Detour

The scene opens on Molly and Sandra walking out the mall exit in their work uniforms. Same parking lot routine. Except this rideshare ride goes sideways fast. Stefan looks clean, smiles easy, says the right lines when they lean in the window and confirm the pickup. Once they're in the back seat he starts the meter. Molly kicks it off talking shit about their parents, the grades still waiting at school, the backpacking escape they're stacking cash for. Eighteen, done waiting around to live. Sandra tosses in lines here and there. Molly picks up on his accent and straight asks. Europe, he says, and both girls light up, start pumping him for cities, hostels, routes. He gets into it, names places off like he's writing postcards. Molly leans forward. Sandra's smile fades. They're not turning on their street. He pulls into the driveway of a quiet house, kills the engine, and tells them to come inside for a minute. "Something that could help your trip." Molly doesn't need convincing. She climbs over Sandra's lap and jumps out. Sandra mutters under her breath but follows anyway. The suitcase sits on the coffee table, already half-open. Molly coos at the Europe map pins on the walls; Stefan doesn't waste time. He nods at what's inside. Molly's jaw drops. Sandra stares, nervous. Stefan tells them the whole stash, free, if they do one tiny thing. Photos, just that. Simple kissing. Nothing else. Sandra shakes her head, but Molly sees chance and dives straight in. She turns to her friend, whispering they kissed at parties before, this guy is safe, suitcase of free train passes, hostel sheets, two clean passwords out of suburbia. Sandra folds. They line up for Stefan's lens. Molly performs, laughing between pecks, trying to make it hot. Sandra stays stiff. Stefan zooms on her anyway. Then the requests slide forward. He wants to sample Sandra's mouth himself. Sandra bolts back, utterly freaked. Molly storms over and corners her, eyes flashing. Eventually Sandra steps up. He takes her face, grips her wrists to slip around his hips. She jerks free. Silence. Stefan drops the camera, snaps the suitcase closed, offers the door. Molly won't take the loss. She demands a price list. Stefan pauses, then drops it dead calm. He wants to eat her out, nothing fancy. Molly's legs jerk her to the couch. Uniform bottoms hit the floor. She's spreading for his tongue while Sandra paces and starts pleading in whispers. "Shut up and sit," Molly hisses. Stefan's already slurping, eyes half-closed. Sandra drills circles into the carpet, calling her mom on impulse. All she gets is a quick scold and a hang-up. Stefan wipes his chin on Molly's thigh and asks to put it in. Molly swallows, nods: careful, two times only, no pill. Sandra pops up like she's been stung, begging her to quit. Molly won't. So Stefan sweet-talks Sandra like it's polite tea time, says she can finish the job faster if she helps. She strips fast, eyes vicious, and clambers on to get him done quicker. It works. He drags out last-second and paints both of them. They get dressed without words. Stefan tosses Molly half the bag, locks the rest, tells them straight: they split it because they earned it. Keys slide over. Back in the car, three miles of silence left. Destination is no longer in the GPS, they realize.