A big black SUV rolled past us. The windows were even darker than those on the Honda, and looked as black as the doors and fenders.

“That’s one of those whaddya-call-thems,” I said.

“An Annihilator,” Lawrence said. “They used them in the army, then regular folk wanted to get them. So they gussied them up with power steering, CD players, air bags, and now soccer moms can drop their kids off in something that could be used to launch surface-to-air missiles. Fucking ridiculous.”

The Annihilator slowed as it passed on the opposite side of the street, in front of Brentwood’s. Lawrence’s entire body seemed to tense. He turned off Erroll and wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. I felt a tingle work its way through me, like I’d put a toe into ice water.

The towering sport utility vehicle inched ahead a bit more, then the brake lights went off, and the Annihilator continued up the street.

“Interesting,” said Lawrence.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t come back tonight,” I said.

“I might have made a mistake. It was bound to happen eventually.”

Suddenly I thought of the license plate. “Did you get the plate number?” I asked.

“It had one of those opaque covers over it,” Lawrence said. “Couldn’t make it out. Maybe, if it comes around again.”

I had a sip of my coffee, made a couple more notes. “Red Honda,” Lawrence said. “Coming this way. Can’t see the wheels, not sure whether it’s the same one. Come here.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Just come here,” he said, pulling me toward him and slipping his arms around me in an embrace. His cheek was pressed up against mine, his lips just to the side of my own. He felt warm, and there was a scent of aftershave. Hesitantly at first, I raised my right arm and slipped it around his shoulder.

As the Honda drove by, Lawrence casually moved his head around to give it a better look. Even with Lawrence’s head pressed up against mine, I could see that this car had simple hubcaps.

“Not our car,” Lawrence said, freeing me from his embrace and leaning back up against his window. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get fresh. I was afraid, had it been the same car, he was going to make us. Two guys sitting in a car at night, that’s a surveillance. Two guys going at it, well, that’s something else. And congratulations on not freaking out.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Not to worry,” he said. “You’re not my type anyway.”

I gave that a moment. “What do you mean, I’m not your type?”

Lawrence glanced over. “I’m just saying, if you were gay, you wouldn’t be the kind of guy I’d go for.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Nothing personal,” Lawrence said.

“Of course not,” I said. As if it could be anything but.