“Low Road”: Chapter 7


The chapters are getting shorter. I’m aware of that. I don’t know if I’m being more discerning with what I keep in, or if I’m too lazy to consolidate chapters. (It’s both)

But there you have it.

Recap: Rod goes on a bender with writer Jack Schilling where he experiences a health scare. Later, Rod attends a party with the girl of his deranged dreams, the trailer park beauty Taryn. There, he takes a hallucinogen.

Chapter 7

The trip carried on.

At times I was vulnerable. Other times I was affectionate. Taryn was there to guide me. She never left my side.

I was less conscious of time. I didn’t know when night bled into day. Slowly the high began to fade. I was tired yet refreshed.

I don’t know what I took. Probably LSD. It lingered for hours. The party slowly faded. Sandy went her way. It was now only Taryn and me. It was 11 in the morning.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, now wearing her pajama bottoms.

“Like I spent eternity on the dunes of Zerzura.”

We were alone at last. I didn’t want to leave. We ate breakfast then began boozing. Taryn provided me with more unknown substances. Likely meth. I needed a second wind. We often laid on the floor. I was once again lost between the imagination and reality. Time meant nothing. I focused on the two of us.

“Why here?” I asked. “Why stay in this godforsaken toilet?”

“The world is a toilet. You and I are just pieces of shit”

“So stay here or float somewhere else? “

“You’re a writer. I’ll be an actress. Let’s move to LA and be fucking pieces of shit there.”

Taryn crawled on top of me and began to grind. I wanted to be with this woman. I saw her nude body for the first time. It was what I was missing in life. It wasn’t just fucking. I’ve done that plenty of times. I don’t know what it was. We slept naked for hours. Occasionally we’d wake up to fuck again.

Her scent covered my body. It covered my pillow.

I was in Taryn’s trailer for days. People drifted in and out. Jeremy returned. Sandy returned. I presumed she made her money selling drugs. Various cowboys that she’d string along occasionally payed her bills.

When I did leave, I didn’t know what day it was. My phone died. After charging it, there was a text message from everyone. Jeanne wanted to know what happened to me. Sean did too. Even Jack reached out. He read the shit I wrote on his typewriter. He wanted me to come by.

I ventured back to Kansas.

When I arrived, Jack was wearing the same shit as the last time I saw him. He handed me a glass of vodka that I didn’t ask for.

“Look, I have this idea that I can’t get rid of.” He told me. “But haven’t written shit in two years.”
“You told me that.”
“Why don’t you fucking write it?”

I could only remotely relate to what Jack was talking about. He was going through his own thing at that moment. I didn’t have much energy to keep up.

“What’s your idea?”, I ask.

“A guy wins the lottery. He plans on leaving town. But he stops at a strip club before he leaves. A stripper agrees to have sex with him, and he pays her a lot of money. The stripper’s boyfriend finds out about this and he’s furious. So he attempts to find the guy. The stripper, meanwhile, hooks up with the lottery guy and they kill her boyfriend. They bury him in the middle of nowhere. Now they have to spend the rest of their lives together knowing that they killed a guy.”, Jack told me

I didn’t like it. He probably thought of it that morning.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yeah, help me write it.”

That was that. I agreed to do it. The fuck else was I going to do? I was to turn his shitty story into a decent one.

We started to hash out the details. We got high. No one took notes.

We continued this bullshit for a while. Jeanne was blowing up my phone. It then occurred to me that I was missing for several days.

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