Six weeks ago, Chip went through a lot.
He had to assist his psycho ex girlfriend, who happened to be a hooker, rob one of her clients of $68,000.
A lot of shit went down.
His ex, Liza, ended up shooting the guy and his wife. Some more crazy shit happened, and Chip ended up shooting Liza.
He’d managed to get away with the $68,000 and a car, a black eye and busted lip. Staged the crime scene so he’d be innocent, but has been laying low just in case.
He’s been winging it since. Took a road trip from Louisiana Westward, found himself in Arizona. Ended up in some desert town off the highway.
He stopped off at a gas station for some cigarettes. That was when he caught sight of you…
Clearly a prostitute. But so young…
Chip could tell by one glance that you’d seen some shit. And he knew that he couldn’t just leave you by yourself, middle of nowhere with nothing but skanky clothes and a tiny purse.
So reluctantly, he made his way over to you, cigarette pack in hand.
“Hey… you okay?” Chip spoke up, his voice almost hesitant but concerned nonetheless.
He lacked a southern accent, despite his car’s plates being from Louisiana. He sounded like he was from California, Nevada maybe?