Page 87

"We don't have a tow truck anymore," he said. "Maybe you should just call the Automobile Club."

"We don't belong," I said quickly.

He stared at me again. When he took these long silent looks at me, he made me so self-conscious, I had to shift my eyes. I could feel my cheeks heating up as well.

He nodded and looked around, expecting to see someone else waiting.

"Where's your family? How come they sent you by yourself'?" he asked.

"It's just me and three of my girlfriends. We're going to California," I explained.

"California?" He smiled as if I had said we were going to the moon.

"Yes, people go there," I joked. His smile only deepened.

"Someone must. It's the most populated state in the country. Well," he said putting his hands on his hips and looking in the direction of the exit, "what happened to your station wagon?"

"It started to overheat. There's water gushing out of one of the hoses," I said. He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh there is, is there?" he asked with a smirk. "So it sounds like you've diagnosed the problem, doctor."

"No, really, I'm not sure what's wrong, it's just that I could tell there's a leak--it gushed all over me." I held out my wet sneaker as proof.

"The hose probably rotted away. When was it serviced last?"

I took a deep breath and looked away. "I don't know," I said.

"Whose car is it?"

"It's . . mine, but I don't know when it was serviced last," I said.

"Seems to me that if I were going to California, I'd be sure my vehicle was serviced and checked," he said.

"We just decided at the last minute," I told him.

He smiled at me again, his eyes full of amusement as they fixed on my face. I tried to look away, but his look started a tingle in my spine that felt like a tiny bubble floating up and around to my heart.

"Where are you from?"

"New York, upstate," I said quickly.

"And you just decided at the last minute to drive across the whole country?" he followed, his voice filled with enough skepticism to weigh down the faith of a priest.

"Yes. That's the truth. Can you help us or not?" I questioned.

He didn't exactly stop smiling at me, but he did turn more serious.

"Well, I'll take my Chevy. I have a chain I can use to drag her back here, but just in case, I'll bring along some water," he said.

He nodded at an Impala that had its rear lowered and customized exhaust pipes installed. The driver's side door had been primed for a paint job.

"That's Betty Lou," he said. "Get in. I'll be right with you."

"Betty Lou?" I said, smiling.

"My sweetheart," he added, and went around the corner to fill a can with water.

I got into his car. The seats had been redone in a fifties' tuck and roll. The dashboard was spotless as were the floors. A pair of large cotton dice dangled from the rearview mirror.