One For The Road ✔ | A short novella |

4. New York - Washington - Florida

Chapter Four

New York - Washington - North Carolina - Florida

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"We came! We saw! We kicked its ass!" Ghostbusters - Ellis

TriBeCa, NYC, early morning - August 4th

Ellis

"Come on, give me your best smile," Jessie orders. "Don't be shy now."

I bare my teeth and do as I'm told. I'm way too grateful right now to let on that she's embarrassing me in front of what feels like several hundred other tourists, vying for the best spot outside the red-fronted firestation.

"Say cheese!"

I stand with my hands deep in my jean pockets and grin like a cheshire cat. I mean, it's not all that hard. I'm happy, ridiculously so. Who wouldn't be with a friend who packs all your stuff before you wake and who doesn't mind returning back to a place miles away from our intended destination?

Jessie had woken me at 7am, already dressed, if not a bit hungover herself, with a toasted bagel in one hand and my FDNY t-shirt in the other.

"We, young man are headed back to the firestation, right now. Because there is no way we're leaving this city without a picture of your beaming mug outside of it again, alright?"

I didn't put up much of a fight, even though I knew that secretly, deep down she'd be worrying about the serious lack of time to get back to JFK and pick up the car we'd be driving down through Washington, North Carolina, and then into Florida to our second official destination - Miami Beach.

"You're the best, Jessie," I tell her loudly, once she's uploaded all this mornings pictures to a dropbox and emailed them to her folks, just as another precaution.

"You keep saying that."

"And I'll keep saying it until it's not true anymore."

Jessie tosses back her lions mane of blonde, curly hair. Some of it catches in my mouth. "If you want to repay me for such awesomeness, then you can do so by allowing me to nap on the back seat till we reach Washington because I. Am. Hanging. That fifth cocktail was not a good idea or the tequila shots."

"Deal," I say, as we race across busy New York streets, towards our hotel so we can check out, take the subway to the airport and pick up a car Jessie's dad has arranged for us.

"You can stop smiling now," she says, with gruff laughter.

'Why?"

"Because seeing you smile all the god damn time makes me smile all the god damn time and my cheeks are aching something fierce, that's why."

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Washington D.C, August 4th

As I navigate my way out of Washington D.C and my chief map reader kips again on the back seat, I wonder if Jessie's mum had more to do with the booking of our rental car than her dad ever did.

Upon picking it up from JFK, we'd first thought it must be a joke but the stocky, stern guy at the rental office didn't look the type to pull pranks. He handed us the keys, made us sign away a mammoth stack of paper work and maybe our souls, and told us to have a safe trip, without a hint of genuine concern.