“I do,” I fired back without thought. “What would you like?” I said again, smiling. After a second of pause, “I’d like a coke,” Man said. “Fountain or bottle?” I asked. “Bottle is fine,” he said. “And you,” I said, looking in at Woman. She was smiling wide like a child. “How about an O.J.?” she said shyly through a white smile. I raised an eyebrow and spoke with the uptalk of a question, pausing between words for effect, finding my escaped subtle humor, and looking back and forth between them with each word, “Candy, smokes, jerky, cash register?” and finished with a coy smile. “No thanks,” Man said. But I sensed his hesitation. Now, I know they had no money and I watched them smoke their last cigarette twenty miles back. I also knew they were hungry. The reason behind going to Cedar Rapids was to panhandle for money so they could buy food and smokes. I picked up the drinks and three packets of beef jerky. That’s what I eat for a snack usually, beef jerky. But while I stood at the counter I remembered the thought I had earlier when I profiled my riders as hippies. I put it in my mind as “Grateful Dead parking lot hippies”, and if you have ever been to a Dead show, you see signs for vegan this, vegan that. “VEGAN BURRITOS FATTER THAN YOUR HEAD,” I recall seeing more than once. I realized my friends might not want beef jerky at all. I went back and found three packets of peanuts and three candy bars, covering my bases so to speak. At the counter I ordered two packs of smokes for me and two packs of Pall Mall 100’s for my riders. I went back out to the truck and hopped in. I reached in and put my smokes in the console along with my soda and a beef jerky. I passed O.J. to the woman and Coke to the man. Then I pulled out the two packs of cigarettes for the riders and passed one to Woman and one to Man. The look on their faces is hard to explain. It was part confusion, 59
4 P.M. COUNT