Curtis Cigarette wasn’t his real name, of course. He’d been christened Curtis Christoff but in his late teenage years he was always asking anyone, “Got a cigarette?”

At one point someone said “Uh-oh, here comes Curtis Cigarette,” and the name stuck.

Curtis was a stoner who over time had tried almost every drug but always came back to weed. I don’t know if you can be a weed addict, but you sure can be a “getting high” addict. He smoked his first joint when he was fifteen and had been high for the greater part of the twelve years since then.

He was thin as a reed but had somehow developed a muscular body. Since any money he happened to acquire went toward maintaining his high, there was very little way of getting food. He’d learned that hanging around the outside of supermarkets didn’t gain him much. Most people rightly assumed that money proffered wouldn’t end up filling his stomach, but if he loitered in the deli section he had better luck with a sympathetic person buying him a sandwich.

There were times that he’d end up sneaking an apple or a banana into a pocket and that would be that day’s repast.

His outward appearance usually kept people who glanced his way from seeing that he was really a very good-looking young man whose most striking feature was his eyes, which were beautifully shaped, ringed with thick lashes and a shade reminiscent of dark green jade. However, there were physical aspects that countered those eyes.

On his left shoulder, he had a tattoo of a leaping tiger, claws and teeth bared, as if ready to kill you in two seconds.

His right arm had ivy climbing up it from the wrist. His upper arm was adorned with a curvaceous flirt with big tits and ass and a slim waist, apparently dancing like Salome but without her seventh veil. She was strangely surrounded by red flames.

In cursive script were the words to the Bee Gees’ song "How do You Mend a Broken Heart?" curving around his lower left arm. On the left half on his chest, Captain America leaped at you much as the tiger on his shoulder did. On the right half were two pistols with their barrels crossed forming an X.

Although he didn’t have enough facial hair to warrant one, he had a scruffy beard, mainly because he never held on to the money long enough to buy a razor. His one saving grace was that he managed to keep his body clean by bathing in the public restrooms he could manage to lock himself into for long enough. He devised different ways to clean his clothes.

Once he was discovered naked in an all-night laundromat. The responding officers took his almost dry clothes from the dryer and had him dress before arresting him for indecent exposure.

He’d hitched up with his female counterpart five years ago and he and Maggie had been together since. They’d slowly wound their way from Memphis down to Mobile. They were there when Katrina hit. Two years later they ended up in the Big Easy.

Their way of life threw them into the virtual path of motorcyclist Big Stag, who weighed twice as much as Curtis and whose superior size gave him more skin surface to decorate with tattoos. His beard succeeded where Curtis’ failed and his eyes were hidden by aviator glasses which never left his face.

He bought a helmet for Maggie, hoisted her onto his hog behind him and they rode off into the sunset, as they say. Curtis was alone again.

As hurricane season neared Curtis decided he didn’t want to stick around to see what was going to happen that year. He began hitching rides on US 10 in the direction of San Diego. The first day got him west of Houston where he appeared to be stranded.

As the sun rose higher in the sky the next morning the temperature rose with it. He rolled a joint and looked east into the sun for any cars or trucks coming his way.

The name Elwood Marcus didn’t fit the man who bore it, which he well knew. He’d renamed himself “Titus” and had it emblazoned in ornate gold lettering on the deep burgundy sides of the cab of his big rig.

He’d been driving a rig for the last dozen of his forty-two years, spending the greatest part of the year on the road crossing from one side of the country to the other.

He was tall with a broad chest and arms that bulged against shirt sleeves which were always too tight. Reddish brown curly hair peeked out from where the top three buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. In many women’s opinions his quiet, brute masculinity made up for any lack of handsomeness he might suffer.

He’d left Baton Rouge just after dawn and it was almost mid-day when he made out the slight figure standing by the highway far up ahead. As he drew nearer and became sure that it was a hitch-hiker he slowed and looked in his mirrors to make sure there was no one behind him. The interstate was empty.

He applied the air-brake and brought the eighteen-wheeler to a halt just past where the young man stood. Curtis sprinted to the open door, took off his backpack, tossing it up onto the seat, clambered up and swung his slight frame into the cab.

He pulled the door to as he puffed out, “Thanks. It’s getting hot out there.”

“Where you headin’ to?” Titus asked.

“Dunno. San Diego, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not going there. I’m headin’ to L.A. but I can get you near there.”

“Whatever,” Curtis said.

“I’m Titus.”

“Curtis.”

Titus glanced at him several times, sizing him up. He saw C. C. tattooed on the back of his left hand.

“What’s the C. C. for”

“My ‘nitials.”

“Huh, Curtis C.”

A couple of minutes passed and Titus chuckled.

“Courtesy. That’s what I’ll call you.”

They rode in silence. Half an hour passed and Curtis pulled out his weed and rolled a joint. Titus cut his eyes over, watching him. Curtis pulled out matches.

“You really gonna smoke that shit in here?”

Curtis looked at him as if he didn’t understand the question.

“You gonna do that then put the window down. I don’t want no contact high. I gotta have my wits to steer this thing.” When the sun had passed the meridian Titus said, “You gettin’ hungry?”

“Shit, yeah,” Curtis said.

He’d been hungry for almost twenty-four hours.

“You got any money?”

Curtis shrugged and shook his head at the same time, followed by, “No.”

Titus scoffed. “Huh, that figures.”

A rest stop came into view. He pulled the rig off the highway and parked in the designated area. They climbed down and Titus bought two plastic-wrapped ham and cheese sandwiches and two coffees. They sat on a bench in the shade and ate.

“You okay?”

Curtis shrugged.

“Still hungry?”

Curtis nodded.

Titus bought another sandwich and a Milky Way bar. When he returned to the bench, Curtis wasn’t there. He figured he’d gone into the men’s room. He waited as the minutes ticked by. Finally, he got up and went in to see what the hold-up was.

Curtis was standing shirtless at a sink splashing water on his body. The floor around him was covered with puddles. Other men were using the sinks as far from him as they could get so as not to get wet.

Titus stood and watched him, noting that he was well-built for someone who was obviously undernourished. Curtis turned off the water and pulled handfuls of paper towels from the dispenser. As he dried off he dropped the used towels on the floor and used his foot to move them around to sop up the puddles.

He pulled his shirt back on and saw Titus watching him. He didn’t offer an explanation but walked past him and went outside. Titus followed him.

“Here,” he said, and handed Curtis the sandwich and candy bar. “I gotta take a piss.”

He turned and went back into the men’s room to relieve himself.

They got on the road again. They rode in silence for fifteen minutes.

Titus looked at Curtis. He turned his eyes back to the highway and then back at Curtis.

“You know, you could say ‘Thanks’. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Curtis, sullenly said.

After a minute of silence, Curtis pulled out his weed and rolled another joint.

“Watcha gonna do when you run out of that?”

Curtis looked at him. Titus chuckled.

“Hadn’t thought about that, huh?”

More minutes clicked by.

Titus said, “I wanna ask you somethin’. Where’s your family?”

Curtis shrugged.

‘Great,’ thought Titus.

“You married?”

Curtis shook his head.

“Hey, Courtesy, talk to me. I picked you up for some companionship.”

“No,” Curtis said.

“No, what?”

“Married. I’m not.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t know. She went off with some other guy.”

“What? She quit a good-looking guy like you? He musta been a movie star.”

“Huh!” Curtis snorted out.

“Well, she musta been crazy. You’re better off without her. You get to California and you’re gonna have those surfer girls all over you. You like that?”

Curtis shrugged again.

“Courtesy, Courtesy, Courtesy. You’re gonna fry your brain with that shit. Maybe too late.”

The sun was in their eyes as it sunk towards the horizon.

“I’m gonna stop in Sonora and catch some winks. I don’t believe in killin’ myself just to make good time.”

They pulled off at the exit and took another road until he came to a truck stop called Road Rangers. He slowed and turned in, coming to a stop a dozen yards from the main building.

“I got good news for you. You can take a shower here. I saw you cleanin’ up this afternoon, so I think you might appreciate that.”

For the first time that day, Curtis smiled.

“But I’m starvin’. I’m gonna eat first. How ‘bout you?”

“Are you paying?”

“Look, Courtesy, as far as I can see, you don’t have a pot to piss in. Either I have to pay or kick you out here in the middle of Texas, or watch you slowly starve. Those are my choices, and I’m a good guy. You take in a stray dog you have to feed that stray dog. Besides, I got faith that you’ll find a way to pay me back someday.”

Titus climbed down from the cab and walked away. He stopped and looked back at the rig. Curtis opened the door on the passenger side. Titus didn’t wait for him. He figured he’d catch up.

When they’d finished eating, they went back to the rig to get clean clothes to change into. Titus climbed behind the seats. Curtis rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a pair of scanty, brightly-colored briefs. He’d bought a pack of three for two dollars at a K Mart going-out-of-business sale. He found an athletic tank top but the only other pair of jeans he had were dirtier than the ones he was wearing.

A thought came into his head. He looked at Titus.

“Where are you going to sleep? Do they have rooms here?”

“No, not here, but I don’t pay for rooms. I sleep in back here,” Titus said. “This is my bedroom.”

Curtis got on his knees and looked over the back of his seat. He saw the small space which was mainly occupied by a mattress. Surrounding it were some cubby holes and what looked like a small TV built into the wall.

“Oh,” Curtis uttered. “Where can I sleep?”

‘Well, the only thing I can come up with is that we share this. It’ll be a tight squeeze but we oughta be able to handle it.” He climbed out of the space. “Unless you can come up with a better idea?”

They went to the showers. When they finished bathing and had redressed Titus handed his dirty clothes to Curtis.

“Here, take these back to the truck. It’s open. I need to pick up some things here. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He went in the convenience store part of the complex and bought a gallon of milk, some bananas, four packages of beef jerky and a six-pack of Dos Equis beer. He got in the truck and put everything into the small refrigerator in the back.

"You want a beer?” he asked, holding up a bottle for Curtis to see. “Or don’t you drink? Maybe that stuff you smoke is all you need.”

Curtis looked at him and held up his ziplock bag of weed.

“You want a joint? Or a toke, maybe?”

“No, thanks. It ain’t that I’m against weed, sort of. It’s that I don’t get smoking anything. Lungs weren’t meant to handle smoke. You know, when a house burns down, the people that die in there don’t get burned to death. It’s the smoke kills them long ‘fore the fire gets to ‘em.”

“Give me a beer,” Curtis responded.

Titus uncapped one and handed it to Curtis. They sat quietly drinking with Curtis inhaling deeply from the joint he’d rolled and lit. When they finished the first beer Titus opened two more. When those were gone Titus got out of the truck and took the empty bottles and walked them over to where there were a couple of dumpsters. He tossed them in and returned to the truck.

“Okay, Courtesy, my friend. It’s time to turn in, but if you’re gonna sleep with me you gotta get outta them jeans. First, it’s too hot to sleep in clothes. Second, they’re filthy and are beginning to stink. So shuck ‘em and hang ‘em on one of the mirrors to air out.”

He climbed in the back and stripped down to his underwear. Curtis looked around to see if there were any people lurking in the dark. Satisfied that they were alone, he pulled off his jeans and draped them over a rear-view mirror that stuck out from the door. He climbed in the truck and looked at Titus.

“Come on, Courtesy. I’m not gonna bite. Oh, if durin’ the night you gotta piss, don’t you dare do it on my mattress. You get your skinny ass out there, ya hear?”

Curtis climbed in the back.

“Why do you wear those old-man shorts?”

“These? They aren’t for old men. Lots of young guys wear ‘em. When you’re riding the road all day and your junk is being jiggled for hours, you want the boys to be free to breathe, not cooped up in something like what you got on. Those things hardly cover your ass.”

Curtis decided not to say anymore. Titus threw the top sheet back.

“You sleep next to the wall. You don’t need nearly as much room as I do.”

They got settled in and Titus turned off the light. Curtis was asleep in merely minutes. Titus took a little longer. The silence of the desert night was occasionally broken by an eighteen-wheeler pulling in to the truck stop.

One of those intruded on Titus’ sleep and he awoke. He looked at the clock and rolled over so that he was facing in the opposite direction, Curtis’ back in front of him. He moved a hand up and scratched his nose. As he lowered his hand it brushed against Curtis’ back.

He moved his hand back up and gently touched the smooth skin with his knuckles again. laid his palm on the young man’s shoulder and slowly ran it down his arm, feeling the strong muscle under the soft flesh. brought his hand back up to the shoulder and the side of Curtis’ neck. He moved his hand from side to side letting his fingers tenderly pull the hairs on the nape of his neck.

He sensed a slight change in Curtis' breathing.

"Are you awake?" he quietly asked.

Curtis responded with an equally quiet "Ummm."

"You okay?"

Another, "Ummm."

Once again he slipped his hand down the length of his back but this time continued down and felt the touch of the silky briefs that covered his firm buttocks. Titus delicately squeezed one of Curtis’ butt cheeks. He let it go and moved his hand the few inches to the elastic waistband. He slid his hand under the band and a thrill ran through his groin as he encountered the downy flesh of the two mounds separated by a slit. He moved his hand in a circle and let his fingers slip into the crevice.

"Still okay?" he breathed into Curtis' ear.

This time Curtis nodded his head very slightly.

"Tell me when you're not," Titus whispered.

As he removed his hand he pushed down on the waistband and forced Curtis’ low-rise briefs down so that they were clear of his butt. Titus withdrew his hand and reached into the fly of his boxers. His cock had grown hard. He pulled it out of the fly opening and ran his hand up and down it, making the foreskin move back and forth.

He pulled his foreskin back so that the head was uncovered. He placed the tip of the head at the lowest point of Curtis’ round butt and pushed so that it slipped in between his legs and rubbed against his perineum. He pushed again until his cock was stopped by Curtis’ balls.

He paused to see what reaction he might get from Curtis, but there was no discernable difference and there was no body movement.

Titus moved his hips back and his cock slid against the smooth skin between Curtis’ legs. He pushed and his cock jerked at the feeling of flesh on flesh. He was sure that Curtis pressed his legs tightly together. Titus began an easy fucking motion, his cock poking into Curtis’ scrotum with each thrust.

He gripped Curtis’ shoulder, his fingers pressing hard as he increased the timing and the power of his thrusts. His breathing became ragged and his breath was hot on the back of Curtis’ neck. He felt the cum rise in his balls and as it coursed up his cock and spurted out he put his forehead between Curtis’ shoulder blades with his eyes tightly shut.

He remained still as his balls emptied. When his cock began to soften he moved back to free it. He pulled the waistband of Curtis’ briefs up so that they covered his butt again. He rolled onto his back and laid his forearm over his eyes. In a short time, he was again asleep.

When the first rays of the sun hit the truck, he awoke. He pulled on his pants and boots and got out of the truck. He had a T-shirt with him and pulled it on. He banged his fist on the side of the truck.

“Come on, Courtesy. Rise ‘n’ shine.”

He unhooked the jeans from where Curtis had hung them on the mirror and tossed them behind the seats.

“I’m going to the head. Breakfast is gonna be fast food for sure.”

He took a couple of damp paper towels with him into one of the toilet cubicles and wiped his cock as he sat on the toilet. When he came out Curtis was at one of the washbasins with his jeans and briefs down to his knees. He was using wet paper towels to wipe the dried cum from between his legs.

Titus washed his hands and as he turned to leave Curtis looked up at him. This time it was Titus who shrugged his shoulders without saying anything.

When they were on the road Titus asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough.”

The answer seemed to hang in the air. Titus let it hang there undisturbed. Curtis lit his first joint of the day.

“Roll down the fuckin’ window.”

An hour later Titus said, “If you get hungry I got some bananas and some milk back there. I know that stuff’s supposed to make you want to eat.”

Curtis didn’t answer. Another half hour of silence passed.

“I gotta stop in El Paso. From there I head up toward Tucson. You can get out in El Paso and hitch a ride on to San Diego.”

“I don’t have to go to San Diego.”

“I thought you said that’s where you were heading.”

“I don’t know nobody there.”

“So, do you want to go to Tucson?”

Curtis shrugged.

Titus hit the steering wheel with his fist. “Shit!”

Curtis flinched and looked at him.

Titus glared at him briefly. “Can’t you talk normally? Spit it out. Say what’s on your mind, if you got any thoughts in there.”

Curtis turned his head and looked out of the window at the desolate scene. He turned his head back.

“I ain’t got nobody nowhere. My girl left me. I ain’t got no place to go or no reason for goin’ there. I don’t give a shit if I go to fuckin’ San Diego or fuckin’ Tucson or fuckin’ Los Angeles. You want to you can dump me in fuckin’ El Paso. It don’t mean shit to me.”

He looked out the window again. Titus looked at the back of his head. They rode in silence.

Curtis began to climb over the back of his seat into the back section.

“I’m hungry,” he advised Titus.

“Well, I’m runnin’ late and knew we couldn’t stop for lunch so I got a couple of sandwiches at Subway and some sodas. There’s a meatball and a turkey and Swiss cheese. Take the one you want and hand me the other. If you gotta piss I’ll just pull over.”

“Yeah. Do it.”

Titus pulled the semi off at the next exit and pulled over to the side of the road. Curtis climbed out and pulled out his cock. Titus came round the back of the trailer and pulled out his cock too. His strong stream of piss kicked up a cloud of dust. Curtis snuck a peek at the large, uncut tool that had left a deposit between his legs the night before.

He finished pissing and tucked his cock back into his jeans. He turned and climbed back into the truck. A couple of minutes later Titus mounted to the driver’s seat.

Curtis gave Titus the ham and cheese sandwich. Titus turned the ignition and pulled up the on-ramp. He juggled the sandwich and Coke as he drove. After another long period of silence, he spoke.

“Tell me, Courtesy, just how did you usually get money to buy food or that weed?”

Curtis started to shrug but caught himself. “I don’t know. Different ways.”

“Hustling?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Selling your body?”

“Sometimes.”

“Huh!”

Nothing was said again.

Then, “Well, listen. You’re not hustling me, you hear? What I do is ‘cause I want to. Don’t get no idea that you’re hustling me, ‘cause you ain’t. Got it?”

Curtis didn’t answer but nodded his head.

Another many-miles-long period of silence.

“You got no idea what it’s like driving this thing,” Titus said quietly as if talking to himself.

“Your balls and cock bouncing around for hour after hour, day after day. Sometimes you get a hard-on that just won’t go away. Sometimes you get some crazy ideas.”

He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached down and adjusted his package. He glanced at Curtis but couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

From El Paso, the route turned northwest. The day had ended when they pulled into a Pilot Travel Center on the southern edge of Tucson. By now Curtis knew the routine. They exchanged a few words while eating. After showering they were walking back to the truck when Titus remembered something.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, and turned around and went back to the convenience store section of the complex. Curtis waited for him beside the truck. Titus came back, unlocked the doors and they scrambled in.

When they were getting under the sheet he said, “Tomorrow we go directly into L. A. It should still be light when we get there.”

“Where will you go after there?”

“Provo.”

“Where?”

“Provo. Utah. Near Salt Lake City. I keep a little apartment there. And I mean little. It ain’t much bigger than this.” He swung his hand in a circle over his head.

He pulled the sheet up covering them but a few minutes later he threw it back. The light was still on. He looked at Curtis’ back where the night before he’d had his hand. He moved forward so his chest was pressing against Curtis’ back and his cock was pressing against Curtis’ butt. He put his arm around Curtis and ran his hand over his hairless chest. He played with one of his nipples.

He pulled his hand back and wriggled it under the waistband of his briefs as he did the night before. He caressed his butt cheeks and squeezed them. Once more he slipped his fingers into his crack and this time fingered his asshole.

He pulled his hand out and pushed the waistband down. This time it slid down easily to Curtis’ knees. He put the head of his cock into the cleft and moved it up and down.

For the first time, Curtis responded by putting his hand back and blocking Titus. Titus moved his hand away and Curtis turned onto his back. Titus rose up on an elbow and looked at him. His eyes were closed. Titus looked at his soft cock laying on top of his small patch of curly black hairs. He bent down and slurped all of Curtis’ cock into his mouth. Curtis’ entire body jumped. He lifted his head and looked at the top of Titus’ head, his lips buried in Curtis’ pubes. His cock quickly became erect.

Titus moved his head up and down a dozen times.

“What won’t I do to get my rocks off?” he thought to himself.

He let Curtis’ cock slip from his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked it from the tip down to the base and continued down over his balls and between his legs. He easily lifted one leg so that Curtis’ was raised and his asshole exposed. He forced his face in and stuck out his tongue. He touched the tip to the puckered hole and felt Curtis flinch. He knew it was a pleasurable reaction.

He lowered the leg and turned Curtis back on his side as he’d been. He spread his cheeks apart and forced his face in. He swirled his tongue around the probed the opening with his tongue’s tip.

He continued doing this for a minute while he opened the bottle of KY he’d bought at the convenience store. He peeled his foreskin back and squirted the lubricant on his cock and moved back up so it was even with Curtis’ ass.

He spoke quietly into Curtis’ ear. “Courtesy, I wanna put it in you.”

Curtis was quiet.

“I wanna fuck your ass, okay?”

As the night before, Curtis responded with an, “Ummm.”

Titus repeated running the end of his cock up and down Curtis’ ass crack again. He stopped at the hole and shoved. He felt the hole open and the head of his cock went in.

He shoved again and paused, enjoying the moist warmth. One more shove and he pressed his body against Curtis’ round, firm ass. The tightness surrounding his cock sent thrills coursing through his body. He pulled back, feeling the soft tissue caress his manhood.

When he pushed back in Curtis was amazed at how good it was to have his gut filled with this man’s very large muscle. Each time Titus pulled it partially out and shoved it back in Curtis clenched his asshole, not wanting to lose this sensation, wanting to repeat it again and again.

Titus increased the force of his thrusts. He wrapped his arm around Curtis, holding him tightly. He clamped his teeth on Curtis’ shoulder where it curved into his neck. Hot snorts came from his nose. His ball sack constricted forcing his balls up to the base of his cock.

The strength of Titus’ jabs had led Curtis to grip his own cock firmly and pump it as furiously as Titus assaulted his rectum. Never in his life had he experienced such sexual stimulation in two parts of his body at the same time.

The cum shot out of Titus’ cock over and over, three, four, five times, each time making him gasp. He heard guttural sounds coming from Curtis’ throat, knowing he was climaxing at the same moment.

As his body relaxed he relented his bite and replaced it with a kiss but still held Curtis tight. He felt the tenseness leave Curtis’ muscles. He kissed the back of his neck and buried his face in his hair.

After a minute he asked, “Are you okay?”

He felt Curtis nod his head and then he said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Do you need to get up?”

“No.”

Titus' cock was still hard and deep in Curtis. Neither of them wanted for him to remove it although knew it wouldn’t last. He reached up and turned off the light. Shortly sleep blanketed them as had the dark.

When the morning light awoke Titus he was lying on his back, his soft cock draped over one hip. He reached for and tore open a pack of baby wipes he’d bought at the same time as the KY. He wiped off his cock and his thick hairy bush that surrounded it.

He tossed back the sheet and saw that Curtis’ briefs were still around his knees, his pale round butt exposed. He took a wipe and used it to clean the crack he’d buried his face in only a few hours before. He thought about doing it again. It had been a long time since he’d had morning sex, but duty called. That could wait.

Curtis rolled over onto his back.

“Good-mornin',” he said.

“Mornin’ sunshine. Hungry?”

“I guess.”

Titus handed him the pack of wipes.

“Here, clean up any mess you made last night.”

He struggled into his jeans and climbed out of the cab. He waited for Curtis and they trudged to the restroom.

“Titus,” Curtis said, “can I have a shower?”

“You think you have to wash my smell off you?”

Curtis looked at him with a combination of confusion and hurt. Titus grabbed the back of his neck.

“I’m pullin’ your chain. You want a shower you got a shower.”

When they finished their freshening up they went into Cinnabon and got coffee and rolls and stopped in Subway and picked up lunch.

Back in the truck, Titus said, “We’re goin’ through Phoenix and L. A. but I don’t wanna stop until we get to Bakersfield and I’d like to get there ‘fore dark,” Titus told him.

“Bakersfield? Where’s that? I thought you were goin’ to Los Angeles.”

“I said L. A. ‘cause I figured you didn’t know where Bakersfield was, and look, I was right. But that’s where I’m takin' this load. It’s just north of L. A. a couple of hours. Whadda you care, anyway?”

Curtis sullenly pulled out his diminishing bag of weed and rolled his first joint of the day. Titus looked at him with a disgusted expression and slowly lowered the window on his side of the cab to make the point.

Once again silence accompanied them as the miles turned on the odometer and minutes on the clock turned into hours. Curtis slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes, ignoring the scenery passing by. He dozed off and wasn’t aware when they passed through Phoenix.

When the sun was high overhead Titus broke the quiet.

“You ready for a sandwich? Remember there’s soda in the fridge.”

“There’s still beer, also.”

“You can’t drink beer while I’m driving. Don’t you know anything ‘bout the law?”

“I didn’t say I was gonna drink one. I just said they were there.”

Curtis scrambled into the back and opened the refrigerator.

“You want a soda?” he yelled.

“An RC,” Titus yelled back.

Curtis popped open the soda and handed it to Titus. He unwrapped a sandwich and passed that to him, too. They ate without talking.

"Hey, Courtesy,” Titus cheered. “You’re in California. As soon as we get through those mountains you see up ahead, you won’t see no more desert.”

Curtis sat up and peered ahead, his interest aroused. They drove on.

“So what are you gonna do in L. A.? You know anybody there?”

Curtis turned his head away and looked out the side window.

“No,” he quietly said.

“So what you gonna do? Where are you goin’?”

After a beat, Curtis said, “I don’t know. I don’t know, Titus. Okay?”

Titus was quiet. He was deciding if he really wanted to say what he was thinking. He decided he did.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“To Bakersfield? What the fuck’s there for me?”

Titus cocked his head and glanced at Curtis.

“I mean stick with me. Go wherever I go.”

“To Promo?”

“Provo. Yeah, there and on, wherever I go on the next haul. I mean stay with me. Permanently. I could get you some work.”

Curtis was looking at him, trying to see if he was serious.

“What would I do?”

“Help load and unload the trailer. It would be some heavy lifting, but you got the muscles. And I’m gonna feed you and get you fleshed out. You could do all that plus keep me happy if you get what I mean.”

Curtis had pulled out his weed. Titus looked at him and shook his head.

“And I’ll try my damndest to get you weaned off that shit. I don’t want you high as a kite all the time. I want you down here with me.”

Curtis pushed the baggie back into his hip pocket. A couple of minutes slipped by. He laid his hand on Titus' large leg, his fingers splayed.

“Titus, if I go with you can I ask you for a favor? Another one?”

“Depends. What?”

My name’s Curtis Christoff. Can you just call me Curtis?”

Titus covered Curtis’ hand with his bigger one and squeezed it hard.

“Yeah, buddy. I can do that.” He looked into Curtis’ jade green eyes and smiled.