Murphy's Bandit

By William Renken

After graduating college, Murphy and Dale find themselves enjoying life on the road, crisscrossing the United States and living it up in every town and city they enter. But when Murphy finds out Amanda, the girl he's had feelings for since his last year at UCLA, is getting married in a couple days, he and Dale decide to embark on a crazy, insane, breakneck journey to California to halt the impending nuptials so Murphy can reveal his true feelings. Of course, things get complicated when they pick up a runaway bride named Alex who is trying to get as far west as she can as well along with trying to stay ahead of trailing hillbillies, drug dealers, and state troopers who all want to get their hands on Murphy and Dale. It's high-speed fun and adventure at over 80 miles per hour!

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Renken
• Release date: Nov 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386746829

Book preview

Chapter One

Murphy sat in his silver 2008 BMW, finger tapping on the wheel. He had a Sports Illustrated open near the shifter, but he couldn’t stay focused on reading. His mind was elsewhere.

The heat wasn’t too bad on the Texas-Arkansas border. He had the windows down letting in the breeze that would come in and out every few seconds. And it allowed him to ash his cigarillo. The motel was a dump. The Buckle Inn. Terrible pun. Nothing savory went down at the Buckle Inn. And that trend wasn’t in danger of being broken that late morning.

He had had enough. He got out of the car and walked toward a phone booth near the motel. Murphy flipped through his jean pockets for change and put some coins in the slot.

It rang three times before someone picked up. Amanda was on the other end.

AMANDA: Hello?

MURPHY: Hey, it’s me.

She recognized the voice and could feel the apprehension growing instantly.

AMANDA: Murphy? Hey. Are you...Where are you?

MURPHY: Somewhere between Arkansas and Texas I think. How are ya?

AMANDA: Uh, good. I’m good. How are you?

MURPHY: Starving, to be honest.

AMANDA: You should eat something.

MURPHY: Yeah. I’m sure we’ll find a diner or something once we get moving.

AMANDA: Off again, huh?

It was a touchy subject. Murphy could sense the contempt in her voice and tried to pivot.

MURPHY: I think we’re headed back to LA in a week. You want to get together for coffee or lunch? Is that sushi place still up and going by your place?

AMANDA: I haven’t lived in that apartment in two years.

MURPHY: I guess that’s a no. Well, we can work that out next week, I guess.

AMANDA: Murphy, I don’t how else to say this, so I’m going to say it. I’m getting married Saturday.

There wasn’t an issue with hearing what she said but almost reflexively Murphy asked her to repeat.

MURPHY: What was that? I think there’s a kink in this phone line.

Amanda scoffed. She hated to say it once, let alone having to repeat.

AMANDA: I’m getting married on Saturday, Murphy!

MURPHY: This Saturday?

The frustration started to come through in her voice

AMANDA: Yes, Murphy! THIS Saturday!

There was a pause.

MURPHY: Shit...

Suddenly, one of the motel doors flung open, and Dale came running out, with one hand carrying his shirt and the other holding up his pants as he sprinted toward the BMW.

Murphy looked at his friend confused while also processing Amanda’s shocking admission.

AMANDA: Murphy?

Dale’s pace quickened.

DALE: START THE FUCKING CAR!

Murphy looked beyond Dale running in his direction and saw a large man with a shotgun appear from the door Dale ran through. He aimed and fired wide.

MURPHY: Oh shit!

He dropped the phone receiver and dashed into the BMW.

The ignition came on as Dale attempted a dive into the passenger side window that landed awkwardly with his waist and legs hanging out.

MURPHY: What happened?

DALE: Back door.

MURPHY: Amanda’s getting married.

DALE: Seriously?

The large man aimed and fired another round that grazed the back of the car.

DALE: GO, GOD DAMMIT, GO!

Murphy hit the gas and the BMW sped off down the road with Billy Idol’s White Wedding ironically blaring over the stereo.

...

Dowdy Ray Jones flung open the front door of his double wide trailer with his shotgun in hand. He was covered in sweat from the heat and it showed in multiple places of his way-too-small gray shirt. He slammed the door and chucked his mesh trucker hat in frustration.

His son Brody was a gaunt boy of twelve who entered the living room in his dirty white tank top and long stringy blonde hair. He was eager to see his father.

BRODY: Did you get ‘em, daddy?

Dowdy Ray glared at him as he ran his hand through his greasy hair.

DOWDY RAY: Get me the damn phone, son.

Brody handed him the large cordless phone receiver.

BRODY: Who are you calling, daddy?

Dowdy Ray immediately dialed.

DOWDY RAY: Your uncle...(into the phone) Hey Stu?...Yeah, it’s me... Do you have a twenty yet on that BMW?...No?! Then what the hell good is having a brother for a state trooper if he can’t find one car?!...Look, you hear anything, you call me, ya hear? Love ya, boy.

He hung up the phone.

BRODY: Did Uncle Stu find ‘em, daddy?

DOWDY RAY: Not yet, but he will. He’s a good brother like that. And when he does, let me tell you, we’re going to pin them Yankee boys up against the barrel of this here whip of mine.

He smiled and rubbed the barrel of his shotgun. His smile dissolved into a look of disdain.

DOWDY RAY: Thinking they can get all premescutus with my little Jenny.

BRODY: I think it’s promiscuous, daddy.

DOWDY RAY: Oh shut up, you shit!

...

Murphy and Dale stopped at a diner about ninety minutes into their getaway from the explosive ending at the Buckle Inn motel. It was a nice no name place just off the highway. There weren’t many patrons inside. Just a couple truckers at the counter and a couple traveling families in the booths. That was where the pair of friends found themselves.

MURPHY: Walk me through this again now that the adrenaline is wearing off and I can concentrate. What the hell happened back there?

DALE: Well, we started fooling around, and shit just escalated there. Then all of a sudden, the back door gets kicked in. It’s her old man! Fucker’s got a shotgun and says he’s going to blow my dick off. Hence, the quick exit.

Murphy sighed and shook his head. He had heard some variation of Dale getting mixed up with a girl he shouldn’t have plenty of times. Even witnessed it from time to time. It was always quite the tale of excitement and occasional woe. It’s what he always loved about him. Nothing, even a hillbilly pulling a shotgun on him, could curtail his excitement. He envied that in his friend.

Along with the adrenaline coming down and being able to process the previous events, Murphy more and more was beginning to focus on the bombshell Amanda had dropped on him. Dale could sense something was on his mind.

DALE: What’s with the face?

MURPHY: Nothing, man.

DALE: That Amanda shit is wild, huh?

The way he said it made it even more off putting to Murphy.

MURPHY: I suppose it is, Dale.

DALE: You know the guy?

Murphy rolled his eyes and stood up.

MURPHY: I didn’t ask, Dale.