Miriam tries not to laugh, but she laughs. He looks hurt, and she waves him off. "I'm not laughing at you, dude, I'm laughing at me. At the situation. Irony is alive and well. You're the farthest thing from weird. You're a thousand million miles from weird. Trust me. I'm the odd duck. Not you. You're just a guy. A very nice guy. I'm the crazy bitch who had a spaz attack."

"No, I get it – long night, long highway, stressful situations, it's all good." Louis pulls a crumpled receipt from his jeans pocket and fishes out a pen. He presses the receipt up against the Waffle House window and writes something, then gives it to her. "That's my number. My cell; I don't have a landline anymore. I can't pick up another load for a few days – the economy basically fell off the horse and it hurts the little guys like me – but that means I'm still around."

"You're still around," she says. Knife in eye. Slurping sound. Miriam? "Well. I dunno."

"Who's this?" Ashley asks, coming out of the Waffle House, rangy arms crossed, a defensive posture. "Friend of yours?"

"No," she says. "Yes. I dunno. He gave me a ride."

Louis towers over Ashley. He's a pillar, a monolith. Ashley is just a wind-blown blade of grass in his shadow. Doesn't stop him from sticking his chin out and puffing up his chest. The two men stare bullets at each other.

"This your old boyfriend?" Louis asks.

"What? The black-eye boyfriend?" Miriam can't help but laugh. "No. Gods, no."

"Good meeting you, big guy," Ashley says. "We gotta split. See you later."

"Okay," Louis says. "I get it. I'm going to go inside, get a waffle."

Ashley smiles. "Smart way to play it, buddy."

Louis just grunts, and it's like the air has been sucked out of him. He's a big guy, like Ashley said, but suddenly he looks very small. Louis tosses Miriam a sad look over his shoulder, then heads inside. Ashley makes a jerk-off motion with his hand. "Toodle-oo, fucker," he says, laughing.

SIXTEEN

Gravity

Still night. Still pissing rain.

Ashley presses her up against the brick wall. He parked the car. He said he wanted to show her something. They got out, and now here they are. The city's noises play around them – mild for a city, but still loud: the honking, the yelling, the laughing, the music drifting from somewhere far away.

Miriam feels the brick against her back. Ashley's up against her.

"Fuck off of me," she says, pushing him back. But he moves right back into place, like one of those clowns you punch down just so he can stand back up, grinning.

"You knew him," he whispers, chuckling. "The trucker."

"He gave me a ride. He's just a guy."

She smells his breath. Mint. She's surprised to see him lolling a Lifesaver around on his tongue. Miriam hopes her breath smells like an ashtray.

Ashley's nose touches her own; then his cheek is against her cheek. His skin is smooth. No stubble. Feminine, almost. Hot breath reaches her ear.