A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Mr. Aldrich

Inside the café, Harry finished his coffee and groped in his wallet for money to pay the check. His visit with Mr. Vernon had gotten him more than he'd expected, including an invitation to spend more time with his wife and him that he hadn't been able to refuse. He had a five-hour drive in front of him, longer with all this snow, but he had a fat check in hid wallet and enough excitement about that to make the miles fly past. He glanced at his watch, picked up the thermos he'd brought in from the car to be filled with coffee, smiled at the children eating with their mother in the adjoining booth, and walked up to the cash register to pay his bill.

As he emerged from the building, he stopped in surprise as a squad car suddenly made a frantic U-turn in front of him, turned on its siren, then shot out of the parking lot onto the highway, its rear end fishtailing in the thin blanket of snow. Distracted by that, he didn't notice the dark-haired man squatting beside the rear wheel of his car on the driver's side until he almost stumbled over him. He stood up abruptly, towering over him from a height of about 6", and he took a startled, cautious step backward, his voice shaky with alarm and suspicion. "What are you doing there?" he demanded, frowning at his own image as it was reflected back at his from the silvery lenses of his aviator sunglasses.

Zayn actually managed a semblance of a smile because his mind had finally started working, and he now knew exactly how he was going to get him to offer a ride. Imagination and the ability to improvise had been two of his biggest assets as a director. Realizing he had mistaken this very beautiful and delicate boy as a woman when he was in the cafe,  nodding toward his rear tire, which was very obviously flat, he said, "I'm planning to change your tire for you if you have a jack."

Harry's breath came out in a rush of chagrin. "I'm sorry for being so rude, but you startled me. I was watching that squad car tearing out of here."

"That was Joe Loomis, a local constable," Zayn improvised smoothly, deliberately making it sound as if the cop was a friend of his. "Joe got another call and had to leave, or he'd have given me a hand with your tire."

Harry's fears were completely allayed, and he smiled at him. "This is very kind of you," he said, opening the tailgate of the Blazer and looking for a jack. "This is my brother's car. The jack is somewhere in here, but I'm not sure where."

"There," Zayn said, quickly locating the jack and taking it out. "This will only take a few minutes," he added. He was in a hurry, but no longer fighting down panic. The man already thought he was friendly with the local sheriff, so he'd naturally think he was trustworthy, and after he changed the tire, he'd owe him a ride. Once they were on the road, the police wouldn't give them a second glance because they'd be looking for a man who was traveling alone. For now, if anyone noticed him, he would appear to be an ordinary man changing a tire while his friend looked on. "Where are you headed?" he asked, using the jack.

"East toward Dallas for a long way and then south," Harry said, admiring his easy skill with the heavy vehicle. He had an unusually nice voice, uncommonly deep and smooth, and a strong, square jawline. His hair was dark brown and very thick, but poorly cut, and he wondered idly what he looked like without the concealing barrier of those reflective sunglasses. Very handsome, he decided, but it wasn't his good looks that kept drawing his eyes back to his profile, it was something else, something illusive that he couldn't pinpoint. Harry shrugged the feeling off, and cradling the thermos in his arm, he embarked on polite conversation. "Do you work around here?"

"Not any more. I was supposed to start a new job tomorrow, but I have to be there by seven in the morning or they'll give it to someone else." He finished jacking the car up and began loosening the lug bolts on the tire, then he nodded toward the nylon duffel bags that Harry hadn't seen before because they had somehow gotten shoved under the car. "A friend of mine was supposed to pick me up here two hours ago and give me a ride part of the way," he added, "but I guess something happened and he isn't going to make it."

"You've been waiting out here for two hours?" Harry exclaimed. "You must be frozen."

He kept his face averted, apparently concentrating on his task, and Harry restrained the peculiar urge to try to bend down and get a longer, closer look at him. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love one."

Rather than use up what was in the thermos, Harry headed back into the café. "I'll get it for you. How do you drink it?"

"Black," Zayn said, fighting to keep his frustration in check. He was heading southeast from Amarillo, whereas his destination was four hundred miles to the northwest. He stole a glance at his watch and began working even faster. Nearly an hour and a half had passed since he walked away from the warden's car, and his risk of capture was increasing every moment he stayed around Amarillo. Regardless of which way the the boy was going, he had to go with him. Putting some miles between himself and Amarillo was all that matter now. He could ride with him for an hour and double back via a different route later.

The waitress needed to brew another pot of coffee, and by the time Harry returned to his car with the steaming paper cup, his rescuer had nearly finished changing the tire. Snow was already two inches deep on the ground and the biting wind was gathering force, whipping the sides of his coat open and making his eyes water. He saw him rub his bare hands together and thought of the new job that was waiting for him tomorrow—if he could get there. He knew jobs in Texas, especially blue-collar jobs, were scarce, and based on his lack of a car, he was probably badly in need of money. His jeans were new, he realized, noticing for the first time the tell tale vertical crease down the front of the legs when he stood up. He had probably bought them in order to make a good impression on his future employer, he decided, and the thought of him doing that sent sympathy pouring through, him.

Harry had never before offered a hitchhiker a ride; the risks were far too high, but he decided to do it this time, not only because he'd changed her tire or because he seemed nice, but also because of a simple pair of jeans—new jeans. New jeans, stiff and spotless, obviously purchased by a jobless man who was pinning all his hopes on a brighter future that wasn't going to materialize unless someone gave him a ride at least partway to his destination so he could start to work.

"It looks like you're finished," Harry said, walking up to him. He held the cup of coffee out to him and he took it in hands that were red from the cold. There was an aloofness about him that made him hesitate to offer him money, but on the chance he'd prefer that to a ride, he offered anyway. "I'd like to pay you for changing the tire," he began, and when he curtly shook his head, he added, "In that case, can I give you a ride? I'm going to take the interstate east."

"I'd appreciate the ride," Zayn said, accepting his offer with a brief smile as he quickly reached down and pulled the nylon duffel bags out from under the car. "I'm heading east, too."

When they got into the car, he told him his name was Alan Aldrich. Harry introduced himself as Harry Styles, (because come what may Harry still had a brother who was a sheriff he had to be as cautious as he could, so telling the stranger his former surname made him a little more safe), but to make certain he realized he was offering him a ride and nothing more, he carefully addressed him the next time he spoke as Mr. Aldrich. He picked up his cue and thereafter called him Mr. Harry.

Harry relaxed completely after that. The formality of Mr. Harry was completely reassuring, and so was his immediate acceptance of their situation. But when he remained absolutely silent and distant thereafter, he began to wish he hadn't insisted on formality. He knew he wasn't good at hiding his thoughts, therefore he'd probably realized at once that he was putting him in his place—a needless insult, considering that he'd shown him only gallant kindness by changing his tire.