During the drive, they spoke several times, checking on each other’s location. RJ told him mile markers on interstate 10, and Pad told him his progress by towns on interstate 75, telling stories of places he’d been as a child with his aunt and then David.
As Pad drove through the exit beyond Micanopy, he called RJ. “Hey, I just passed Café Risque.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s right off 75. It’s a gentleman’s club.”
“I thought you didn’t like titty bars.”
“I don’t,” Pad laughed. “Where are you?”
“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell these exits but the GPS says I’m just a few minutes away from Ben Hill Griffin Stadium.”
“Yeah, about that. That’s the only landmark I could think of but I saw a sign a few minutes back for a Holiday Inn Express off Archer Road.”
“You know my GPS shows that road’s
