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"This is a bad idea," Gareth says, arms crossed tight against his chest.
Yeah, well. Most of Eddie's ideas are bad. Nothing is new about that. At least this one has the promise of a pot of gold at the end of the stupidity.
Eddie splays the map out on the table, smoothing his hands over it, trying to work out the wrinkles. "Just look at the route. It's doable. And think of the money. It's a lot of money. Record an album money. New guitar money."
"Quit our jobs money," Goodie adds. "Or, at least take a sabbatical."
Jeff is being quiet, but Eddie expected nothing less. Jeff will hear the pitch, let Eddie sell the idea, fair and square. He always does. No matter how outlandish the proposal.
Eddie points at where they are, as if these chuckleheads don't already know, and then traces his finger towards Washington. Through Illinois and Missouri. Up through Nebraska, South Dakota, and then they'd head on west. Goodie, Jeff and Gareth all have trucks. They've been long-hauling for a few years, after Wayne got them into it. A way to make good money. The trade-off is that they just aren't home a lot, and that kind of sucks for Eddie.
Eddie wasn't interested in driving a truck. He's not the best driver, historically. A 40 ton truck seemed like a bad idea. That, and they wouldn't give him a CDL after he flunked the test three times.
But he didn't want to do it anyway. Honest.
"We can do it in about 72 hours, if we haul ass," Eddie says. "You two in your trucks. Gareth and I, running blocker."
Goodie scoffs, "You're overestimating how fast our rigs can roll, Ed. Maybe you two can run it in three days in your four wheelers. But I'm doubting even that. Your van isn't exactly a sports car. And we all know the El Camino is a piece of shit."
"Hey!" Gareth snaps, offended. Goodie's not wrong. That car of his will top out at 90 on a good day. And its good days are far behind it.
So, Goodie's got them there.
Gareth and Goodie keep bickering, and Eddie finally waves his hands in the air, trying to get the room back under control.
"We'll be traffickers," Jeff says, finally speaking once order is somewhat restored. He's not wrong. It's a lot of weed.
They've never done anything this risky.
"This isn't Smokey and the Bandit, you know that, right? This isn't a movie. We shouldn't run too hot. That's just asking for trouble. Prison trouble," Jeff adds. "Nobody's just gonna watch us drive away, scot-free, in the end if they catch wind of what we're doing."
Reefer Rick is gonna want it delivered fast, he's never been the most patient of men, but he's also gonna want to get it without it being seized somewhere in the middle nowhere more.
"Faster on the way up while we're empty, and then slower on the way home when we're loaded," Eddie concedes, and they all nod in agreement.
That will help, but it's still a risk they're taking.
"Wayne might shake the trees for us," Eddie suggests, because Eddie bets he would for a small cut of the product. He's an old hippie at heart. Definitely isn't a drug runner of any sort, and Eddie wouldn't ask him to start now, but smoking grass is something Eddie came by honestly. Wayne would probably try to keep them out of trouble. He's done that for Eddie as long as Eddie can remember.
"Yeah, a decoy on the way back might be handy if we're about to get pinched, we can use him to pull focus," Goodie suggests, and yeah. They definitely could. A speeding ticket ain't nothing on a trafficking charge.
"Okay, so if we can do it in four days, we're still good, right?" Eddie asks, and they all kind of murmur in a not entirely convinced fashion. Oh, they're good.
They aren't good. Goodie and Jeff are out ahead in their trucks, and Eddie's supposed to be running lead blocker, and well, now he's sitting on the side of the road with the van rolling smoke out from under the hood. Fuck.
This was not the smoking they were hoping for when they started this run. He should have known it wasn't going to go smoothly. Nothing ever does for them.
Gareth slows, and Eddie waves him on, picking up the mic of his CB radio before they get too far out of range, "Uh. It's Banished. Keep going. I've just got a little delay."
Goodie cusses him when he comes through, but he'll be fine. Gareth's still running with them. Wayne's supposed to rendezvous with them in Omaha. Eddie'll just have to catch up, somehow.
Eddie can see the nearest town, and he starts walking, hoping for a mechanic's shop on the outskirts. A draggin' wagon. Anything. Instead, he sees a black sports car sitting on the front lawn of a house. A Trans Am, with a hastily handwritten 'for sale' sign in the window and 'best offer' on the windshield.
It's beautiful, and it looks fast.
Plus, it has an antenna on top, so clearly there's a CB already inside. Perfect.
Peeking in the driver's side window, the odometer is low. Low, low. There's no way he can afford this car, but it's exactly what he needs. His best offer can be a charming smile. He walks up and knocks on the door.
The guy that answers is in a polo shirt, all tucked in, neat and tidy. He doesn't at all look like he belongs in that car. Eddie looks to his left. This guy definitely belongs in the executive BMW that's sitting in the driveway.
"You here about the car?" the guy asks, and Eddie nods.
Then he leans over, grabbing a set of keys off the table, and giving them a toss to Eddie. Closing his front door behind him, "Test drive?"
Eddie nods dumbly. He doesn't really have time to bullshit around, but the car is gorgeous and the guy is stunning, and well, the other guys can surely handle this until he can catch up. Ten extra minutes won't hurt. He's already late.
He watches the guy unlatch the removable t-top panels from both doors, stowing them in the trunk. That's a neat trick.
"I'm Steve," he says, holding out his hand for Eddie.
Eddie grips it, giving it a firm shake, "Eddie."
"Let's take her for a spin," Steve offers, and Eddie isn't going to turn that down, no way in hell.
He peels out of the driveway, and Steve doesn't chastise him. Instead, he laughs, throwing both of his hands up in the air. Like he's having fun. If Steve enjoys this feeling, this rush, shouldn't he just keep the car?
Eddie wants to show off, and wishes this hot rod had four on the floor, but has to settle for just buzzing around an old man out for Sunday drive on this sleepy town's empty main street.
When Steve smiles at him, Eddie can no longer try to make sense of this. Because, oh, Eddie's gonna be in trouble with this one. Fuck the car. He just may want to keep Steve.
Eddie opens it up on the highway. It is fast, and the wind is blowing in both of their hair. Steve is giggling beside him, like he's delighted, and Eddie can't help staring at him.
He's gorgeous. All that hair, and those moles. Preppy or not, he's definitely Eddie's type. He doesn't know whose type he wouldn't be, though.
"You wanna go on a little adventure?" Eddie suddenly asks, because he can't think of a better shotgun rider to have with him for these next few days. He's pleasantly surprised when Steve laughs some more, like Eddie's crazy, but in a good way. There's a difference, and Eddie's learned it well over the years. He can easily determine if he's been laughed at or laughed with.
Steve's laughing with him, absolutely.
"Where to?"
"Washington state."
Steve seems to contemplate it, as though he's running through his schedule, trying to figure out what thing, if any, is holding him back.
Eddie waits.
And waits.
Finally, Steve smiles, "Best offer I've gotten on it yet. Put the hammer down."
"So, what's the deal with this car?" Eddie asks. It's nice. Hell, it's practically brand new. And Steve's letting Eddie drive it like he stole it.
"It belonged to my ex. He was an asshole. I ditched him, but since I paid for the car, it was mine, and I just wanted it gone. Of course, I didn't assume I'd go with it," Steve says, giving Eddie a soft smile.
"Glad you did," Eddie answers, meaning every word. This is a good car, but Steve's great company.
"How long until we catch up to your friends?" Steve asks, looking over at Eddie.
"Shit," Eddie says, "They probably got an hour out on me. If they're running sixty, we should catch up in two hours. Every five miles faster they're going, add an hour?" Eddie guesses. He thinks that math is basically right. He figures they could catch up in as little as two hours or as many as four.
"Are you a genius or what?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.
"Hardly. Unless geniuses take three times to graduate high school."
"But you did that math in your head?" Steve questions.
"That math benefits me. I can only learn about what interests me," Eddie says, looking in Steve's direction. Steve seems to understand what he means.
"So, we'll catch up in a few hours?" Steve asks.
They're supposed to stop in Omaha to meet up with Wayne. Eddie figures that'll be where he catches up to them, at the latest.
"Faster if we hurry," Eddie says.
"I'm not opposed to a little hurrying," Steve says.
Eddie puts his foot down, ready to see what she can really do. And do, she can.
"Holy shit, is this not governed?" Eddie asks, looking over at Steve.
"He had it removed, I think. Just don't wrap us around a tree, okay?" Steve says.
"I won't, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes. It's endearing.
The universe has never been overly kind to Eddie, but maybe, just maybe, Steve was put in his path to make up for all that.
And so, Eddie keeps speeding along until he hears a report of a Smokey ahead, and eases back off. When they pass the car on the side of the road, partially hidden by some bushes, Eddie's going a respectable five under the speed limit like a perfect angel.
Steve reaches over and squeezes Eddie's thigh, laughing wildly, like they really got away with something, and Eddie is definitely in trouble.
"The Great, you got your ears on? This is The Banished. Over," Eddie says into the mic. Waiting. He's not sure if he's close enough to them yet to be heard.
But a few seconds later, the radio crackles to life, "That's a big 10-4. You finally got that hunk-a-junk running?"
Eddie laughs, "Just give me your mile marker, smart-ass."
They're six miles ahead. Eddie will come up knocking on their backdoors soon enough.
Eddie presses his foot to the ground, moving the needle even further to the right.
"Why are they calling you The Banished?" Steve asks.
"It's my handle. We've all got 'em. The Duke, The Great, The Freak, The Old Man."
"Your uncle doesn't get mad that you call him an old man?"
Eddie's laugh is a loud bark.
"I mean, he might. But he's The Duke. You know, 'cause his name is Wayne. Jeff's our Old Man."
Steve smiles, "Is Jeff old?"
"Nah, younger than me. He's just old at heart. Normal kinda guy surrounded by a bunch of chuckleheads," Eddie says fondly.
Then, he has an idea.
"You know, you probably need a handle yourself, now that you're coming along on the road."
Steve's eyes are wide with what appears to be realization.
"Oooh, you just thought of what it should be," Eddie accuses, "Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."
"No," Steve says.
"Steven…" Eddie says, hedging a guess that that's probably his full name. But he doesn't know his last name. Steve helpfully provides it.
"Harrington."
"Steven Harrington, what were you thinking?"
Steve tilts his head back against the headrest, "You'll never get it out of me."
Oh, the hell he won't. Eddie loves a challenge.
Eddie lets up on the gas, just a little. Keeping Steve to himself a little longer doesn't sound so bad.
They're gonna catch them, and soon, he doesn't need to be a show off to do it.
Well, maybe a little bit of a show off.
He spots them up ahead, and puts the hammer back down, weaving around them, then pulling alongside Gareth, matching his pace.
Gareth looks over, sees Steve, and flips them off.
Eddie picks up the mic, pressing the button, "Now, now, The Great. That isn't very nice."
Gareth looks again, and Eddie throws his hand up out of the open top, flipping him off.
"Fucking hell, Banished, where'd you get the car and The Hair?"
They both laugh. But Steve laughs harder and longer.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"So, funny thing. In high school? They called me Steve "The Hair" Harrington and that's what I thought of when you asked me."
Eddie cackles. It's so perfect he should have thought of it himself. But unfortunately for Eddie, a bunch of high schoolers, and Gareth, beat him to the punch. Still, he loves it. It's fitting, as the best call names are.
Eddie doesn't answer Gareth, just zooms ahead, slotting into the convoy in front of Jeff.
"Was that Banished in that hot rod?" Goodie asks.
Eddie presses the talk button, "Don't you worry about it, Freak."
"Goddammit," Goodie says across the crackly speaker, and Eddie just laughs.
They're not far outside of Omaha. There's a truck stop ahead where Wayne should already be waiting. Or soon to be arriving.
Gareth and Goodie are fighting over the radio. Eddie feels sorry for everyone listening to their channel. It's just nonsense, and has to be annoying for anyone listening.
"Freak, you leave him alone," a voice comes across, and Eddie grins.
"Never," Goodie answers.
"Shut up, Goods," Gareth says, so flustered he reverted to Goodie's regular shortened name, and not his handle. Then, Gareth's voice changes, "Dirty Di, you still ready and willing for us to make a stop?" Gareth asks, flirting with her like he always does. Steve cuts Eddie a look.
"You know it, darlin'," she replies, then adds, "The Duke is waiting."
And that's excellent. They are running on schedule. Then it's blissfully peaceful on the radio for the first time since Eddie caught up with the convoy.
"Diana picks up shifts at the truck stop up ahead. For some reason, she's taken a shine to Gareth. None of us can explain it," Eddie says.
Steve just laughs.
Eddie makes all the introductions to Steve, and Wayne is looking at him like he's no damn fool. He can read Eddie like an open book.
Oh well.
Eddie doesn't mind. He'll take a ration of shit about Steve. He's got Steve in the car with him. He wins. Hands down.
They all stretch their legs, get a bite to eat, Gareth disappears into the employee's only bathroom for a bit, and then they get right back on the road.
Steve sleeps in the passenger seat, and Eddie can't help but sneak looks at him when passing cars illuminate the interior of the car. He really is pretty. And for some reason, he was willing to trust Eddie enough to skip town with him. No real questions asked.
When the sun comes up, they stop at a choke and puke for a quick bite to go, and Eddie has a breakfast biscuit in one hand, his other on the wheel as they haul ass. He keeps his eyes peeled, and his ears on, making sure they don't get pinched by a county mountie looking to make his quota.
Eddie's mouth is full, chewing, when Steve speaks, "So, you ever gonna tell me what we're going after?"
He takes the time to swallow. Buying himself a little extra time.
"Uh, you sure you wanna know?" Eddie questions. He doesn't have to get involved more than he already is.
Steve looks at him like he's an idiot, "Uh, duh. Of course."
"Weed," Eddie admits, "and lots of it."
Steve doesn't seem phased. "Oh. That's cool."
That's very cool indeed.
Pulling up to the farm in Washington is an experience. They are waiting on them, and usher them to the loading area, where it all happens so fucking fast after that. Box after box full of plastic bags. It's professional and orderly, something none of them are. Eddie's never had anything run this smoothly. It's almost scary.
The trucks are loaded, in the most efficient way Eddie's ever seen. The money is exchanged, and Eddie shakes hands. Then, it's time to run it all back home.
Easy as pie.
Except, halfway home, Goodie gets pulled over alongside the road, the lights flashing behind his truck. The rest of the convoy is waved to the shoulder as well.
Well, fuck. He knew they'd been far too lucky so far.
Eddie isn't sure what their play is, but he doesn't have time to think about it. Steve gets out, and stands by the back of Goodie's truck, hands on his hips.
The small town cop approaches, looking flummoxed.
"You're not supposed to get out of your car?" he says, voice lilting up like it's a question.
"Just what are we doing? He wasn't speeding," Steve demands. And Goodie wasn't. None of them were. They were all being perfect angels.
Smokey straightens up, stopping in front of Steve.
"And who are you?" he asks.
Steve holds out his hand, "Steve Roebuck."
"As in…?"
"Exactly. My grandfather started it, god rest his soul. But right now my father left me in charge of getting this purchase order to Hoffman in," Steve says, looking down at his watch, "four hours. My father will lose his mind if I'm late. This is my last strike. So, if we could hurry this up. Do you need to see inside?" Steve asks.
Then, Steve bends down, hand curling into the back handle of the trailer, looking up at the cop. Challenging him to call Steve's bluff. Holy shit.
They stare at each other, and Steve starts pulling up the gate. They did put some of Wayne's load at the back of each truck, but if they probe further than a glance, things are gonna go south. Fast.
The cop folds, "No, it's fine. It was just a little suspicious. This convoy. I mean, even blinkers were being used."
Steve slams the door shut, flipping the handle, latching it again. Laughing along with the cop, smiling a charming as fuck smile. Like he's cool as fucking cucumber.
"The Sears family takes safety very seriously. And, sure. Everybody has a Smokey and the Bandit fantasy from time to time. But, this is just boring business. If you want some free tools, just give me your card. I'll ship you a whole crate of Craftsman. Lifetime warranty. You'd be set."
The cop laughs, "I'm not supposed to take anything. Bribes, you know."
Steve just smiles coyly, like he's flirting without actually flirting. It's honestly kind of impressive to see him turn on that kind of charm, instantaneously.
Then, he tells the cop, "No bribe here. Who's in trouble? Not us. And who's gonna tell? Not me."
And while the two of them are having a grand old time, Eddie's certain he's sweated through his t-shirt. The cop fishes out his card, and writes an address on the back. Steve takes it, and puts it in his wallet with a nod.
"Okay, boys! Let's roll!" Steve yells, and walks towards the driver's side of the Trans Am. Eddie scrambles over the console and flops into the passenger seat. Making a big show of tugging his seatbelt over his shoulder. If Steve wants to drive, he's earned it.
They all pull away from the shoulder, and as Steve passes Goodie's truck, he sticks his arm out of the car, pumping his arm. Goodie complies, laying on the horn.
And then, they're off again.
"Are you really part of the Sears family?" Eddie asks a little later.
Steve giggles, loud and wild, "Nope."
Oh. Eddie wants him. Eddie needs him. Eddie leans over and cups Steve's crotch with one hand, and picks up the mic with the other. "Keep going. We'll be right behind you."
Goodie just groans in disgust over the radio. Fair enough.
Steve pulls them off on a dirt road, and once they're hidden behind a row of trees, Eddie leans over and starts fiddling with the button of Steve's jeans. He's gonna suck his dick so good for keeping them all out of prison.
Oh, fuck yes.
His dick is as beautiful as he is, and Eddie relishes sliding his mouth against Steve's warm skin, Steve's hand resting on the back of his head. Head tossed back against the headrest, moaning the same way that Eddie feels.
Eddie's got his mouth, and one hand on Steve, and his other hand down his own jeans, working them both over until he comes in his own hand and Steve comes in his mouth.
Eddie pulls back, slumping into his seat, breathing hard. Steve's pulling his own hair upward in a way that only makes him look hotter, and Eddie has a handful of come and nowhere to go with it.
Steve reaches in the backseat and grabs a plain white tee, handing it over. Eddie wipes his hand, "Thanks for donating your shirt to the cause."
"Wasn't mine," Steve says, and Eddie laughs at the implication. So far, by Eddie's math, Eddie has taken possession of his car, his guy, and now his shirt. Steve's ex really got the shaft. Good.
They both straighten their clothes back up, and Steve asks, "You gonna kiss me?"
Fuck yes, Eddie's gonna kiss him. He just got the cart a little before the horse. Who could blame him?
Eddie plants his hand on the console, pushing himself over into Steve's personal space, slotting their mouths together in a kiss that would curl Eddie's toes if he hadn't just blown his load.
When Eddie pulls back, Steve smiles, "You wanna drive now?"
"Not unless you don't want to," Eddie says, and Steve shrugs. Turning the ignition back over, and peeling out, kicking up gravel.
"You really aren't the best driver," Steve says, but he's smiling.
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Eddie banters back, resting his hand high up on Steve's thigh, blunt fingernails grazing denim.
A little later, they pull back out onto the highway, and Steve looks over, declaring, "We'll catch them in thirty minutes."
Eddie smiles. They won't. Steve's math is bad, but Eddie couldn't give a flying fuck, especially not after that.
When they do catch up nearly an hour later, they buzz around, and retake their spot in the convoy.
"You get your snake charmed?" Gareth asks over the radio, and Eddie laughs.
"That's a big 10-4, good buddy."
The rest of the trip is uneventful, and Eddie just sits back and watches Steve drive. When they roll back through Steve's hometown, Eddie gets a little tense. Steve just keeps driving. They pass the van outside of town that they'll have to deal with later, but Steve's seeing it through.
Eddie couldn't be more happy.
He reaches over and squeezes Steve's thigh, and the smile Steve gives him is a heartstopper.
They drop Jeff off at the house, their own personal load secure with him, and take what Reefer Rick ordered up out to the lake. They unload it fast, get the rest of the money they were owed, and that's that.
Job over.
Eddie drives them back to the house, and Steve climbs out, looking around at his new surroundings.
"So, this is where we live?"
"We?" Eddie asks, amused. Steve's crazy. Batshit fucking crazy.
Eddie loves crazy.
What doesn't kill him, only makes him stronger and more annoying.
"Yep. Home sweet home."
Steve nods like he approves, then looks over at Eddie, "So, is there a Sears around in this town? I made a promise."
Eddie chuckles, "You're not seriously gonna follow through on that, right?"
"I said I would, and hell, he was cool enough to not cause us any trouble. I can buy some tools. I haven't quit yet. I've still got my employee discount."
Eddie looks at him, "You work at Sears?"
"With my best friend. She's gonna be super mad that I up and disappeared without a word, so buckle up for that."
Eddie shakes his head. Life's gonna be more interesting with Steve around, that's for damn sure.
A few weeks later, the van has been towed back home, Steve has moved in, and Robin's mad, but settled into a rental house a few blocks away. Eddie has learned they are a matched set: do not separate. They haven't had jobs that weren't working together since they were teenagers.
The next order of business was taking the car into the body shop. Eddie has them put the gold Screaming Eagle decal on the hood, a nod to their adventure, as well as both of their handles on the doors.
"The Banished" and "The Hair" in gold lettering on each door, glimmering as they catch the warm sunshine.
Eddie wheels it out onto the street, and finds Steve waiting along the curb. He holds out his thumb, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hops in, smiling about the new decals, and Eddie heads for the highway.
The wind whips through the car as Steve laughs, hands raised over his head. Delighted and delightful.
Eddie is grateful for that run, the best one he's ever had, with the richest payoff he could have ever imagined.