Somewhere along the journey she decided that they needed new names. Not aliases, they weren’t breaking any laws; that wouldn’t be for another couple of years. New names solely for the fun of this adventure. She would be Molly and he would be Ron.
By the time they arrived in Las Vegas, Molly knew that she was pregnant. Somewhere around western Indiana, when her cigarette started tasting bad, she knew something was up, but instead she focused on the changing scenery outside. It was early August and the leaves gasped the last of Spring’s green virility. Ron’s refurbished cop car handled heavily. The crushed faux velvet interior smelled of stale tobacco and the Rainbow kids they had picked up in eastern Indiana.
Now almost to the western border of Illinois, they both were looking for a way to ditch Alma and Red. Red was a squirrely white kid from Kentucky. A genuine ginger. Alma was tolerable. A mixed looking girl, with the ubiquitous Rainbow/Phish kid hair style: locked up and filled with beads and woven fabrics. Nice smile. Red, on the other hand had those crazy eyes people get when they’ve done way too much acid. Lines tattooed all over his face. Ron fed them some half-hearted bullshit about needing to part ways. They all spent one last night sleeping outside in the parking lot of a 24 hour truck stop. 2 inside, 2 outside on the ground. Close to the car for safety.
They had a tiny bit of soft left and figured they’d get high one last time before Molly was “officially” officially pregnant. They found a playground and did their lines in the car and then played on that wheel that makes no sense. You run and run and push and push and then jump on and stare up at the sky. And you feel dizzy, like maybe you are gonna throw up, cuz everything is moving so fast and the sun is flashing in your eyes and you blink away tears and your heart beats and you realize babies come out chasing a high. And nothing is ever gonna feel as good as inside our Mama, but damned if we ain’t gonna keep trying.
They got to Vegas and stayed with Ron’s cousin. Tomas was friendly. He had recently adopted a ferocious looking, but absolute doll baby Doberman. Scheisse, but everyone called her Shy. There was always traffic since Tomas and his boys had a little side hustle going. Kenny was dumb as shit, but nice. His vocabulary didn’t extended much beyond the word “fuck” and he inserted it liberally, often multiple times within the same short sentence. Tomas’s other roommate Brian probably used to be super dreamy, but too much coke and desert sand had weathered his looks. He still managed to pull a cute blonde ice skater. Later, at the Winter Olympics, Molly smiled when she watched his girlfriend mouth, ‘I love you Brian’ before her performance. She came in eighth place.
Because she was gonna keep this baby, Molly asked one of the randos hanging out on Tomas’s couch to take her to a local health food store for some raspberry tea. Because she had read that that was beneficial to the baby. However because she was also a typical horny (albeit pregnant) 19 year old, she ended up letting her chauffeur eat her pussy on the patio of his apartment.