She crossed the parking lot to the diner. No lights were on, but a row of stoic figures was hunched over formica. No sign hung in the window. She entered to the smell of bacon grease and cornmeal.
A wild-headed man at the booth nearest the door motioned to her as she entered. He was gnawing deliberately on something; his plate was all but empty. He took small sips of root beer and continued chewing. Hidden safely behind the thick frames of her sunglasses, the girl considered him for a moment before joining him.
"Car overheat?"
"Yeah."
The man's lips were tight even as he spoke. He was still chewing. He glared suspiciously. The girl didn't mind, but she wouldn't remove the glasses.
"Saw you messin with the hood."
She was silent.
"Wha's a girl like you out here for?"
The girl caught the waitress's eye: "Lentil soup and coffee." She turned back to the wild-haired man and looked at the table. On his plate were the remains of a wilted sliver of lettuce and a well-chewed hunk of cinnamon gum. The plate was pushed back on the table toward her. Between him and the plate was a row of playing cards arranged in a triangular formation, each row alternating between red and black. The extras were scattered along the edge of the table by the sugar jar.
The girl scrutinized the cards. They had been meticulously realigned in between bites of whatever had contained the lettuce. The game must have been going for a while.
She turned to him, glancing at his face above the rims of her sunglasses. "You want to play poker?"
The man stared as though challenged. "Don' know how."
"What do you know how to play?"
He was still chewing. She scrutinized the movements of his mouth. By this point, he could have been chewing the insides of his cheeks. He inhaled thickly and looked at her.
"Solitaire."
"What else?"
"Nothin else."
As the waitress approached with her food, the man scooped his cards into a massive palm and shuffled them into his shirt pocket. The girl emptied her cream packets into her coffee cup. She studied him. "Do you live around here?"
"Sometimes."
"Well, I'm looking for somebody. I think he's around here."
The man swallowed suddenly. "I don' know nobody." He pushed his plate further back on the table; the girl took it as her cue to rise. He swung his head toward the window and pushed back the plastic blinds, considering the dull blue car while he chewed at his gums.
She eyed him. "You know him. Everybody knows him."
He let the blinds fall and kept staring at the car. "Not everybody." He was right. Not everybody. Not everybody knew him. But some. He.
"You do."
"I told you I don' know nobody."
Maybe he didn't. She could have sworn he had. She contemplated his lettuce.
He looked back at her. Her sunglasses had slipped momentarily down her nose, and he was staring straight above them. "I know what yr lookin for."
The girl hastily tipped back her head, hitching the frames back between her brows. He did know; she could tell. She pressed her lips.
"I know what yr lookin for," he repeated. "I know who."
She was at a loss� She glanced at her soup. She hadn't touched it. She stood tentatively at the table's edge, eyes fixed on the movements of his mouth. He knew. He'd known the entire time from the way she'd contemplated the smoke rising from the hood, the way she'd hesitated under the overhand, the way she'd ordered her food, the way she'd hesitated before telling him�probably even the way she'd too quickly flicked her blinker off as she'd entered the parking lot. He knew. She'd let it out too easily.
His gaze made her uneasy. "Listen," she said, leaning in. "Where is he."
"Don' know."
Maybe he didn't. His mouth was still tight. He squinted out the blinds as if threatening to speak, to offer help. He never did. And maybe he didn't know. But he knew enough.
She dug a five out of her pocket and, tossing it on the table, moved toward the door. As the door swung to behind her, the man watched sharply� she heard a bellow�
"God be with you."
He had known. She had let it slip.
There was still smoke rising from the edges of the hood. She started the car anyway. She drove eighty-nine, heading east.
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