“I'm almost sixteen,” the youngster said, as if that explained it.
“Where you hitchin’ from?"
“Huh?"
“Where did you start out from?"
“You mean this morning?"
“No"—what an idiot—"you know, when you started out on your trip? Where did you start from?"
“Lincoln,” the kid said, as if he'd had this boring conversation three hundred times with motorists who'd picked him up. “I hitched down to Jackson,” it sounded like he'd said.
“Jackson, Mississippi?"
“Florida."
“I've never been there. Where's Jackson, Florida?"
“Jacks. You know, Jacksonville."
“Oh, Jacksonville. Sure. That's a fun town, I hear."
“Absolutely,” the kid said, shaking his head. “Bitchin’ party town.” He smiled as if he couldn't take any more party.
“So you sound like you had a good time."
“Had a real good time. I hate to go back."
“I bet. Your folks'll be relieved to see you, though, huh?"
“Don't have any. I live with my sister ‘n her, uh, boyfriend. But I gotta go back."
“You in school?"
“Naw. I quit. Couldn't handle it."
“If you don't have to go back to go to school how come you gotta go back?” The big man had unconsciously already picked up the tone and language of the youngster, subtly easing into his speech rhythms.
“I run outta money.” They both laughed.
“I hear that all right."
“Yeah. I ain't ate since yesterday."
“Oh, hey,” he said jovially, “we can't have that. I'll tell you what—are you in a big hurry?"
“Naw.” The boy shrugged his bare shoulders. “Not really,” he said, looking at the big man behind the wheel.
“Well, I was just thinking. I gotta look at this piece of real estate for sale over by the river. If you have time you wanna go with me?” The man looked up through the windshield. “Looks like it could open up rain anytime."
“Yeah, it sure does."
“And, you know, if you think you can spare the time, you could ride with me and look at the ground with me and when we get done I'll take you to McDonald's or someplace an’ get you some chow, and then I can drop you back on the Interstate."
The kid laughed. “Yeah, okay.” It sounded as good as any other way to kill the morning. “I ain't got anything else I got to do I guess."
“Be a good way to stay out of the rain."
“Yeah,” the kid agreed.
They rode in silence for a while.
“I'll bet you have some wild times on the road hitchhiking, am I right?"
“You better believe it. Man, I mean...” He trailed off.
“I guess it gets pretty crazy, huh?” The kid looked at him and nodded agreement. “What's the weirdest thing you've had happen so far?” Just making conversation.
“Guys wantin’ to blow me."
“Huh?"
“Yeah. Lot of guys wanted to give me, you know, blowjobs."
“No shit.” The big man appeared incredulous at the possibility of such a thing.
“Yep."
“How many fags have you run into?"
“Oh, I dunno, I guess about half or maybe three-fourths of the guys that pick you up want to give you a blowjob."
“Jeez, really? I can't believe there are so many faggots, eh?"
“Yeah.” The kid laughed.
“What do they say to you? I mean, how do they, uh, ask you ‘n that?"
“I dunno. They just say ... oh, different stuff. Sometimes they just come out and ask me if they can suck my cock. You know.” Like he was talking about the weather.
“How do you handle that?"
“Huh?"
“Well. You know. A young man like you, fifteen—almost sixteen like you say—and a grown-up guy ‘n all, but still, by yourself. What do you say to these faggots when they want to suck you or whatever?"
“I"—he shrugged with his face and arms and shoulders all at once—"uh, just let ‘em blow me, I guess.” A little pause. “I mean it's THEIR MOUTH, ya’ know?"
“Yeah. Right.” Their mouth. What a punk.
“But that's it."
“Mmmm?” Eyes on the Interstate, waiting for the exit road.
“Nothing else. I mean I'll let ‘em give me a blowjob but that's it. Nothin’ else, ya know."
“Right.” And then Daniel blinked and looked over at the boy and asked “What else do they try to do?"
“Some of ‘em'll try to fuck me in the butt if I'll let ‘em but I don't go for that shit. No fuckin’ way.” He shook his head. The driver said nothing. “For one thing I don't go that way, ‘n another thing, you know, you got to be careful now."
“Izzat right?"
“Oh, yeah, that AIDS ‘n shit, man."
“Oh, yes.” His mind had drifted elsewhere as he was watching for that road.
“This one kid I know in Lincoln, he's eighteen. He was getting guys to take him to the fuck movies, ya know, ‘n he'd let ‘em suck him off and butt-fuck him ‘n that, an’ like—onna weekend he'd make like three or four hundred bucks easy."
“Really?"
“Yeah, an’ this one guy they found out, this guy was stickin’ him in the asshole alla time, he's got AIDS, man!” The kid laughed. It was funny to him to think about it.
“What's the wildest thing you've let a guy do to you?"
“The WILDEST thing?"
“Yeah,” he said with a dimpled smile. “Just curious, ya know?"
“This one guy"—the kid started to laugh but he changed his mind and said seriously—"he jus’ wanted to stick his tongue in my ass."
“Jeezus."
“Yeah. Crazy son of a bitch. You know, I go, Well, it's your tongue, man."
“You let ‘m?"
“Yeah.” Shrugging again. “I let him eat my asshole out, what the fuck do I care, man? If he wants to stick his tongue up my ass that's cool."
“What did it feel like?"
“Nothin'. You can't hardly feel nothin'. Just a tongue in your ass. That's about it."
“Wow. That's pretty freaky."
“Back home I'll make a couple hundred in two days just letting these three guys suck me off all weekend."
“Two hundred bucks?” As if he were interested.
“Really. These same three dudes jus’ wanta suck my cock over and over. An’ they'll be beatin’ off or whatever, and I just let ‘em suck me and then another one'll start. And I don't have to do nothin'. I'll just mellow out, you know, an’ smoke or whatever, and just kick back.
And these three guys'll blow me over and over all weekend long. And they..."
Chaingang tuned out on the boring story of the kid's sex life as he planned what he would do next. He was pulling over onto a service road that ran parallel to the busy traffic.
“You a real-estate salesman?” the boy asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
“Right. Yeah. I'm a developer."
“We gonna go look at a development?” the kid asked, not even knowing what he was talking about. He was hungry.
“Yeah. Well, no, not exactly. A land site. I'm considering developing the property.” There was a gravel road and he eased the car off the service route. A pickup zoomed by him, the driver in a hat with an ad on the front, and Chaingang saw the man lift a finger from the wheel in the universal rural motorist's greeting. Chaingang automatically smiled and lifted one of the fingers of his left hand from the wheel. There would not be much traffic along a road like this.
He drove about three miles along the gravel, the kid talking about blowjobs or whatever as Chaingang took the winding curves slowly. Cottonwoods and towering hackberries and maple, choked with weeds of every description, hung out over the road ditches that flanked the twisting gravel road, and you couldn't see opposing traffic until it rounded the curves and was right on top of you.
After three miles or so he came to a county blacktop and he drove slowly across it and up a mud road set into the face of a steep levee. It felt like he was standing the car straight up for a minute and the kid said, “We're out in the boonies."