Joe watched the heat wave up from the road ahead and wondered just how far he’d have to walk before running across a farmhouse or a car with someone who might offer him help. He’d always relied on his good looks and charm and people had always responded accordingly. It was only recently that he’d realized how uncommon this experience had been. It was elitism reserved for the rich, successful, famous, or extremely good-looking, and he was now barely clinging onto a status in the latter category. But looks squandered and not used to obtain wealth, status, or fame began to gather not appreciation but disdain, especially as one entered their thirties.

“I just want it back,” he muttered to himself. “I’d give anything to be on top of the world again.” A lone cloud provided momentary sanctuary as it appeared to engulf the sun in its billowy core. Joe shivered involuntarily at the sudden shift of temperature. The realization that he was probably burning in the valley’s absence of shade had him reaching for the T-shirt hooked through a belt loop when he saw a cloud of dust steadily approaching on the horizon. He left the shirt where it was, smart enough to know his strongest asset and ability to get that vehicle to stop was showcasing his well-worked-out torso.

Joe blinked away the dust from his eyes as an ebony-black Jaguar slowed to a stop beside him, its tires crunching the gravel noisily. The dark-tinted window rolled down and the driver seemed to appraise him from behind an expensive-looking pair of sunglasses. The gas can, though empty, felt heavy in Joe’s hand. It rattled against his leg as a little dirt devil swirled past.

“Luck not favoring you?” the man in the car asked, although it sounded more like cold observation than a question. He was likely in his mid-sixties, well-groomed, and wearing a sports coat over a white and navy crisp pin-striped shirt. The choice of clothing would have seemed completely at odds with the arid environment were it not for the spill of cool, conditioned air cascading over the windowsill.

“You could say that,” Joe answered rather vaguely and leaned a hand against the roof of the car. “Ran out of gas a ways back.”

The man’s eyes danced quickly over Joe’s body before flitting back up to meet his gaze. “Well, I might be able to help you out.”

Joe wasn’t sure exactly if he should read anything into the man’s offer or not but he wasn’t about to over dissect the situation right now. Poof or not, there was a good Samaritan offering a hand up and he wasn’t about to start drawing lines in the sand. “Will you give me a lift? Just up to the nearest service station?” Joe asked, mustering his dark charcoal eyes to give their best twinkle. “I can figure out a ride back.”