Lost in the middle of nowhere

GOOD DIRECTIONS

✧ ✧ ✧

Working the late shift was no one's idea of a good time when you're only at the young age of twenty-eight. But, that wasn't the case for Mr. Weeks. No, his idea of a good time was maintaining his convenience store in his hometown of St Francisville, Louisiana. Even if it was nearing 2 A.M. You see, the man didn't have that many friends and his family was pretty much none exists since they skipped states and left the store to Dallon. it wasn't anything to write home about, but it was all he had left. Well, besides his family home near the bayou. It also wasn't anything special, but they were his and he was a little proud of the fact.

His family insisted that they move away from Louisiana, away from their lineage but Dallon was proud of where his family came from. He was dignified when it came to his family, a family that left him the dust for 'something better.' Dallon couldn't blame them for leaving, for finding somewhere better than a small town basically in the middle of nowhere, for leaving him.

He wasn't entirely alone, he had a few distant cousins, and one of them even worked at the local police department as the sheriff of the county. Another worked at and owned May's diner not too far from his own, It that was just before the interstate.

It was nice to have someone he could rely on when it came to the police department. Not everyone in the district was honest and law-abiding. There were so many corrupt cops that Dallon almost gave up filing reports when his shop was robbed a few times, and he was almost certain that it wouldn't be the last time. Joe, his second cousin on his ma - maw's side of the family, was a damn good sheriff and friend. They were almost like brothers despite being distant family and he couldn't ask for anyone better to waste time with.

Joe was with him that night, just talking about anything and nothing at all when the bell above the door rang, signaling a new arrival. Little did Dallon know, the description was spot on. He never saw the brown-eyed boy around the small town before. But, damn was he gorgeous. Brown eyes, dark brown hair that was almost raven. Lips that looked to be from any Cajun woman. They were full and plump.

As the brown-eyed boy moved closer to the counter, Dallon realized that he wasn't a boy at all, but a man that seemed to be in his early twenties or maybe late teens. Dallon gazed at the man's ageless complexion. He had 'Hollywood' written all over him by the choice of clothing. Black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees, a plain white T-shirt that was accented with a black leather jacket, and a pair of Ray-ban aviators that hung from the front pocket. 

"Hi," The fellow said with a sheepish smile. "I might be a little lost. You wouldn't happen to know how far New Orleans is from here, would you? I wasn't even meant to be here, but I somehow lost my GPS signal about ten miles outside of town. I mean, I know there isn't much out here, but I kind of figured there would be a satellite signal somewhere and I know it's -"

Dallon stopped listening to the rambling. Not because it was uninteresting or he was some kind of a jerk. No, he was entranced by the way the man's jaw moved as he spoke about his travels, the way his nose scrunched when he spoke about almost hitting an animal that crossed the road when he was coming into town, my guess it was a Nutria. For those that don't know what a Nutria is, It's a species of rodent that resembles a beaver. But, they can but a helluva lot more aggressive, and carry many diseases.

"As I said, I know it's late, but is there any way either of you kind gentlemen could tell me how I can get to New Orleans from here?" The nameless man finally stopped rambling. The more Dallon looked at him, the more he realized how exhausted the brown-eyed man looked. It was more than just traveling to make someone look so - spiritually - exhausted.

"Y - you, uh," Dallon stumbles over his words and he wasn't usually like this. He was confident, collected, and optimistic. What has this man done to him by just walking into his small shop? The taller of the three clears his throat while his cousin looks amused. "You just take a left when you get back on the road, and you'll find a sign a few miles down that says 'May's,' She's my cousin and makes the best sweet tea. It's open 24/7 but I don't know if she'll be there this late. You should stop by before heading that way. She's always looking for new faces." Joe chuckles and the brown-eyed boy was waiting for the tall giraffe man to continue. "Anyway, you take another left from there and you'll be on the interstate. It's only about an hour's drive. But, if you take a right, it'll bring you right back here to me."

The brown-eyed boy nods. "Thank you - um -"

Dallon smiles. The unnamed boy wanted to know his name and it pleased Dallon regardless if it was just out of courtesy. "Dallon. Dallon Weekes."

"It's nice to meet you, Dallon. I'm Brendon. Brendon Urie." Dallon mentally whacked himself in the face for not recognizing the stranger sooner. His face was plastered on at least five out of six billboards in New Orleans for different brands of stuff, ranging from clothes to cars. You name it, and Brendon has promoted it. Dallon wonders why an established model was on his way to New Orleans, but he didn't say anything because Joe never gave him the chance.

"Why are you headed to New Orleans?" Joe said in his formal tone. "Ain't nothing out there this time of year besides a bunch of drunks and a few tweakers."

Brendon's smile falters for a second before it comes back full force, if not a little more beautiful. Dallon hasn't seen someone so - entrancing. "Not to be rude, sir -" Brendon leans over the counter to get a better look at Joe's nametag and squints. " - LeBlanc, but I don't see how that's any of your business. Far as I can tell, New Orleans isn't in your jurisdiction." Brendon grins. "Don't worry, I'm not going to go on a murdering spree or anything. I just - have some time off and want to use it wisely." Brendon's smile slowly fades like he was reliving a memory. By the way his whole demeanor changed in a matter of seconds, it was probably one he wished to forget, Dallon thought.

There was a long heavy silence between the three men, and Brendon took the opportunity to excuse himself. Maybe he could find a room nearby and head to New Orleans in the morning. That sounded like a better plan than driving through and falling asleep regardless if it was only an hour away. The boy was exhausted, both mentally and physically. "Well, thank you for your Cajun hospitality, Mr. Weekes. Maybe the fates will be in our favor and we'll meet again?" Brendon's smile quickly returns, offering the taller man a wink.

"It was nice to meet you, Urie. Now maybe you should be on your way." Joe said in a formal tone once again and Brendon snorts. Well, maybe not everyone was so friendly, or maybe he knew rgaf Brendon was labeled as a missing person and was trying to give him a head start before calling the encounter in. Either way, Brendon certainly didn't like this LeBlanc guy. Now Dallon, that was an entirely different story. He was tall and seemed to be a really sweet person. Perhaps his words were truthful. Maybe the fates will bring them back together at some point in their lives. That's if Brendon doesn't get caught and is sent back home to the life he was running from. May the odds be in his favor.

Dallon sheepishly smiles at Brendon, almost apologetic because of his cousin's misbehavior, and Brendon nods in a silent understanding. "Until next time, Mr. Weekes." Brendon offers a half-hearted wave while turning on his heels.

"It was nice to meet you, Brendon!" Dallon hollers as Brendon was walking out the door.

Brendon left with many thoughts, mainly the cute giraffe man used his first name. He truly hoped the fates would be in his favor. Just this once.

✧ ✧ ✧