“He once was a good man,” Sam Frye said. “He provided for you and your mother. You think he liked wearing that uniform at the Rez and pouring drinks to gamblers? Telling jokes about teepees and wigwams and all that shit? He worked so you and your mother could have a life.”

“He left my mother,” Toby said. “For a white woman with big fake tits. She treated him like he was some kind of wild animal. A pet. And when he got sick, that woman left and went all the way back to California.”

Sam Frye had nothing to say as they rolled farther into the county, passing the big billboards placed along Highway 45. DON’T MISS THE REBEL TRUCK STOP and THE HOLY BIBLE. INSPIRED/ABSOLUTE/FINAL. And one with Kermit the Frog. EATS FLIES. DATES A PIG. HOLLYWOOD STAR. The rain coming down harder now, and he saw a flash beyond the lights gathering around the truck stop, blooms of white and red neon. The outline of a woman, her curves outlined in neon, kicking her legs up and down.

“You promised we could go to the titty bar.”

“That titty bar will come to us,” Sam Frye said. “While we wait for the call.”

“Amazing,” the kid said. “You’re kidding.”

“Make the most of your time,” Sam Frye said. “Be respectful of the girl they send. We could get the call at any moment. Finish up quick.”

“I’m sixteen, Sam,” Toby said, laughing. “I do everything fast.”

“And no real names,” Sam Frye said. “And no tall tales about the music business.”

“What tall tales?”

“Big T,” he said. “Famous Choctaw rapper.”

“You’ll have a girl, too?”

“I’m old,” Sam Frye said. “Not dead. We both get rooms. When I come for you, leave the girl and follow me out. Say nothing. I’ll tell you what you need to know on the way.”

Sam Frye pulled off on the next exit, passing the red and blue glow from Vienna’s Place and the sprawling pumps at the Rebel Truck Stop. His long black hair was chopped off straight at the shoulders and hanging loose across his ears and neck. Across the road he turned into the Golden Cherry Motel, a roadside wet dream from the 1950s. Sam Frye not surprised to see the cursive neon reading Vacancy. The swimming pool glowed in the darkness with a weird green shimmer.

“Same as Memphis?” Toby said.

“Same idea,” Sam Frye said. “Different plan.”

“I did what you said,” the kid said, almost speaking to himself.

“And?”

“I liked it,” he said. “Felt as natural as fucking.”

“I know,” Sam Frye said. “Your father would be very proud.”

*   *   *