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“The moment you started talking I knew you were a Harley guy.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“As long as you’re not like those rich guys down on Melrose who only drive on the weekends in the city.”

“I hate those guys.”

“Me too.”

She waits a beat before saying, “So, when can I see it?”

“The bike?”

That’s a really good question. Where is the Hellion hog? I left it at Max Overdrive, but that was a year ago. It could be anywhere by now.

I say, “It needs work before I can take it out again.”

I look out the window at Angelic Bazaar, but the damn sign hasn’t moved.

“What do you ride, Alyx?”

“A Ducati Monster 797. Is that the wrong answer, Mr. Harley?”

“Like I said, it isn’t a real Harley. And Ducatis are nice bikes.”

“Then you should let me take you out for a ride sometime. Just until you get your Harley back.”

“Alyx,” calls Jason, the barista.

She turns and he points to other customers who’ve come in since we started talking.

“Shit,” Alyx says. “I’ve got to go. Check out my site.”

“Thanks. I will.”

As she moves to another table, she says, “And whatever you do, don’t look at the back of the card.”

I take a sip of coffee and flip the card. There’s a phone number there. I put it in my shirt pocket.

What is it about this face and these clothes? Alyx was nice to me, and so was the barista. Carlos was nice. So was the girl at Donut Universe. Although, come to think of it, I wasn’t using a glamour that night, so she was nice to my real face, which is just as puzzling. But really, it’s moments like this one with Alyx that make me question my place back in this world. Who am I supposed to be? When I look like myself I tend to scare small dogs and cops. Even Sandoval couldn’t stand the sight of me and she’s with Wormwood. Who knows what kind of sick shit she’s seen over the years. Candy thinks I look all right, which is the only thing that really matters. I don’t know what Alessa thinks or what Candy has told her about me. How could she explain all my scars? “His mom swaddled him in burlap and razor wire when he was a baby …”

What am I supposed to be now that I’m back? What if Candy doesn’t want me anymore? Am I going to spend the rest of my life wearing this fake Steve McQueen face, going through the world like somebody I’m not? What I am isn’t much, but at least it’s real. Did I come back to live a lie for the rest of my life?

I sip my espresso and watch the traffic on Sunset. No one goes near Angelic Bazaar. I check the boomerang-shaped clock over where they prepare the coffee. I’ve been here a half hour. Atticus Rose is really stretching the definition of “Be Back Soon.”

I finish the second double espresso and regret it immediately. It leaves me wanting to run around and throw furniture—but in a good way. Not good stakeout behavior.

Alyx notices that I’m done with my coffee and comes over.

“You went through those fast. You want another double?”

“Yes, but I already want to bench-press that bus out there, so I probably shouldn’t. What do you have with less caffeine?”

“Everything,” she says. “Literally everything here has less caffeine than what you just drank.”

“Can you narrow it down from everything?”

“Sit tight. I’ll get you something.”