Page 128 of Something Like Hail

“Grab a box of tissues,”Noah replied. “I figured that covers both needs.” After a beat, headded. “Or all three if it’s a messy fart.”

“That’s disgusting!” Haroldsaid, clutching at his sides. “I won’t be able to keep a straightface next time!”

Noah put the car in park. “This job can beso gross.”

“Or hot. If you had tomarry one of your clients…”

“Tough one!”

This conversation carried them into the fleamarket. The smell of fried food was in the air and a live band wasplaying music, but neither of them stopped to look at any of thewares for long.

“I remember it beingbetter,” Harold commented as they walked beneath a long aluminumroof. Different vendors were set up on either side, shelves andtables acting as barriers between them. “It’s been years since Iwas out here. Not since the fire. My parents used to be crazy aboutthis place.” They paused in front of a booth full of T-shirts withalmost-but-not-quite-right logos. “I’m starting to see why theydon’t come here anymore.”

Noah shrugged, not bothered by theirsurroundings. Sure, it all seemed like bootlegs and knockoffs, buthe didn’t know what else to expect. “What were you hoping tofind?”

“Vintage stuff,” Haroldsaid. He noticed another vendor and perked up. “Like thatone!”

He led the way. Tables and boxes were filledwith old junk that wouldn’t be out of place at a garage sale.Harold was grinning as he moved things aside, picking up variousitems for him to see. “Mickey Mouse phone? He’d be worth money ifthe ears weren’t missing. New Kids on the Block lunchbox! I betthat makes your sandwiches taste extra funky. Get it?”

“Yes.Unfortunately.”

“Hey, is that a Pee-weeHerman doll? If the pull-string is still there, I might bite. Mymom loves Pee-wee, and I know she was looking for one ofthese.”

Noah started searching too, wondering if hecould find some special item that would impress Felix. He scouredthe tables and was too overwhelmed to choose anything, so he turnedto Harold again, who was holding something small in his hand. Noahmoved closer to see. It was the kind of button people used to pinon their jackets, this one with a political theme, judging from thered and blue stars.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Harold said,closing his fingers around it. Then he opened them again. “Areminder. You ever hear of Angela Brandt? She ran for governor lastyear.”

“I don’t follow politicsmuch,” Noah admitted.

“I don’t either, but I usedto date her son.”

“Really?” Noah saidcasually, when in truth, he felt slighted. He wasn’t even sure whyuntil he chased down the feeling. Harold had refused to give them achance, so of course it hurt to hear about the people hehaddeemed worthy ofdating. “Want me to buy that for you as a souvenir?”

“It’s not funny.” Haroldtossed the button onto a junk-filled table and left thebooth.

Noah followed, feeling confused about whathad just happened. “Not a good memory, I take it.”

“No. Not at all. In fact,it’s only gotten worse.” Harold turned around to face him. “Iwanted to talk to you about all of this anyway. I guess findingthat button is a sign that I should. You sure you don’t want to geta drink?”

Noah shook his head. “I could use somethingto eat. I skipped breakfast.”

Harold nodded and together they walked awayfrom the live music to the far end of the flea market. There theyfound a food vendor selling homemade tamales, and while the scentin the air was mouth-watering, the scattered tables and stools wereworn and permanently stained. The kitchen equipment behind thecounter was equally scorched and dirty. Noah didn’t care. He wasn’tpicky, and right now he was hungry enough to eat just aboutanything. As they carried their orders to a table, his date didn’tseem to share this indifference.

“Sorry.” Harold glanced attheir surroundings with a frown. “Like I said, I haven’t been herefor ages. I wanted our date to be nice! This isn’t how I imaginedit.”

Noah hadn’t given any forethought to thisday at all and was surprised Harold had looked forward to it somuch. “I like it here,” he said generously. “It’s the sort of placeour clients would never take us, and that makes it feel likevacation.” To demonstrate, he took a swig from his soda bottle andgasped like he was in a commercial. Then he peered at the label.“No corn syrup. This is the real stuff with actual sugar! Thatalone is worth the trip.”

Harold smiled. “You’re the best. You knowthat?”

The phrase was a little too close tosomething Felix would say, so Noah shifted the conversation back toa previous topic. “Tell me about the governor’s son.”

“She didn’t becomegovernor,” Harold said. “I guess she did better because now she’sa—” He shook his head and started again. “His name was Calvin. Is.He’s not dead. I’ve stalked his Facebook page enough to know that.You could use one, by the way.”

“I’d need to get friendsfirst,” Noah joked from around a bite of tamale. “How’d you twomeet?”

“I was just starting out asan escort and was meeting a new client. Not just new to me, but tothe GAC as well. When I got to the party, my date already had a hotguy hanging out with him.”