The Arrest -10-

Barstow California.

Population 24,000

The main stop between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.

As the little blue Porsche pulled into the lot, Gypsy felt her heart racing. This was it. The place she died. Coming back was another failure that she chalked up to bad luck. If only that woman was 5 minutes later, she would be 6 feet deep and getting flowers once a year on her birthday. Yet, here she was sitting in the same car she drove there before and the only thing left of that night was the scars on her arms. She parked in the same spot as before. Turning the car off was a reaction rather than a need. Pulling the keys, she placed them on the seat next to her, patting them one time before exiting the car.

“Miss, you got a dollar?” a male asked.

Shaking, Gypsy pushed her hand down in her pocket, handing the male a five dollar bill.

“God Bless you,” he added.

Laughing, Gypsy looked the man dead in the eyes, “There is no God. Sorry, man, but there is no God.”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Sure, just peachy,” she whispered.

Leaning against the car, the young blond watched the door of the bathroom before deciding it was empty. She wasn’t shocked. The gas station wasn’t one of those chain companies. A little Indian man with a turban and a dot on his forehead ran it. She noticed that the first time she visited. Slowly, she walked those few steps, jiggling the knob as she walked in. The moment the door closed, the lock clicked shut and once again Gypsy was alone with her own feelings.

“It’s me again. You know, the one who stained the floor with something other than piss,” nervous Gypsy laughed. Her back against the wall, she watched the broken reflection in the old mirror over the sink. It was one of those that wasn’t glass, but some weird cheap silver that gave a distorted view. Maybe it was better they didn’t have a real mirror. Someone would break it and snort a line of meth off the sharp surface. That, or someone, would hurt themselves. Her eyes moved from the mirror to the floor, shivering at the memories of the night she sat on that concrete and poured her heart out to people who didn’t deserve the time of day. Back then, she thought if she died they would realize how much they missed her, but now, Gypsy knew the truth. You can’t make someone love you. It’s impossible to force anyone into being with you because you feel like they are the best part of you. She knew that well.

“This place doesn’t look like they haven’t cleaned it since the last time I was here. I’m surprised the blood’s gone,” laughing. As her body pushed back from the door, the young blond made her way to the exact spot she sat before. Dropping down, she laid flat on her back in that filthy bathroom, her eyes shutting as a hum from the florescent lights sung her a lullaby. Her breaths deep, and drawn out, for the first times in a while she was oddly at peace. Maybe this was where she was supposed to die, and that’s what pulled her back like a moth to a flame. For a few moments Gypsy tried to think of a song that she wanted played at her funeral. Last time it was The Rose by Bette Midler, and now, well, Amazing Grace. Not because it was a spiritual song, but because when she heard it she remembered when her grandfather was laid to rest.

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind but now I see

Was Grace that taught my heart to fear

And Grace, my fears relieved

How precious did that Grace appear

The hour I first believed”

Singing, she stopped suddenly when a knock on the door brought her back to reality. “Lady, whatever the fuck you’re doing in there, I gotta piss,” said the voice on the other side of the door. Just like last time, she couldn’t have time to just let nature take its course.

Knock, knock

“Look, you can finish the concert after I piss. Hell, you can sing while I go, but fucking hurry,” the man demanded.

“Through many dangers, toils and snares,

We have already come

T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far

And Grace will lead us home

And Grace will lead us home

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost but now am found

Was blind but now I see”

“You dumb bitch, open the fucking door. I either piss in there, or I will open the door to that pretty little car of yours and shit on the front seat,” demanded the man.

Silencing her voice, Gypsy pushed herself up from the floor, smoothed her hand down her clothing and opened the door with a smile and smack dab back into the heat of the dessert. “Sorry,” she whispered, slipping quickly back into the front seat of her Porsche. Door locked, she watched as the male exited the bathroom a few minutes later. Smiling, she flipped him off as she pulled from the parking slot.

Barstow to Las Vegas 155.8 miles or 2 hours and 22 minutes.

Rolling down the windows, Gypsy flipped the radio on, singing along to the song that blared from the speakers.

Livin’ easy

Lovin’ free

Season ticket on a one way ride

Askin’ nothin’

Leave me be

Takin’ everythin’ in my stride

Don’t need reason

Don’t need rhyme

Ain’t nothin’ that I’d rather do

Goin’ down

Party time

My friends are gonna be there too

I’m on the highway to hell

On the highway to hell

Highway to hell

I’m on the highway to hell

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