The hypnotic hum of the wheels and the patter of rain on the window echoed in the sound of tapping keys on Ricky’s laptop as the gray skies, empty landscape, and screen of soporific contracts lulled him into drowsiness.
From the lounge at the back of the bus, breaking the peaceful spell, came the moans and dirty sex talk of Bo’s latest video.
“You mind turning that down?” Ricky said.
“Why? Is it a problem?”
“I need to make a few calls and I don’t want it to sound like I’m at a bordello.”
Bo hit the mute button. “Nothing wrong with a bordello.” He folded his arms, leaned back against the sofa cushions and sulked.
Ricky edged against the window and put the BlackBerry to his ear.
The tires sizzled on wet pavement, the rain beat harder against the glass, and from a tiny leak in the window seal, an occasional drip splashed onto the sill. With any luck, Bo wouldn’t figure out he wasn’t calling anyone until they got to town.
He balled up someone’s discarded jacket for a pillow and, soothed by the peaceful sounds of a rainy afternoon on the road, settled in for a nap.