I was planning on spending the night. “If you drop me off on the outskirts of Nashville, I’ll find a farm or a park to set up my tent for the night,” I answered. “What are y’all talkin about Sam? That’s no way to spend your time in Nashville, you come on home with me and I’ll fix you a delicious southern dinner and you can sleep in a soft comfortable bed. Don’t try and talk yourself out of it. It’s settled, no passenger of mine is gonna spend the night outside, when I have a perfectly good empty bed in my home, no siree.” I didn’t argue; I was now a full-fledged disciple of “what Jolie wants Jolie gets”. Most of the rest of the way we listened to bluegrass and country music tapes, sometimes Jolie would break out and sing like she was the only one in the car. I spent most of my time trying to avoid staring at her, but would smile when she caught me and she would smile back without the slightest hint of being uncomfortable about my inquisitive eyes. We exited from I-65 before we hit Nashville, and arrived in a small suburban/rural town called Franklin. Most of the houses sat atop rolling grassy hills surrounded by deep forests of thick trees. Each house seemed to be an estate of it’s own, like miniature replicas of mansions that once adorned the great southern plantations, although up close each dwelling resembled a typical white, two-story colonial with a two-car garage. Jolie’s white colonial home seemed to blend in with her neighbors until I noticed the unique shapes and designs of her shrubs and bushes as we drove up her long cement driveway. Each plant had a life of its own. One was adorned by Mickey Mouse ears at the top and was rooted directly next to what seemed to be a hand flipping the bird, or maybe it was supposed to be a “number one” sign. There were dollar signs, faces and even a bush cut to resemble Jolie’s Porsche. I asked Jolie about it and she told me I was seeing more into it than was really there. As we pulled into the garage I started to feel uncomfortable. Since the beginning of my adventure I had done this a few times, stay overnight in a stranger’s house, but for some reason the possibility of spending a night in Jolie’s house made me nervous. She was so different from anyone I had ever met; she seemed so unpredictable and worst of all she seemed to have this eerie trance over me. What was there to worry about though? At the beginning of this trip, if someone posed the question, “if a gorgeous, free-spirited, woman is willing to pick you up, take you to her house, feed you and let you sleep over - will you do it?” My answer would have been “are you kidding, of course I will do it.” Yet it’s funny how the reality of the situation can arouse different emotions than one expects. But if there is one thing I have learned from this hitchhiking journey, it is to take the next step whenever I feel apprehension about something. Moving and taking action seems to alleviate almost all of my fears. So I wrenched my backpack from the rear and followed Jolie into the house and up the stairs into the room where I would sleep and where I could relax until dinner was ready. I said thanks and Jolie smiled and said “I”ll call you when dinner is ready, and don’t even think about askin to help”. I didn’t tell her I hadn’t even thought about it, I just replied, “OK, thanks.” I laid down on top of the blue and white quilted covers and thought about writing in my journal. Running through the day’s events I thought about the odd circumstances that got me to the road where Jolie picked me up. But mostly, it was Jolie who saturated my mind like air fills a room. She was everywhere but I could not see her or get a feel for what she really was. What was it about her that made me feel so good yet awkward and immature? Lost in that thought I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I remembered was Jolie yelling from downstairs that dinner was ready. Actually it was more like loud singing “Saaaameeee dinner is ready. C’mmmmoooon dooowun.” I became acutely aware of the aroma of warm fresh bread and melted butter; it reminded me of the smell at my grandmother’s house during most holidays. I got out of bed and found the bathroom down the hall where I washed my face and hands in cold water, then walked down the steps towards the enticing fragrance. As I approached the dining area, I felt renewed and more confident, it’s amazing what good nap can accomplish. Jolie sat at one end of a rectangular oak table that could seat six. She had changed into more casual clothes and exchanged high heels for bare feet. In front of her was a plate alive with a feast of food large enough for an NFL lineman. A similar plate overflowing with heaping mounds of mashed potatoes, slices of turkey and steaming vegetables sat at the opposite side of the table. An open bottle of red wine stood in the middle of the table and two full glasses were next to the plates of food. A funky brass chandelier-like light hung over the midpoint of the table. Its funkiness came from the abstract animals sculpted in a merry-go-round fashion and each animal’s eyes containing a small light bulb. There were just enough tiny eyes to create a soft and gentle aura around the table. “Hey there sleepy head, I hope you worked up an appetite”, Jolie beamed, while taking a sip of wine. “Wow, this looks great, I can’t believe you went to this much trouble,” I said as I sat down. “This ain’t no trouble, this is southern hospitality. Now make me proud and clean up that plate or I’ll have to call my momma and tell her some Northerner snubbed her daughter’s cookin. And trust me you don’t wanna be on my momma’s bad side, especially for the sin of not eatin everything on your plate.” “I know I can eat all of this, but where are you going to put all of that food, you’re too thin to be able to eat all of that,” I replied. “Well, well, well,” Jolie sang, “I guess you have no idea who you’re foolin with. Don’t let looks deceive you sugah, have you ever seen what a slithery snake can eat at one sittin. Now I ain’t sayin I’m a snake, although there may be a few people, who know me well, that feel that way, but I can definitely do my share of eatin.” “I’d like to meet someone who thinks you’re a snake, maybe they could explain more about you than I can figure out.” “I’m sure you’ll get to meet at least one of those people, but what’s so difficult to figure out about me? Why I’m just a simple girl from the hills of Tennessee,” Jolie said and then put a fork full of food in her mouth. I matched her fork full and waited until I was done chewing to answer. “I may not understand you but I do know one thing, you’re definitely not simple. You seem unfazed by events, yet sensitive to your brother’s hopeless situation. You’re all woman, but cuss at will and think nothing of handling a gun. You act like my mother one moment and the next moment flirt with me like a teenage girl. You are definitely not simple. But damn, you are a great cook, this stuff is delicious,” I said. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that nap. “So you have some spunk and balls in you after all, I knew it,” Jolie laughed. “You’re right, I guess I ain’t simple. But what about you? Are you really as innocent as you let on?” How could I answer that question? Doesn’t everyone think of himself or herself as “in the know”? I think I was more intimidated than innocent. Thus, not sure what to say, I shot back, “what do you think?” “Well, I think there’s more to you than you let on. Maybe even more to you than you know yourself. Still I may be wrong and you are just an innocent, naïve boy who doesn’t know better than to take rides from strangers.” “Did I tell you how great your cooking is?” I replied. Jolie smiled, a smile that reached out and massaged my private parts and shot fireworks throughout my entire nervous system. This time I could not take my eyes off of her. She looked delicious. Her deep ocean-blue eyes laughed with a paradoxical little girl giggle and a mature woman’s lust for life. She looked luscious. I was starving but it wasn’t for the wonderful southern food on my plate, I wanted to eat her up. We continued to talk and eat and drink and laugh until the wine was all gone and both of our plates were licked clean. Time slipped by and both of us were surprised when the grandfather clock in the living room struck twelve, and like in a fairy tale we were shocked back to reality. “Oh my goodness,” Jolie shouted, “it’s twelve o’clock all ready. I gotta get to sleep, I have an early meetin tomorrow mornin. C’mon Sam, help me get these dishes in the dishwasher. We gotta get some rest.” I was a little buzzed from the wine and very intoxicated from the conversation and company, but I was able to help clean up. Once we had all of the plates and silverware piled in the dishwasher and the table wiped down, the situation seemed awkward. I loitered in the dining room until Jolie said, “there’s fresh towels in the bathroom you can use in the mornin. If I’m gone when you get up, go ahead and fix whatever you’d like for breakfast. I should be back by Noon.” Then she said, “good night,” kissed me on the forehead, and swished down the hall and up the stairs to her room. With the quick response of an elderly slug and the coolness of James Bond I stammered, “Good night Jolie, thanks for dinner.” Then I walked, alone, upstairs and into my room. I undressed down to my underwear and crawled under the covers. I knew immediately that I was not going to be able to fall asleep, the thought of Jolie lying by herself in the room next to mine was too strong a stimulant. My mind and body were a buzz with a million-year-old hormone infested virus that was going to keep me awake all night. What did I have to lose, why not take the chance and ask her if I could sleep with her? We just had a great time together, what was stopping me? I was not sure but for some reason, maybe because she still intimidated me, maybe because she was older than I was, or maybe it just didn’t seem right, what ever it was I couldn’t bring myself to take action. At some point I finally fell asleep. I was awakened by a whisper. “Sam…Sam…wake up Sam…” I heard the voice but I did not open my eyes. Time seemed to run in a dream state but I sensed that I was awake and the voice was real. Still I did not open my eyes. “Sam…Sam…wake up Sam”. This time I lifted my eyelids but only enough to glimpse the moonlight that streamed through the window and a shadow that seemed to block it. “Sam…Sam…wake up Sam”. I opened my eyes. Jolie stood naked, milky moonlight highlighting her lovely high cheekbones, her plump melon breasts and her sculptured long legs. A slight breeze encouraged the thin curtains near the window to dance and Jolies’ long golden hair to gently fly up and down. “Sam, I couldn’t sleep. I want you to get out of bed and dance with me” Jolie whispered and held out her hand. Like a deer caught in the headlights I did not move, nothing on the outside of my body even flinched, but Jesus Christ, on the inside I was exploding. She couldn’t sleep and she wanted to dance naked with me? Another moment went by and without saying a word Jolie picked up the covers and slowly peeled them back to the end of the bed. I remained frozen until Jolie extended her hand once more and I reached out to grab it. I swung my legs around to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed and then I stood up and took a step or two towards her. Jolie held my hand and began to circle around me in a controlled determined manner. I remained facing the window but turned my neck to follow her movement until she was behind me whereupon she let go of my hand. I stood like a hypnotized schoolboy as Jolie inched off my underwear from behind. I remained motionless, standing naked and stiff, aglow in the magic moonlight that poured through the bedroom window. When my underwear lay caught between the floor and my feet, I could feel Jolie’s silky hair brushing against the back of my legs as she gently guided each foot free from my crumpled up briefs. Warm electricity radiated from the spot she touched up through my entire body. Her task complete, Jolie came back around, stood two feet away and stared me up and down. Then she pressed her smooth skin against mine, put her arms around my back and laid her head upon my shoulder. We slow danced around the entire bedroom in silence. No words, no music, only the soft and heavy breathing escaping from each of us. Jolie seemed to be so complex but this side of her seemed to be different altogether. She was like the umbilical cord to the primordial essence of life, the part that is unknowable and unchanging, yet somehow she had a connection. Or maybe my hard on was making me think up crazy thoughts. I cannot recall how long we moved and swayed around the room that night, but at some point Jolie floated us into bed and showed me the true meaning of “what Jolie wants Jolie gets”. I awoke alone, to the sound of running water in a nearby room. Was Jolie taking a shower? Was last night a dream or did it really happen? At that moment I wasn’t sure. I scanned the room for signs but the only clue was my underwear lying on the floor by the side of the bed like a discarded old rag. I was hoping it was a dream because I was not sure what to do next. I was confused. Did this mean I should stop my journey and stay with Jolie? Was I falling in love with Jolie? We knew each other for less than 24 hours and we had nothing in common. She had a house and Porsche and God knows what else, and all I owned was in my backpack. I didn’t even have a job. And what was I to her, did she really care about me? What should I do? And wasn’t she supposed to be at an early morning meeting? Why was she still here? “Good mornin sunshine,” Jolie interrupted my frenzied thoughts. She leaned against the doorframe of my room, her hair dripping and a towel wrapped around her body. She looked like a cute wet puppy dog that just ached to be held and petted. “Good morning Jolie, I thought you had an early morning meeting?” I said in a voice like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Well darlin, after last night I decided to blow off my meetin, cause it just wouldn’t be right for you to have to shower and eat all alone. C’mon and get up and I’ll personally lick you clean myself.” Jolied said, then she purred. She let her towel fall to the ground and stretched her arm out and motioned with her finger for me to come to her. Déjà vu, and what a great déjà vu. I surmised then that the night before had taken place or that this was the greatest extended dream I had ever had. Dream or no dream, I followed Jolie, transfixed on her succulent round behind, into the bathroom, where she proceeded to cleanse me like I had never been cleansed before. Soapy fun, fun, fun! Super duper clean and energized, we both got dressed then we went downstairs to get something to eat. Jolie made two cream cheese omelets, hash browns and wheat toast. She showed me how to place bite sized pieces of the omelet onto the toast and eat it like a sandwich, an old Tennessee technique. I am sure I was influenced by the recent events but this was one of the best tasting combinations I had ever eaten. Nothing could spoil this moment, or so I thought. While we were in the middle of savoring our food, playing footsies, and laughing like kids, the front door burst open. A giant man walked in and with him he brought a tornado. “Hey Jolie, what happened to you this mornin,” the giant boomed, “I had to go look at those empty lots in Jamestown, all by myself.” He paused, then added, “And who is this?” I assumed he meant me. Jolie stopped playing footsies then spoke with the calm of a diamond cutter in the back seat of a Cadillac commercial, “Sorry Jim honey, I couldn’t be a bad host and leave Sam here. I picked him up hitchhikin yesterday on my way back from seein Joseph and I let him stay here for the night. It was just good southern manners to stay and feed him this mornin.” Then smiling at me added, “Sam, this is Jim - my fiancé.” Fiancé? Oh my God did she say fiancé? She had not even mentioned a boyfriend. I started to mutter - “Your fiancé?” but at the same time Jim stepped over to my chair, slapped me gently on the back and said, “Well God dam boy ain’t you the luckiest hitchhiker around. It’s not everyday you can catch a ride with the purrtiest girl in all of Tenessee.” Then he walked over to Jolie, bent down and slopped a big old kiss on her lips. He straightened back up and said to me, “Did she treat you right?” Did she treat me right? Holy shit! Did she treat me right? What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Without his black, ten-gallon hat, Jim stood six foot five inches tall; he wore a sweaty, white, tank top shirt that magnified his bulging chest and softball sized biceps. He also wore leather cowboy boots big enough to kick me all the way to the North Pole and maybe even into outer space. And he wanted to know, if the girl he was soon to marry, the one who had recently demonstrated the meaning of true southern hospitality on me, had treated me right. “I guess so,” was all I could muster. “That’s good, that’s good,” Jim said with a big friendly grin. “Hoo boy, I see she made you her famous cream cheese omelets, you must have done something awfully good to rate that.” “He’s an angel, almost as sweet as you are, sugah pie,” Jolie chimed in, “and he’s a lyricist. Sam, Jim is the friend who’s in the music business.” He was probably a bouncer for the Grand Ole Opry. I was dumbstruck and said nothing. I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into, my only thought was to grab my backpack from upstairs and get the hell out of this insane asylum as soon as possible. I guess true love would have to wait. While I was focused on that thought Jim asked me, “How long you stayin? I only ask cause I could use some help today, movin some lumber on one of my construction sites. And I could pay y’all a good buck if you work hard.” “Yeah Sam, you could help Jim this afternoon and then all three of us could go out for a big Nashville dinner and night on the town. You’d love downtown Nashville,” Jolie chimed in like the three of us were old school chums. Now, I really had no idea what was going on, I thought Giant Jim was in the music business, if so, then why did he own a construction company? And did Jolie want me to stay? It seemed obvious I was just a final fling before getting married, a perfect sex toy that would be in and out of Nashville only long enough to satisfy Jolie’s libidinous desires? But if that was the case then why not let me sneak away and keep Gorilla Jim none the wiser? I was not interested in the answers to any of my questions; I only wanted to get out of Dodge. Finally my instincts took over and I said, “Thanks a lot, but I should get back on the road, I need to get to Louisville as soon as possible.” “What for Sam? You didn’t tell me you had to get to anywhere so soon last night? Why the rush?” Jolie seemed to be loving this game. “Aw one more day ain’t goin to hurch ya pal, I ain’t never met a hitchhiker who had a real deadline anyway. Plus, I could really use a hand, one of my men called off today to take care of his sick kid.” Jim seemed as persistent as Jolie in getting what he wanted. “I really appreciate the offer, but I think I should just get going,” I stated one more time. Then Jolie countered, “Sam, sugah, I can’t let you go without showin you a good time in Nashville, I just couldn’t live with myself knowin you were so close to seein our special little town and we let you get away. Now doncha let Jim scare ya, he’s big - but he’s as gentle as a lamb.” “That’s right pal, I’m just a gentle ole lamb,” Jim concurred. Yeah I thought, except a lamb your size could ask the lion to lie down and the lion would oblige; no questions asked. Yet it wasn’t the giant lamb I was concerned with anymore. It was the slimy, slippery, sensuous snake that had me worried. What was Jolie’s motivation for keeping me here? What other surprises did she have in store for me? I had to admit that besides this last surprise, which was a doozy, the others had been quite pleasurable. Then I thought, what was in it for the original snake when she enticed Eve into biting the apple? What was in it for Adam? What was in it for me? I didn’t think I wanted to find out. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me Jolie, it was more than I could have ever expected, but I really think it would be best if I got going. Thanks for the ride and the food and the comfortable night’s rest; look me up if you ever come through Akron. I’m going to get my stuff and head out.” “But you haven’t finished your breakfast, besides if you really want to thank me you’ll help Jim work today and come out with us tonight. I insist.” Jolie said in her “what Jolie wants Jolie gets” tone. Well this was one time Jolie was going to have to deal with not getting what she wanted. I started to protest one last time when Jim said, “I really need help Sam, I’ll pay y’all $300 if you stay and work today.” Three hundred dollars! Three hundred dollars! Did he think I could be bought for money? I guess so because without another thought I said, “OK, I guess I’ll stay and help today, but I definitely have to leave tomorrow.” After I said it, I felt like I probably would have been better off leaping from a diving board onto a bed of nails. “That’s great!” Both of them shouted in unison. “Where’s that diving board?” I thought. “Now you two get goin and I’ll clean up this mess. Y’all have fun today.” Jolie sang and began clearing away the dishes. Jim and I exited out the front door and walked to his pick-up truck. We passed the funky shaped bushes but this time they appeared less exotic. This time they seemed like regular old shrubs, maybe one or two had a unique shape, but it was more like they had a bad haircut. I wonder if it had anything to do with the magic spell Jolie had cast on me yesterday that now was broken from an ice bucket of reality. It didn’t matter; all that mattered now was to numbly make it through the day, pocket three hundred dollars and then get as far away from Nashville as possible. But as I approached Jim’s truck my senses started to return. Spending the day with Jim and tonight with Jim and Jolie was not worth three hundred dollars – it was not worth any amount of money. I needed to figure a way out of this. “Have y’all ever done construction work before, Sam?” Jim asked before opening his door, breaking my concentration. “I helped a friend build patio decks one summer,” I replied. “Well hell boy, then you’ll do just fine today, you’ll do just fine. C’mon and get in so we can get you to work.” Jim said as he stepped up and into his overgrown Tonka toy. His truck had six wheels, two side by side in the rear, the kind real men drove to handle their overgrown egos or to make sure they didn’t miss once they ran over something – or someone. I noticed the back of the pick up had cargo that was completely covered by a white cloth, like professional painters carry around with them. It seemed odd that there was a cover at all, since it was a beautiful sunny day without a chance of rain. I should have run away at that moment, instead I opened the door and rocked myself up and in, so much for getting out of this mess. We drove for the first five minutes in silence. Behind me, I focused on the three guns in the gun rack, in front of me I focused on the skeleton head hanging from the rearview mirror. A strange sensation of fear, like I was about to turn a blind corner and meet a grizzly face-to-face, pulsed throughout my body. Why was Jim so eager to pay me three hundred dollars for moving some wood around? Why did he want me hanging around for a night on the town with his fiancée? There are times when you know your instincts are correct but the momentum of a situation paralyzes you and carries you forward. At this point the truck was moving, all of my worldly belongings were back at Jolie’s house and the rationalizing part of my brain said “don’t pay attention to those instincts, three hundred dollars will go a long way”. Still, I knew my instincts were correct and I should jump out of the truck and run as fast as I could. “What do you do in the music business?” I asked. Maybe a conversation would help settle my fears, or at least stop me from scaring the hell out of myself. “What are you talkin about, pal?” Jim replied, not quite as friendly as he had been back at the house. “Well, Jolie told me she had a friend in the music business and then back at the house she said you were that friend,” I said. “Oh yay, yay, I sometimes build recording studios for companies, that must have been what she meant.” Jim said. Why would Jolie tell me she knew someone in the music business when I told her I wanted to be a lyricist, and the person turned out to build recording studios? What good would that do for me? And why did gentle as a lamb Jim seem to be searching for words as he responded? He sounded annoyed when he answered, almost like he was angry for having to come up with a reply. Was he lying to me? My instincts were stabbing me in my belly, but I continued to ignore them. “So how long have you and Jolie known each other?” I asked figuring if I wasn’t going to run I might as well try and find out more about this crazy situation I had gotten myself into. “Pretty much all our lives,” Jim laughed when he said this, but I missed the humor. “When are you planning on getting married?” Again Jim seemed to be annoyed by this question, but after a moment’s pause he said, “in about a month”. Holding a conversation with Jim was not helping. He seemed different away from the house, he was more nervous and less sure of himself. What the hell did he have to be worried about, I was the one in deep shit. We traveled for another few minutes and then came upon a construction site for an addition to an existing building. It was a very large addition, at least six to seven football fields of space. Large equipment: bulldozers, forklifts, cranes, and earthmovers zigged and zagged like a colony of ants on a mission. I wondered what role Jim’s company played in the project, I assumed it had something to do with wood framing, but the only activity I noticed in progress was excavation, foundation, and the beginning stages of steel structural work. I scanned the entire area for piles of lumber but as far as I could tell there was as much wood in the construction site as one would find in the Mojave Desert. My instinct alarm went into overdrive and now stabbed me in the belly, in the chest and deep inside my brain. Jim parked the truck just outside the entrance to the site where a sign read “The Johnson Defense Company Building Project”. He opened his door, jumped to the street and walked back to the bed of his truck. I tried to watch in the rearview mirror but all I could see was the white cloth ripple from being disturbed. After Jim found what he was looking for he came up to my door and motioned for me to get out. For the last twenty minutes all I wanted to do was get out of the truck, but now I was feeling safer right where I was. When Jim banged on the window, squinted his eyes, and stared at me like I was a twelve-year-old kid who had just pissed off his, mean-drunk, alcoholic father, I opened the door and got out. Jim handed me a hard hat and a package about the size of a loaf of bread. It was wrapped in remnants from a plain brown paper bag and weighed more than it looked. Jim said, “I forgot somethin back at Jolie’s house that we need to go back and get but first I need y’all to deliver this package to a friend of mine on this job site. His name is George Gilliam; he operates one of them cranes. Just ask around for Gorgeous George, someone will point him out for ya. I’d do it myself but me and the general contractor ain’t on the best of terms and it’s better if I stay out here.” “What if I can’t find him?” I asked. “Doncha worry about that, he’s in there, and almost anyone you talk to will know who Gorgeous George is.” I popped on the hard hat and made my way through the mounds of upturned dirt and the scattered construction debris, avoiding the heavy equipment like a mouse evades elephants. I wondered what Jim had given me to deliver; it seemed too heavy to be southern wacky tobacky, but what if it was cocaine or heroin? I know for certain that it wasn’t something I wanted to be caught with. What could I do though? If I could find this Gorgeous George, deliver this package, then safely make my way back to Gentle Jim, maybe I could figure out a way to get my backpack from Jolie’s house and escape. “Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Gorgeous George?” I asked a tall man with a white hard hat. It seemed to me that the men wearing the white hats were in charge. “Gorgeous George? Why he’s been missing in action for about three days now, and as far as I’m concerned he’ll be missing a whole lot more. Maybe I can help you, what did you need George for?” “I just needed to find him to deliver this package,” I replied. “Is that so? Well I guess you could leave it with me and if I ever see him again I could give it to him.” “Um, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, I mean, what if he never comes back?” I knew I didn’t want to leave this package with anyone other than George. “Oh hell, he’ll be back, he always comes back, and I always let him back, that’s the problem. But you do whacha wanna do with that package, it doesn’t matter to me.” At that moment I decided it didn’t matter to me either, so I gave him the package. When I returned to Jim’s truck, Jim was all smiles seeing that I did not have the package with me anymore, assuming I had delivered it to Gorgeous George. He seemed more vivacious again and less nervous. He turned over the engine, worked the clutch and geared us down the road. “Great job, pal! Was George surprised when y’all gave him the package?” Jim asked. “Well, George wasn’t there so I gave it to a guy that said he knew George and that he would give it to him.” “God dang it, I told her this was a crazy idea. What guy? What guy did you give the package to?” Jim raised his voice but now he seemed more scared than I was. “Calm down Jim, I gave it to his boss, I’m sure it’s someone that can be trusted. Who did you tell this was a crazy idea? Jolie?” “I don’t want to talk about it. We gotta get back to the house. We gotta get back there fast,” Jim rambled and stepped on the accelerator. We sped back to Jolie’s house. When we reached her street we gunned down it and up her driveway, then screeched to a halt. Jim flung open the truck door and ran towards the front entrance. I figured this was my chance to get out of this mess, but my belongings were still upstairs in Jolie’s house. Could I sneak in and collect my stuff and sneak out again? I decided to take the risk, especially since Giant Jim seemed to be more like the lamb Jolie had mentioned. I approached the front door, the screen door was closed but the thick wooden door was wide open. I could hear voices that seemed to be coming from beyond the dining room, probably from the kitchen. If they were in the kitchen I would be able to get inside without them seeing me, tiptoe upstairs and grab my things. I tried to pretend I was an Indian, like in the adventure stories I read as a kid. The Indians could always move noiselessly through the woods, I hoped I could do the same through someone’s house. I turned the knob on the screen door and carefully opened it just enough to get myself through. Once inside I could tell they were in the kitchen and I had a small window of opportunity to pull this off. I started up the steps but found myself paralyzed as the words from the kitchen started to become clearer. “Jolie, what are we gonna do? This ain’t goin right, I told you we shouldanna got this kid involved, now things are real messed up. This was your idea, now what are we gonna do?” Jim was in a panic. “C’mon Jim calm down, everythin’ll be all right. I have us a back up plan. Sam ain’t none the wiser, he’ll still come in handy to get this thing done.” Jolie’s words sent a cold chill down my back. “Whydja have to tell him we were getting married? What was that all about? That just made me more nervous than I already was.” “It just seemed like a fun thing to do at the time. Did you see his face when I said it? I don’t know what gets into me at times but damn I just love bein’ evil. Listen, dear brother of mine, here’s whatcha have to do…” Jolie must have started talking softly because I couldn’t make out the words anymore. But I didn’t want or need to hear more to know what I had to do. Christ, Jim was her brother, or was this Joseph? I found that I could move again so I made my way up to my bedroom where my backpack and clothes lay just how I left them. I stuffed everything in as fast as I could, then started down the hall towards the steps. When I reached the top of the steps, I could hear the voices again, except I could tell they were now coming from the dining room which meant they could see me if I walked down the steps. As quietly and quickly as I could, I locked all of the upstairs rooms and shut the doors. At the last one, Jolie’s bedroom, I locked myself in. There was a balcony out of a sliding glass door in this room with steps leading to the back patio below. I could hear Jolie and Jim at the top of the stairs as I left through the outside door. I knew I did not have to be quiet outside, so I sprinted down the steps, over the patio and into the backyard. There were trees about 30 yards from the house and I thought if I could get to them before they saw me I would be able to get away from this loony family. I ran as fast as I could, my backpack clunking side to side; later I would find bruises on my back and shoulders. I was able to get to the woods unnoticed and did not stop until I was sure I was far enough in not to get caught. I trotted down a slope to a small stream that I could jump across, and then I climbed up a slope on the other side. I stopped when I got to the top and tried to listen for any signs of being followed but my heart and lungs were pounding too loud to hear anything else. I decided to walk along this ridge until I found a good place to descend. I passed a few neighborhoods like the one I had just come from but decided it was not a good idea to appear in a stranger’s backyard; most people seem to not like surprises like that. After about an hour I came to a place where the forest opened to a two-lane country road. Many thoughts flew through my head. Were they looking for me? What if they found me, could they force me to go with them? Did I really matter to them? How the hell did I get into this mess? What was in that package and why did they need me? How could Jolie have gone from my greatest fantasy to my worst nightmare in a matter of moments? What was the odds they would even find me on this road before I got a ride from someone else? Did I want to take anymore rides? Was there a bus station nearby? I rested at the top and watched the cars pass by below. No black Porsche and no red pick-up truck with six wheels drove by for the fifteen minutes I watched. Finally I got up enough nerve to slide down to the road and take my chances. The next thing I know a dark blue Oldsmobile pulls over and John Thorton, a salesman for Dow Chemical, welcomes me to a ride. Ahhh, just an ordinary ride with a lonely salesman, what could be better than that? Then John asks, “You didn’t run into anymore bears in the woods, did you?” “Bears in the woods?” I thought. Then John pulls a gun from inside his jacket and says, “Jolie misses you and she would really appreciate if you would come be her guest for awhile.”