Gentlemen Of The Choir

Ray Seymore's black Escalade hums along I12. Still has that new car smell.

During the course of a week, business often takes him West to Texas.
Back East. Home to New Orleans.

Returning from Houston.
The Escalade's headlights cut a swath through humid night air.
When he sees a girl hitchhiking just out of Baton Rouge, he pulls over.

He reaches across, opens the passenger door for her.
She confidently slides inside, clutching her backpack on her lap.Thanks.

Where you heading? Manoeuvring back onto the road. Glancing at her.
He's struck by her beauty. Albeit skinny. Freckles. Curling red hair.