Diversion 1 - Diversion (2 page)

A flashing blue strobe and the quick,
whirrrrrrr!
of a siren interrupted Luckys weary daze outside of Savannah, and he glanced down at the speedometer. Nope, not speeding, well, the truck wasnt at any rate. Beneath his worn flannel shirt, his heart banged a frantic beat.
Calm down, calm down. Hedont know nothing. He wont know nothing unless you give yourself away. Youve been through the drill a thousand times.

He geared down, searching for a place to pull off the road, finding a likely spot at an exit ramp. Paperwork, truck registration, andcommercial drivers license in hand, he waited, watching through his side mirrors. One cop. Good.

When the familiar broad hatband of a Georgia State Trooper came close enough to reach out and touch, he passed the documents out of the window.
Easy now, big boy. Nothing wrong here. Check my documents, touch the brim of your hat, and wish me a good day.
If only he had the ability to sway peoples minds like in the movies.

“Mawnin, officer!” he said, invoking good old boy charm again. “Problem?” He yawned and stretched, easing tired muscles. Working eight solid hours lifting boxes and driving through the night took a toll on a man.

The cop shone a flashlight on the papers, glossing over the cargo information after a single glance to focus on the license. “Mr. Murphy?”

“Yep.”
“Where ya headed?”
As if his destination wasnt listed on the manifest. “Daytona.

Gotta make sure the good folks down there get their big screens and DVD players in time for Christmas.”
Dont act nervous. Good cops can smell bullshit a mile away.
This particular officer, taking the time to scan the surroundings and take more than a passing glance at Luckys CDL, didnt strike Lucky as a dummy.

“Well, hopefully Ill only take a few minutes of your time. Ill be right back with this.” The officer handed the paperwork back, taking Luckys license to his cruiser. In passing, he studied the markings on the trailer, not seeming to notice the magnetic plates or fresh paint.

“Check out whatever you want, Im clean,” Lucky muttered to a departing broad back, watching the man disappear behind the trailer, presumably to check the seals. He wouldnt break them and inspect the cargo without following protocol, but if he checked the seal number against the manifest, hed find a mismatch. Too bad changing themanifest wouldve caused more suspicion.

Lucky counted backward from one hundred, restarting the count when the officer didnt reappear. He held his breath, heart going a mile a minute. The delay might mean a snag or backup on the way.
Or it might mean not one damned thing.
He aged three years, at least, by the time the cop returned, an apologetic smile prompting a tiny bit of stress relief.

“Sorry bout holding you up, Mr. Murphy. Seems somebody made off with a whole damned tractor-trailer load of pharmaceuticals up in North Carolina. I been checking rigs for hours.” And it showed, in the weary slope of his shoulders and his “Please, Lord, let my shift end soon” weary sigh.

Lucky scratched his head, pouring on fake concern. “Damn, another one? A man cant even make an honest living no more. The driver okay?”

“Yeah. A little shook up, and Im sure hes got a good reaming out coming. Seems he didnt exactly follow regulations. You have a safe trip down to Daytona. Planning on staying a bit while youre down there? Enjoying the warm weather before you head back north?”

“Yeah. Got a sister lives in Port Orange. Gonna check in on my nephews.” Charlotte had no inkling of how much she got around for a woman who hadnt left Spokane in years.

“Well, you be careful out there.” The officer patted the cab door in parting, head bowed as he plodded back to his car.
Damn, what a close call. Luckys
whoosh
of relief stirred the receipts littering the dashboard. Hed hate to be in the cops patent leather uniform shoes when the word got out about a live one getting away. He jotted down the officers name and cruiser number for later use.
Pink filled the skys edges when he bypassed Jacksonville, and hed started to get sleepy when the I-4 West sign loomed into view, but he didnt dare drink any more coffee and risk losing precious time by stopping at a rest area twenty minutes later.
Not much longer now.
Drawing closer to Orlando, the tension rose further.
No need to get gloaty now, one hell of a lot might still go wrong.
Despite his fears and cautions, the remaining miles ticked off uneventfully, and he arrived at his destination a half hour ahead of schedule, cat napping in the cab while waiting for his delivery appointment.
He relinquished control of the load, keeping a watchful eye on its unloading, ensuring the temperature gauges in the trailer hadnt fluctuated and the warehouse stored the goods properly. Most thieves didnt care about quality. Lucky wasnt most thieves. A few degrees plus or minus had the potential to turn life-saving drugs into pure poison. His boss would have his ass if Lucky damaged the merchandise.
Dropping the trailer in the yard, he disconnected the cab and eased out the of security gates in the bobtail rig. Now came the hard part: riding out the weekend, allowing the brass at Regency Pharma time to panic.

The Kenworth secured behind the fence of a local mechanics, Lucky grabbed his things and hoofed to the nearest motel, checking in under the name Lloyd Murphy from Pennsylvania. A shower, a shave, and then he dived between the sheets, fighting the temptation to sleep. He wallowed a bit, loosening and wrinkling the covers. Satisfied the place appeared used enough to throw trackers off his scent, he rose and dressed, creeping outthe hotels back door.

Fifteen minutes in a Yellow Cab placed him downtown at a slightly more secure hotel. Again he made use of the back entrance, kicking away the rock wedging the door open, relieving him of the need for a key. He consulted his phone, finding a text message from his boss:
Room 317
.

The door to his room stood ajar, and Lucky crept up on high alert. He pushed the door open a few inches, waited, and opened it a little more. The room was dark, tightly drawn curtains keeping out the noontime sun. He searched the bathroom, the closet, behind the curtains, and under the bed, fatigue kicking his paranoia into high gear. He found a suit hanging in the closet and a laptop case on the dresser. Not a boogeyman anywhere.

Ahh…finally. Dropping his bags in the closet and peeling off his clothes, Lucky collapsed on the bed, planning to stay there until either someone showed up to get him or doomsday, whichever came first. If only he managed to sleep until Monday, ready for Act II.

He lost consciousness wh ere he lay. He didnt sleep well and finally gave up, booting the laptop to peck out a cursory report to his boss. Afterward, he sent a few gentle lies, and one big honking truth, to his sister:

Yeah, Im doing fine. Sorry its been ages since I wrote, but things are a little hectic these days. Tell my nephews I love them, and I hope to be up to visit yall soon.

He closed his eyes, picturing her at twelve, him at thirteen. Theyd been the best of friends back before shed grown up and gotten married, always teaming up together to stand against their three younger brothers.

Charlotte said.
“A nurse? Stuck in a building every day wearing a funny hat?”
Lucky replied. “Dont sound like too much fun to me.” They lay on their backs on a hill overlooking the family
tobacco farm, puffy clouds swirling overhead. After giving the
matter some consideration, Lucky declared, “Im gonna be a truck
driver and travel everywhere! And Ill make lots and lots of money,
leave the farm, and never come back.”
“But if you go away, what about me? You cant leave me here
by my lonesome.” Charlottes voice rose to a near-panicked
whine.
Lucky rolled the idea around in his head, chewing a bit of
milkweed while shielding his eyes from the sun with an arm flung
across his face. “Come with me. You wont have to be no nurse.
Ill make enough money for both of us. Youll never have to work.” “What about getting married? Aint you gonna get married
someday?”
He didnt even need to think about the answer to that question,
peeking out from under his arm to tell her a firm, “No.” Charlotte pouched her lip out. “Well, maybe Ill get married.
And have kids.”
“He better be good to you, or Ill hurt him.”
His quick defense brought asmile and a giggle. “I believe you
will, Richie. Youre the best brother ever.”
Lucky buried his face in his hands, recalling those carefree days and the lives he and Charlotte had dreamed about. Theyd both gotten their wishes in a way, for he drove trucks and she helped people as a nurses aide, and shed certainly gotten married and had kids, but somehow their dreams hadnt turned out as
planned.
He sighed, knowing hed let his sister down. Out of his entire
family only Charlotte still claimed him, but she always had let her
heart boss her around. Before he hit send on his email, he added
another line,
“Give the boys a hug from me.”
He signed “Richie,”
a name no one but she and the kids were allowed to call him.

Squat, press hands to floor, kick legs back, pushup, pushup, squat, jump up, squat, hands to floor
…Lucky recited the moves, assuming the positions and focusing on correct stance. He took deep, cleansing breaths, a slow burn igniting in his muscles.
Up, down, up, down, squat, jump up.
Every three sets he eyed the clock, willing the numbers to move faster. When the five flipped over, announcing five minutes and a completed set, he stood, hands on knees, gasping for breath. Hed had to limit his workout lately, thanks to the keeneared busybody whod lived below him, and the lack of training left him winded.

In lieu of jumping rope, he slipped his key into his pocket, grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, and checked outside the door to ensure the coast was clear before making his way to the nearest stairwell. He plopped the water on the top step and loped down and back up twice to further warm his calves and thighs. Anticipation thrummed though him and he proceeded to scamper up and down a single flight of stairs. Concrete muffled the pounding of his tennis shoes, and the walls presented a solid surface to kick off against at the landings before launching himself at the stairs again.

While the hotel offered a gym, those generally attracted crowds. Lucky preferred not to draw attention to himself and his rather freeform way of keeping fit. Having lived in a cramped space for two years, hed learned to be creative out of necessary. Small guys like him didnt last long otherwise.

After the first circuit his mind and body slipped into a groove, and he entered the zone, all thoughts fleeing but the cadence of his footfalls and breathing. He lost track of how many times he darted between floors until, at last exhausted, he dropped to the stair next to his water, twisting off the top and downing the contents in a single go.

Inhale, exhale.
His heart pounded wildly, the harsh rhythm reminding him that he lived. Once his vitals calmed to something close to normal, he reached up, grasping the handrails and hoisting his body into a modified pull-up.
Breath in, breath out, lift, rest.

Three sets of twenty pull-ups later, he resumed his stair sprints, working himself into a state of exhaustion.
Back in his room, he showered off a layer of grime and sweat, letting nearly scalding water pound against his back—an impromptu massage. Slowly he increased the cold, cooling down his heated flesh.
Propping his back against a slick tile wall, he ran his hand slowly up his cock, hoping to work off a little more tension. He tried thinking about the truck driver at Regency, but the aching want in the mans eyes didnt do anything for him. Next, he tried thinking about a sweet young thing hed worked with on the loading dock, which left him as cold as the frigid drops now drizzling over his head.
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he conjured an image from his own imagination, wide shoulders tapering down into two firm mounds of bubble-butt, skin sun-kissed to a healthy glow. Though it didnt matter for his fantasy, the dream lover sprouted a head of dark hair, damp from the shower.
Oh, yeah. Thats more like it.
He reached his other hand down to cup his balls, working his flesh faster. Dream lover bent at the waist, back to Lucky, water sluicing over creamy mounds and a finger caressing a barely visible pucker.
In his minds eye Lucky lined the tip of his dick up with that hole, thrusting into delicious heat. He groaned, his cock throbbing. A quick succession of fist action later set him on edge. Squeezing harder, he stroked faster, working his free hand back behind his balls to press a fingertip against his own hole.
Head thrown back, he groaned again, releasing his load to slide across his knuckles and disappear down the drain in an artificial rainstorm, taking his fantasy image with it. Clutching the walls for support on knees suddenly grown weak, he whispered, “Was it good for you, too?”
Once hed dried off and collapsed on the bed, he rolled into a comfortable position, only to find that, despite his best efforts, he still couldnt fucking sleep.

Damn boy, you look like hell!
Lucky stared at his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror, marveling how anyone who hadnt done a whole lot of anything for an entire weekend appeared completely worn out. Dark circles underscored bleary eyes.

Two cups of coffee —from too-small hotel packets—and a hot shower later, he felt like he might live, though the jury hadnt yet passed the final verdict. He shaved and shrugged into the crisply pressed, robins egg blue button-down he found in the closet with the suit, taking great care with his appearance to avoid an asschewing from his boss.
You must appear respectable if you want to be taken seriously,
hed heard more than once. In the old days hed pushed the envelope until learning exactly where his boss drew the line.

The navy blue suit fit him like a glove, transformed him into a law-abiding citizen, outwardly, anyway—a far cry from the petty, two-bit criminal lounging in his soul, waiting for a chance to escape. Oh, well, the better to impress the fat cats who paid good money for his expertise.