Chapter seven: Gasoline Rainbow, Between Angels and Insects

Thirty minutes in and they were driving on the open road, as the radio set the back drop to Rowland's mind as people talked and songs played; he even forgot about the person sitting next to him. He was always able to coexist with the help of music. He hasn't had a good relationship with another person apart from his girlfriend, mother and boss and on the odd occasion anyone he needed to talk to, most of the close friends he had were back in his home country or somewhere else and truth be told, they probably wouldn't have much to say to each other anyway. Still yawning and tapping his foot to the beat of Jimmy Hendrix' All along the Watchtower, tilting his head to the right and resting it on his shoulder as his elbow lay on the edge of the window.

Nick broke the atmosphere;

"I think you should quit your day job. "

Rowland's head shot up;"Well thanks for the compliment but-"

" I really mean it. Quit.",

Nick said with a serious look on his face, still concentrating on the road.

"Well, I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not? ", Nick asked this question as if he genuinely didn't know the answer.

Rowland did a little laugh at the question and answered; " Well... You may know people but not all of them will like my work, art can be presumptuous especially if you don't really know what message you're relaying. Plus, I'm pretty sure this kinda shit starts out slow."

"True. ", Nick agreed; " But how about this... I'm performing a few pages at this club, it's beat poetry night... "

"And..?", Rowland had a feeling that he was not going to like what he was about say next.

"Would you like to be my interpretive sketch artist?"

Rowland looked at him; "Are you...outside of your mind?", Nick flashed his signature smile and glanced at Rowland as he continued; " A little, but that's not the point. Now, let me finish...if you do this...and I like what you create, I'll buy the piece and it will be one of the few I display at my gallery opening and, it will also be a good time for you... To show me what you can do."

"Right, no pressure.", Rowland said sarcastically.

"Ye of little faith, I have a feeling you've got this one."

"And if I don't?", Rowland felt his stomach sink at the thought of his answer.

"Well, we'll just have to cross our fingers, for your sake.", Nick said, looking at the rear view mirror.

Rowland could only laugh at his nerves, being driven to an unknown location by a possible mad man. And jumping out the moving car didn't seem like the best alternative, so he pushed himself to explore this idea.

"How old are you anyway?" Rowland randomly asked out of curiosity.

"I'm about thousands of years old, but that's neither here nor there." Nick answered.

"What are you like...doing a bit for your poetry?" Rowland asked.

"Yeah, kinda like an old soul's perspective on things like...societal values and what not.", Nick said this sounding bored, as if he had to explain all of this before but to Rowland it seemed shallow.

"Okaay, so it's kinda like...", Rowland smiled at a thought; humoring Nick's idea; " The devil and the old soul...", Nick looked at him and broadened his smile; "Now ya getting it."

'What cartoon did he come out of!? ' Rowland thought and laughed; "Whatever man. Okay,...I'm game. I think."

"Cool. ", Nick accepted, covering his mouth with one hand as he yawned; "Now for some coffee.", mumbling to himself about seeing some Gas Station somewhere around them.

Rowland felt the need to ask as he finally found and pulled into the gas station earlier mentioned; "Just out of curiosity, why? "

"Why what? "

"The whole...bit.", Rowland asked intrigued.

"Well... ", Nick stopped to think as he parked up to a fuel tank;

" Other people say that nothing matters so why bother, I say...if nothing matters then why not.", raising his shoulders, "That's just my opinion."

Rowland looked at him with surprise and confusion at his statement and he looked back noticing the strange expression and gave a look that said 'What..?' as the light exposed his eyes behind the dark shades he still wore.

"Creepy. ", Rowland admitted.

"What? ", Nick asked.

"I said the same thing to Charlotte...I think a night ago...weird."

"Well maybe, if someone says it one more time it'll be true.", Nick joked, getting out of the car to fill up the tank while Rowland stepped out to get a few things from the gas station kiosk.

"Hey, you still want that coffee?", Rowland asked.

"Yeah, black. Er... Five sugars. ", Nick answered.

"Anything else?", he asked.

"Nah, just coffee.", Nick replied.

'Five sugars!? Jesus. ' Rowland thought while walking away and into the quaint shop, now looking through isles for something that was to his fancy (despite the reluctance of his gut). He took a candy bar and stopped at the deli section to ask for two cups of coffee; one black and one with milk.

And just as he got his order back, his phone rang;

"Hello?", He answered softly, to seem sick just in case it was his boss who was calling; who (speak of the devil) it was.

"Rowland, where are you?!", he sounded stiff and stern, the loud sound of a crowded café filling the background made Rowland feel bad. But he carried on;

"Oh, sorry sir...I...I'm not feeling too good.", He croaked, looking around for judging eyes but only saw Nick walking in.

"I think I have food poisoning, sir.", He took out his wallet and paid the lady behind the till; who lit up when she saw Nick as he grabbed the coffees and said an earnest and polite good morning.

"Oh, well. Then say no more. ", Mr. Moloi muttered something about rather not having him around then spoke up with much busyness in the sound of his voice;

"All right, I'll man the cash register for the time being. You get better young man.", he abruptly cut the call.

Rowland was relieved but felt slightly guilty for the inconvenience caused by his absence. He grabbed his candy bar and walked out of the store and towards the car that now was parked closer and in waiting. He got in.

"So... ", Nick began; " He bought it? "

Rowland sighed, "Yeah."

"Cool.", and they drove off and back on the open road, each side of the tar strip was lined with a vast array of pines which darkened the woodlands as the passers by look through. But it seemed as though Nick was trying to know as much about Rowland as possible in the three hours he had with him before the poetry gig, because as soon as his cup found it's holder; he began to speak;

"So... ", Rowland raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement; "...Charlotte, how does someone so pretty end up pushing drugs? "

"Well, I don't really know... She never really talks about it.", Rowland thought for a while, remembering a short conversation about the topic he had had with her.

" I don't think she has any family here so she's making lemonade, y'know. I guess...I guess, since she's schooling and between her job and school, she's just trying to make ends meet.", it was his honest opinion on the matter, he never judged her for it. It was actually how they met each other; one day he was out looking for a new drug dealer and then the next thing, he found her. The first time he bought from her she was flirty and he was hooked. He remembered how he would call her up for weed even when he had plenty and he one day got her to sit down and talk about all she knew about her drugs and he remembered how she was so invested in the otherwise medicinal plants among the countless uppers and downers.

To him it was like listening to a botanist examine a rare breed of plantation;

" It's the science behind it. There's always a science behind like... Everything, man."; he remembered her answer when he asked her why, at the time they were high out of their minds.

"She must really love it.", Nick stated.

"Well yeah, I guess she kinda does.", he smiled.

"So what brought you to this love of word of mouth?", Rowland asked, seeing as they were spotting a game of twenty one questions.

" Well... With the thousands of words you use to paint a picture, it can only be interpreted...different eyes see different things. But if you use word of mouth, people are forced to listen; it's universal. They'll lie to themselves as it's... always easier that way, but maybe...", Nick said squinting his eyes as he heightened his voice; "...just maybe I could...whisper the truth in a away that will make someone want to hear what I have to say...you could silence rooms with that power. And if what you have to say is the truth, someone will always listen. I'm not going to speak the truth for my benefit...but for those who wish to break out of the cycle that's been laid down before them, because they can see through the cracks of the human lie.", He finished, leaving Rowland to hold his breath having been somewhat inspired but not ultimately impressed with how he made himself sound like a saint.

"Don't you want to break out of the cycle..? ", Nick asked this the way Jehovah's witnesses ask about a moment to speak of the word of God, he said it as if this question had a consequence. But it got Rowland thinking, about his past week and how uneventful it all felt; how nothing seemed to matter apart from his job and the ones his close to. It scared him how long this had been going on for how it all dripped into one memory of bleakness like the tap in his kitchen sink that wouldn't stop dripping. And so he asked himself in that split second;

'To what end?'

"No... Yes." He replied with conviction, not only to Nick but to himself; "I-I actually don't know anymore... Shit."