PARKING

Jess parks. Caleb hands her styrofoam takeout box. Zippos cigarette drags exhales. They sit silent. Watch smoke roll into windshield spin and settle. Thisn burnin my leg, Jess says. Hot as hell. She puts the box on the dash. Rubs her brown thigh. Pulls at frayed denim on her cutoffs. Grabs the box. Opens the box. Underside of top beaded with water. Hate gettin takeout. They soggy now. Aint crunchy no more. Fries soggy too. She grabs her purse. Puts on lipgloss. Looks in rearview. Purses lips. Caleb smokes. Jess chews a gizzard. Spits it out. Aint even warm. Turns and looks at Caleb. How this box hottern hell and them chicken gizzards aint even warm. Turns radio on. Uriah Heep, "Wizard."

Turns volume up. Caleb turns it down. Stubbs his cigarette out in the ashtray. He rolls the window down. Hot in here, Caleb says. Indian Summer. Got to be nearn 85. Almost frickin hall ween, Caleb says. Hear cars passing beyond the pines, Highway 16. Found this record at home an it has daddy's name writ on outside of it, Jess says. Sayn Thomas Pembsy on it an I open it up an there all this dry grass in the middle of the record an all these little seeds. Caleb snorts. Sound like Mr Pembsy rolt laughin bone on that rec, Jess. She laughs looks herself in the mirror. My perm comin out. She turn and look at Caleb. You think my perm comin out? Naw. It look good, Caleb says. Oh shit you seen that deer run cross there? The Allman Brothers, "Ramblin Man." Jess sticks her tongue out at Caleb. Jess sings. My father was a gambla dow en jor geh. Got a pretty voice Jess, Caleb said. Zippos cigarette. Turns around. Reaches in back. Hear ice and water sloshing. Grabs two beers. Pops one. Want this? Jess grabs it. Drinks. Turns radio up. Goddamn there goen anothern, Caleb says. Looklike a six pointer.

Caleb reaches over into Jess' takeout box. Grabs handful of fried gizzards. Sticks them in his mouth. He chews. They aint good is they? Jess says. Caleb says something while chewing, shrugs. Ew I aint believe you eatin them like that. Caleb swallows. They put any packets of hotsauce in that bag? I aint seen em if they did, Jess says. Motley Crue, "Home Sweet Home." Jess turns radio up. Looks at herself in rearview. Purses lips. Runs hands through hair. Highlit blonde and white on chestnut brown. Dreamcatcher earrings. Halter. Cuttoffs. No shoes. Toenails hotpink. Barefeet blackern owlshit. Chrise there a doe an she done lookin for them boys come through here, Caleb says. He looks around. Finishes his beer. Crushes can. Throws it in back. Pulls pint Southern Comfort out bubbles it hands it to Jess. Jess puts it between her legs. She puts Caleb's hand on the pint. He looks at her. Takes the pint and sips. Jess leans over breathes hard into Caleb's ear. Gives Caleb the gooseflesh. Tongues his earlobe. Caleb shivers. Goddamn theren a ten pointer now, he says. What the hell is this a goddamn whitetail party? Jess pushes off. You gone stick your dick inem or what, she says.