“Naw, just bein' a good Christian,” he said and pulled back into the highway. He drove relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel. “Names Jackson. ...ackson Pelley.”“Becky Woodward.”He gave me a smile. “Please to meet ya, Becky. Ya bound for anywhere in particular?”“Just drifting,” I said and leaned back against the seat. The sweat was starting to dry on my face, making me feel in desperate need of a shower.“Right, right,” he nodded his head. “Aimless, huh? Haven't felt the Lord touch your heart and. Maybe it was because he was blocking the sun.I opened my eyes and there stood a sort of handsome man about 45 years old with greying temples, wearing a white tee shirt and khaki shorts and no shoes. “This is my beach and you have to leave,” he said with a nasty voice.“Who died and made you the bloody King?” I replied sarcastically.The man was standing at my feet and was looking up at my crotch. “You’ve never seen one before?” I said.“That’s my house and this is my beach,” he barked.“You don’t. More

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