belied the breadth of his chest. TJ was a mixture of small and large; sizable eyes set in a narrow face, topped by a shock of chestnut hair, long on top, shaved close around big ears.
Bryan cleaned his plate, drained his water glass, wiped his damp mouth with the side of his hand, and stood. “Take your time, TJ.” He paid at the register, and while waiting, read ads tacked to a bulletin board. One ad read persimmon-headed golf clubs for sale; another advertised baby furniture. Again, he acknowledged relief that his sterile marriage hadn’t produced children. He scanned all the bits of paper. A German rifle was for sale and the price only a hundred bucks. He almost heard the ex yelling about wasting money on his stupid collection. She hated guns even more than she hated his job. He yanked the scrap from under the thumbtack and searched for a pay phone outside.
He dropped change into the slot, and after four rings, he heard a receiver lift.
“I'm calling about the rifle you have for sale.”
“ Yes,” replied a feminine voice.
“ Still have it?”
“ Nobody's called.”
Puzzled by the lack of salesmanship, Bryan asked, “What kind is it?”
“Mauser.”
“ What model?”
“ Kar 98 Carbine.”
Bryan's adrenaline pumped up a notch. A rare Mauser. “You still want to sell it?”
“The ad wouldn't be on the bulletin board if I didn't. Cripes, I’ve got them on every cork board all over town.”
“ Lady, you can't sell it if you don't tell me where I can see it.”
“ Not at my house.”
This was becoming a lot like pulling off a wet sock. “Tell me where.”
“I don't know.”
“ I'm at the Exxon station at the I-135 junction. I'm driving a white Jeep Cherokee and pulling a U-haul.”
I don't know what a Cherokee is, but I know a U-haul. I suppose the whole place is full of them.”
“Mine is the only one.” Bryan drew out the one .
“ Are there any scummy-looking people hanging around the truck stop?”
“ The mob here consists of me and one kid.”
“ I need cash.” She sounded desperate.
Bryan didn't have the slightest idea why, but he reassured the voice that he could pay.
“Give me twenty minutes,” she said.
By now, Bryan would wait an hour just to see someone this dumb. “I'll be in the restaurant.”
“Meet me outside.” The woman’s voice pushed with do as I say .
“ How do I know who?”
“ Geez peez. I'll have the rifle. I'll bring the leftover bullets too. You sure you got cash?”
“ I wouldn't have called if I didn't.”
“ Tell me what you look like.”
“ I’m just an average guy. 5'11" in my socks, brown hair and weigh a tad too much from desk sitting. Is that enough?” Bryan ground his molars together.
“ Anything easy to spot? Like a beard or something?”
“ Lady, I’m clean-shaven and wearing jeans. That’s it. You want to sell or not?”
“ Be outside.”
He hung up, betting the lady was pure blonde. TJ walked out of the station with his pack slung over his shoulder. “Been a change of plans,” Bryan said. “I have to kill twenty minutes. Someone is coming to meet me.”
TJ shrugged and gazed around. He walked to the only shade by the east side of the station, leaned against the block building, and lit up a smoke.
For the briefest second, Bryan wondered if he should just hop in the Cherokee and leave. Instead, he glanced over at TJ, and not knowing where else to wait, also sought the shady side of the building. TJ's cigarette smoke curled near Bryan. Smelled good. Soothing nicotine. He missed it, probably always would. Tempted to ask for one, he could almost hear her calling him stupid. Misjudging that woman was the last asinine thing he planned on doing.
Twenty minutes stretched into thirty. Flies buzzed above a dull army-green garbage bin. Semis idled in the parking zone; faint smells of diesel fuel carried on a breeze drying moisture from
Bryan cleaned his plate, drained his water glass, wiped his damp mouth with the side of his hand, and stood. “Take your time, TJ.” He paid at the register, and while waiting, read ads tacked to a bulletin board. One ad read persimmon-headed golf clubs for sale; another advertised baby furniture. Again, he acknowledged relief that his sterile marriage hadn’t produced children. He scanned all the bits of paper. A German rifle was for sale and the price only a hundred bucks. He almost heard the ex yelling about wasting money on his stupid collection. She hated guns even more than she hated his job. He yanked the scrap from under the thumbtack and searched for a pay phone outside.
He dropped change into the slot, and after four rings, he heard a receiver lift.
“I'm calling about the rifle you have for sale.”
“ Yes,” replied a feminine voice.
“ Still have it?”
“ Nobody's called.”
Puzzled by the lack of salesmanship, Bryan asked, “What kind is it?”
“Mauser.”
“ What model?”
“ Kar 98 Carbine.”
Bryan's adrenaline pumped up a notch. A rare Mauser. “You still want to sell it?”
“The ad wouldn't be on the bulletin board if I didn't. Cripes, I’ve got them on every cork board all over town.”
“ Lady, you can't sell it if you don't tell me where I can see it.”
“ Not at my house.”
This was becoming a lot like pulling off a wet sock. “Tell me where.”
“I don't know.”
“ I'm at the Exxon station at the I-135 junction. I'm driving a white Jeep Cherokee and pulling a U-haul.”
I don't know what a Cherokee is, but I know a U-haul. I suppose the whole place is full of them.”
“Mine is the only one.” Bryan drew out the one .
“ Are there any scummy-looking people hanging around the truck stop?”
“ The mob here consists of me and one kid.”
“ I need cash.” She sounded desperate.
Bryan didn't have the slightest idea why, but he reassured the voice that he could pay.
“Give me twenty minutes,” she said.
By now, Bryan would wait an hour just to see someone this dumb. “I'll be in the restaurant.”
“Meet me outside.” The woman’s voice pushed with do as I say .
“ How do I know who?”
“ Geez peez. I'll have the rifle. I'll bring the leftover bullets too. You sure you got cash?”
“ I wouldn't have called if I didn't.”
“ Tell me what you look like.”
“ I’m just an average guy. 5'11" in my socks, brown hair and weigh a tad too much from desk sitting. Is that enough?” Bryan ground his molars together.
“ Anything easy to spot? Like a beard or something?”
“ Lady, I’m clean-shaven and wearing jeans. That’s it. You want to sell or not?”
“ Be outside.”
He hung up, betting the lady was pure blonde. TJ walked out of the station with his pack slung over his shoulder. “Been a change of plans,” Bryan said. “I have to kill twenty minutes. Someone is coming to meet me.”
TJ shrugged and gazed around. He walked to the only shade by the east side of the station, leaned against the block building, and lit up a smoke.
For the briefest second, Bryan wondered if he should just hop in the Cherokee and leave. Instead, he glanced over at TJ, and not knowing where else to wait, also sought the shady side of the building. TJ's cigarette smoke curled near Bryan. Smelled good. Soothing nicotine. He missed it, probably always would. Tempted to ask for one, he could almost hear her calling him stupid. Misjudging that woman was the last asinine thing he planned on doing.
Twenty minutes stretched into thirty. Flies buzzed above a dull army-green garbage bin. Semis idled in the parking zone; faint smells of diesel fuel carried on a breeze drying moisture from
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