Chapter Text
I was riding shotgun
With my hair undone
In the front seat of his car
He's got a one-hand feel
On the steering wheel
The other on my heart
Joey stared at her reflection in the dark car window as Pacey drove them away from the prison. Why had she agreed to this stupid idea in the first place? Okay, fine , it had been her own stupid idea. She’d practically begged Pacey to drive her up here, and she’d known that visiting hours would be well and truly over, but she’d thought… She shook her head in frustration. What had she thought? That her sob story would convince the guards to let her see her father in the middle of the night? That Pacey could use that silver tongue of his to talk them into it?
“You okay?”
Joey was startled out of her reverie by the sound of Pacey’s voice. She turned to look at him, and saw that familiar concern etched across his brow. They were barely a mile down the road and he was already asking if she was okay. It had taken Dawson four hours to get to that point, because he’d fallen asleep on the bus and spent the entire trip drooling on her shoulder. The question hadn’t even seemed to occur to him until they’d been standing outside the prison itself, and she’d been shaking with anticipation over having to go in.
Are you okay?
“Do I look okay?” she snapped before she could stop herself.
She never could stop herself from being mean to Pacey. She didn’t know why. There was just something about him that rubbed her up the wrong way. Always had, probably always would.
“I’m sorry, Joey.”
His words surprised her. Again.
“Why are you apologising? It’s not your fault.” She sighed. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. I’m the one who dragged you out here.”
“I meant, I’m sorry you didn’t get to see your dad tonight. I tried slipping the guard twenty bucks, but he wouldn’t go for it.”
Joey’s mouth dropped open. “You tried to bribe a prison guard?” she asked in disbelief. “You realise that’s illegal, right?”
“So did he, apparently. Either that, or it takes a lot more than twenty bucks. But that’s all I had in my pocket, so…” He sighed. “We could hit an ATM, try again. How much money do you have?”
She just kept staring at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Being so nice to me.”
He shrugged. “Beats me, Potter. It’s not like you’ve ever said a kind word to me in your entire life.”
She frowned. “That’s not true.”
“No?”
“No. I…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of something. “I said you’d get out of Capeside too, remember?”
“I do.” He grinned, gesturing to the dark road ahead. “And look at us now. I know that prison wasn’t exactly the ivy covered institution of your dreams, but it’s a start, right?”
She glared at him, slapping him on the arm. “Just when I start to think you’re a decent person, you say something like that.”
“Sorry.”
Joey sighed.
“So what do you want to do now?” he asked.
“What else is there? Drive home and try again another day. If I can rustle up enough money for bus fare, and somehow escape Capeside without Bessie finding out about it.”
“Where does Bessie think you are right now?”
“Uh…” Joey shrugged. “Probably at Dawson’s.”
“Do you want to call her?”
“And tell her I’m on the road with you? Absolutely not.”
He rolled his eyes. “No, to tell her you’re at Dawson’s. In case she calls his house. You know, for someone as practiced as you are at lying, you really aren’t that good at it.”
“Excuse me? I’m not practiced at lying.”
“Give me a break. You lie constantly. We all know it.”
“I do not!”
“You’re lying right now.”
Joey turned her head and stared out the window. “I hate you.”
He smirked. “Liar.”
They drove without talking for a few minutes. Pacey turned up the volume on the radio, which he’d tuned into his favourite classic rock station and refused to change, despite her constant requests. The DJ had lined up a ‘Best of Meatloaf’ mix, and Pacey drummed his hands on the steering wheel to ‘Bat out of Hell” as they drove.
Oh, baby you're the only thing in this whole world
That's pure and good and right
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There's always gonna be some light,
But I gotta get out, I gotta break out now
Before the final crack of dawn
So we gotta make the most of our one night together
When it's over, you know,
We'll both be so alone…
The car slowed down and Joey looked around to see they were pulling into a 24-hour convenience store.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m starving,” Pacey told her. “Remember how I came to the Ice House for dinner, and you not only refused to feed me, but then talked me into driving for over two hours, still on an empty stomach? If I’m not going to pass out from hunger on the way home, I need sustenance.”
“Whatever.” Although now that he mentioned it, Joey was pretty hungry herself. She reached into her pocket for her wallet, and came up empty. Shit.
“And unless I’m very much mistaken, that right there is a pay phone,” he added, stopping the car outside the building. “So you can check in with Bessie.”
Joey frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because unlike me, you have people at home who care about you,” Pacey said, putting the Wagoneer in park. “And as tempting as I know it is for you, you really shouldn’t antagonise them into hating you. Trust me, it’s exhausting.”
She sighed, unclipping her seatbelt. “I don’t have any money. I forgot my wallet.”
Pacey rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. Look in the glove compartment, there’s usually some loose change rolling around in there. I’m going to get something to eat.”
He opened his door and stepped out of the car, leaving her to fend for herself.
Pacey walked the aisles of the brightly lit convenience store, grabbing bags of potato chips and Cheez-its, two Snickers bars for himself and a granola bar for Joey, then went to the drinks fridge and snagged a bottle of Pepsi, and a Diet Coke for her. After a moment, he also got a bottle of water and an iced tea, since he wasn’t sure if she would drink soda at this time of night. She had some weird hangup about too much sugar after midnight, and although it wasn't quite that late just yet, it wasn’t too far off, either. Pacey made his way toward the counter when a neon sign caught his eye, and he grinned.
When he came outside, Joey was just hanging up the phone.
“That was close,” she told him as he set the paper bag of food onto the hood of the car and leaned against the front bumper, holding the cardboard tray of nachos in his other hand.
“What was?”
“Those sirens.” She held up her index finger, and Pacey heard the distant wail of a police siren. “Not sure how I could explain to Bessie that sound was coming from Dawson’s bedroom.”
Pacey shrugged. “Tell her you’re watching a movie.”
She blinked. “Oh. Yeah. That would’ve made sense.”
He shoved a corn chip dripping with cheese into his mouth. “You know, for a bright girl, you can be really daft sometimes,” he mumbled through the food.
Joey narrowed her eyes at him. “What culinary masterpiece have you bought us for dinner?”
“Us?” he asked, feigning surprise as he swallowed. “Who said anything about us ? This is for me. Buy your own food.”
Her face clouded over. “I told you, I don’t have any money.”
“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you came all the way out here,” he teased, then relented. “Lucky for you, that twenty was burning a hole in my pocket, so I bought enough for two people. But I’m not sharing my nachos.”
“Good. You can have that food poisoning all to yourself.” She looked around. “First, I need the bathroom.”
He pointed to the sign on the wall, and she sighed again and marched away. He watched her leave, wondering why he continued to antagonise her. He just loved to see that irritated look on her face. Not that he wanted her to be irritated with him, but it was her default expression when she looked at him, and lately it had seemed like the only possible way for him to get her attention at all. On the rare occasions when he’d tried being nice to her, she either got all suspicious about his motives, or got angry and ignored him completely. When he’d sent her a Valentine in seventh grade, she’d refused to speak to him for a week.
Pacey hopped up onto the hood of the car and kept eating the nachos. The chips were stale and the cheese tasted like melted plastic, but the food was warm, and his stomach was used to taking what it could get. A bright red Corvette pulled in next to him, and he looked at it enviously as a guy in a suit and tie got out.
“Nice car, man.”
The guy shot Pacey a look. “You touch it, I’ll rip your fucking arms off.”
Pacey’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, okay. Jeez.”
He watched the guy go into the convenience store. The passenger door of the Corvette opened, and a woman stepped out. She was tall, blond, and wearing a slinky black dress and heels. Pacey’s jaw dropped as she stretched her arms over her head, her breasts lifting as her back arched, and he felt the blood rush to his groin. He quickly looked away.
“Hey there.”
His head turned to see the woman looking at him. “Uh...are you talking to me?”
“Do you seen anyone else around?” she asked.
Pacey looked around the empty forecourt. “Uh, no. I do not.” He tried for his most disarming smile. “So, what brings you out here at this godforsaken hour?”
She shrugged. “Business.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He looked her up and down. “What kind of business are you in?”
She smiled at him, and he flushed as he suddenly realised what she meant. The woman lifted a finger to her lips to shush him, then dropped him a wink. Before Pacey could say anything else, the guy came back out of the store, tossing and catching a box of condoms. He looked at the woman with a lascivious smile, then shot a dark look at Pacey.
“What’d I say earlier about losing your arms?”
“Relax, Johnny. I was just talking to the kid.”
“Giving him a show, more like,” Johnny grumbled. “Get back in the car.”
Pacey straightened up. “Hey, don’t talk to her like that.”
Johnny turned and glared at him. “Watch your mouth, you little punk. I’ll talk to her however the fuck I want.”
The woman was back in the car. “Come on, Johnny. The night isn’t getting any younger.”
The man shot Pacey one more angry look, then lowered himself into the Corvette and drove away with a squeal of tires. Pacey watched them go. He felt a little sick, although he wasn’t sure if it was just the nachos getting to him.
“You’re going to dent the hood, sitting on it like that.”
He sat up slightly as Joey walked back over, wiping her hands on her jeans. She was wearing an old flannel shirt that he thought he recognised as being one of Dawson’s cast-offs, baggy jeans, truly hideous shoes and a perpetual scowl, yet for some reason Pacey once again felt his groin tighten. Maybe that woman in the black dress had made him so horny that any woman would look beautiful to him tonight. Or maybe it was because it was Joey.
It was always Joey.
“It’s already dented all to hell. Like anyone would notice,” he told her, then motioned to the food next to him. “Pull up a chair.”
Joey rolled her eyes, but hopped up onto the hood next to him. Instead of delving into the bag, she reached over and snagged one of his nacho chips.
“Living life on the edge, I see.”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m a rebel at heart.”
Pacey laughed. “Why do I find that so very hard to believe?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Sitting outside a seedy convenience store on a Friday night with a boy who has a very shady reputation,” she said with a teasing lilt.
“Excuse me?” he protested. She shot him a look, and he scrunched up his nose. “Okay, fine. But I’ll have you know that I’m not nearly as shady as my reputation would imply.”
“Sure, Pace.”
He held the nachos out to her, but she pulled a face and shook her head, swallowing the last of the one chip she’d taken.
“Nope. Those are all yours.” She turned to the paper bag and started rummaging through it. “I hope there’s something edible in here, because that was disgusting.”
She tore open the bag of potato chips, eschewing the Cheez-its with a grimace, and cracked open the bottle of iced tea. Pacey ate most of the nachos, then tossed out the tray before helping her polish off the potato chips. They both finished their meal with a Snickers bar for dessert, the healthy granola bar abandoned at the bottom of the bag.
Pacey slid off the hood and opened his driver’s side door, tossing the paper bag onto the back seat.
“Ready to hit the asphalt again?” he asked Joey, who nodded, climbing into the shotgun seat as he started the Wagoneer.
“What exactly did you tell Bessie?” he asked.
“That I’m staying at Dawson’s tonight.”
“Right. I’m assuming you also called Dawson himself to tell him to cover for you, in case of emergency or if she changes her mind.” He grinned at the look on her face. “God, you’re an amateur.”
“Shut up. I only had enough change to make one call.”
“You really do live life on the edge.”
“Told ya.”
Up ahead, she could see the lights of the motel where she’d stayed with Dawson the night before. Pacey slowed down, and hit the turn signal.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m tired, Jo. I can’t drive without any sleep. And since you’ve already told Bessie you’re not going to be home tonight, I figured if we stay here, you can try again to see your dad in the morning. Then you don’t have to go home with things left unsaid.”
She said nothing as he pulled into the front of the motel. “I told you already, Pacey. I didn’t bring any money with me.”
“Which is why it’s a good thing I have a part time job and am such a good saver.”
“You? A good saver? Since when?”
“Since I decided I want to move out of home and fend for myself. I didn’t enter that beauty pageant on a whim, you know.”
She raised her eyebrows, unable to stop the smirk on her face. “You didn’t?”
“Uh uh. I needed that money to emancipate myself. Why else do you think I shop exclusively at thrift stores?” he asked, switching off the ignition.
“Your appalling fashion sense?”
“Wrong. My refusal to wear Doug’s hand-me-downs.”
“And a total lack of taste.”
He feigned offence. “I’ll have you know that the Hawaiian shirt is a timeless look.”
“Yeah, it’s a real chick magnet.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she snorted derisively. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this Pacey, but we don’t live in Hawaii.”
“Not yet, anyway.” He reached down to unclip his seatbelt, then stopped as she put her hand over his.
“Pacey.” He looked up into her wide eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”
He swallowed around the lump in his throat caused by her hand on his. “Do you want to sleep in the car?”
“No.”
“Then we do have to do this. Regardless of whether or not we go back to the prison in the morning, I can’t drive any further without at least a couple hours sleep.”
He unclipped the seatbelt, and she withdrew her hand.
“What makes you think this place rents rooms by the hour?”
Pacey looked across at the Corvette parked at the other end of the building. “Call it a hunch.”