I start towards the door to the main room, but he nods at the back door. Why don’t you go out the back and I’ll just use the bathroom. I’ll splash some water on my face and meet you outside.

I hesitate. The cook and the dishwasher stand between me and the doorway.

I’ll be out in a second.

Sure, I say.

He ambles towards the main room. Not wanting to be in this room alone with the Mexicans, I bow my head to avoid their eyes and hurry towards the back door. Their eyes feel as strong as desert sunlight through my shirt back.

The air feels fresh against my face but beneath my legs the dark asphalt is hot like an oventop, even through my jeans cuffs. Car metal bathed in sunlight clicks and snaps. As I walk past the cars I wonder if I am being followed but do not dare turn around. Ahead, there’s a sliver of shade thrown against the stucco wall by a protruding rain gutter, and I move towards it and then lean against the wall.

In the corner of my vision the cook and dishwasher linger in the doorway as I look across the highway towards a dark grove of bow-legged trees. Beside me the shaded paint feels cool through my shirt, and I lean my cheek against the coolness and it is then that I feel them coming. It takes them a minute.

Yo, one mumbles.

It is just like Tomas and his friends all over.

Yo, you hear me?

I turn. The youngest one, who is maybe seventeen but taller, nods at me and slips against the wall, leaning a shoulder in. His skinny friend with hunched shoulders and hands shoved in his pockets trails him, like a little magnet.

What is it?

The tall one nods at me, What’s your name?

The tow truck guy told you.

I forget.

Gabe.

The other one snickers. It’s possible the bigger one meant something funny, or just that the little one is nervous and laughs at whatever his friend says. It is hard to feel them out clearly, which maybe means I am too edgy.

Yeah Gabe, nice to meet you.

He puts out his hand. I look at it and hesitate, but shake it. His skin feels clammy, and his grip is loose.

So what you doing around here?

My car broke down, I say. Like the guy told you.

Yeah.

Sure, the other one says.

His leader peers across the lot towards the back door. Is the big guy your friend?

I shrug.

He’s just towing my truck.

They trade glances. So he’s not your friend? the big one says.

I just met him.

Because you seemed really friendly.