I feel my hands loosen up. I hadn’t noticed I’d clenched them into fists.

“He’s not going to take the hold off the card, though,” Justin says. “And if the hotel decides to arrest me, he won’t help. There’s nothing I can do. I have like ten bucks left.” He sobs and buries his head in my shoulder. I want to ask if his dad would pay if I just turned right around and drove him to Rochester, but I don’t feel like I can with how hard he’s crying. The terms are so completely different, but the disappointment is familiar.

“I’ll pay for it,” I say. “I have cash. I’ll fix it.”

His relief is instant and beautiful and being able to give that to someone else feels triumphant. I can do more than just survive. I can do more than take. He kisses me hard.

Brian is still watching. I give him a thumbs up. Cool as a cucumber. But there’s a slight scuffle when I tell Brian I have to go up to the room to get money to pay him. He insists on coming with me while Justin stays in the lobby.

“So, Buffalo,” Brian says in the elevator, his breath loud in the small space. He stands closer than he needs to and I wonder if his insistence on coming with me is about more than making sure we don’t bolt. “Good wings.”

“Of course,” I say, smiling.

He smiles back. “I like wings.”

I get the feeling there’s another way to solve this. He’s not so awful, just sad and spent. It wouldn’t be the worst way to get out of a bad spot.

The elevator doors open. We walk down the hall together and I think about Ray and the crunch of his foot bones under my tire. His black-framed glasses. How he rolled the flyer from my show in his hands and seemed so harmless and earnest. I try not to think about that burnt rubber smell, but then it’s like the air won’t fill my lungs anymore and the things that are real hide behind my thoughts.

I stop smiling at Brian. I swipe my room key. Rummage through my bag. I pretend I don’t notice the way he watches me from the doorway. He holds the door open with his back, and I’m relieved to feel like I could scream and be heard. That he understands the need for that courtesy.

“Here,” I say, handing Brian a hundred and forty dollars. “Can you tell Justin I’ll meet him in the car?” He looks like he doesn’t want to leave me in the room.

“I just want to pack up and use the restroom,” I say.