“Can I at least bum a cigarette, baby?” Fantasia asked as Avery pounded the numbers of the keypad.
“No. It’s a filthy habit,” Avery replied.
“Sugar,” Fantasia said, “you can’t imagine all the filthy habits Fantasia has. Sure you don’t want a date?”
“No,” Avery said as he listened to the instructions to deposit another seventy-five cents in order to place his call. “Can you make change for a dollar?” the frustrated Avery asked the heavily perfumed woman as he extracted his quarter from the phone box.
“Fantasia only makes change when services are rendered,” Fantasia said as she reached up to stroke Avery’s crazy mane of hair with her long fake nails.
“Get off me, you whore!” Avery shouted as he batted away her hand.
“Don’t you go calling me names, you fat bastard!” Fantasia said as she stood defiantly with her large hands on her hips. “Fantasia’s a lady, and she’ll be treated as such.”
“Whatever,” Avery muttered as he stormed past Fantasia and into the truck stop’s restaurant.
“Oh, don’t go away mad, baby,” Fantasia called to Avery. “I’ll be here all day and all night if you change your mind.” She blew a kiss after him.
The Art Deco–style diner was filled with a couple of dozen truckers and locals. Avery took a stool at the counter next to two truck drivers harassing the waitress.
“Hey, Maddie,” shouted the larger of the two truck drivers to the short, feisty brunette behind the counter. “How about you and me go on a date tonight?”
“Big Lou,” Maddie said as she turned to face the burly truck driver, “even if you weren’t married the answer would be the same. Hell, no!”
“Aw, come on, Maddie,” Big Lou replied. “They don’t call me Big Lou for nothing.”
“Pound salt, you jackass,” Maddie said as she refilled his coffee.
“But Maddie, my wife just cut me back to one piece of ass a week. I’m dying, I tell you.”
“Hate to be the one to break the bad news to you, Big Lou,” Maddie replied. “But there’s half a dozen other truckers in this restaurant she’s cut down to one piece of ass a week also.”
“Snap!” the skinny trucker sitting next to Big Lou cried out as he convulsed in laughter. “She done busted you good, Big Lou.”
“Shut up, Ennis,” Big Lou said to his friend. “And what the hell does ‘snap’ mean, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ennis replied as his laughter subsided. “I just seen it on the TV. Think it means you got busted. Just like last week when that lot lizard surprised you with her package.”
“Shut up, Ennis!” Big Lou said again as he slapped the back of the skinny trucker’s head, knocking his mesh hat to the floor in the process. “I told you not to mention that!”
“I told you there was a reason she only dances at the topless joint and not the all-nude place,” Ennis said as he picked up his hat.
“Ennis,” Maddie said. “Does your wife know that you boys hang out at those places?”
“No, she don’t,” replied Ennis sheepishly. “But I can’t help it if I enjoy supporting single mothers.” He and Big Lou laughed heartily.
“The both of you are disgusting,” said Maddie as she refilled Ennis’ coffee cup.
“Excuse me, good woman,” Avery said to Maddie. “May I please have change for a dollar?”
“Only if you buy something, mister,” Maddie said as she used a damp rag to clean the counter in front of Avery. “Rule number five,” she said as she pointed to the hand painted sign hanging from the door to the kitchen behind her. Avery looked at the sign. Rule number five read CHANGE PROVIDED FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY. It was above rule number six—NO SPITTING—and below rule number four—NO LOT LIZARDS ALLOWED INSIDE.
“You should try the barbecue, mister,” Maddie said. “It’s almost the best in the state. Won all kinds of runner-up awards.” Avery viewed the numerous trophies and ribbons that lined a long shelf above the kitchen door.
“No, thanks,” said Avery. “Do you carry Pepsi products?”
“Sure do,” Maddie replied.
“I’ll have a Mountain Dew, then,” Avery said.
“I mean we got Pepsi. Regular and diet.”
“Damn it,” Avery swore. “Fine, regular Pepsi.”
“Coming right up,” Maddie said as she turned and went to the soda fountain.
“Hey there, partner,” Big Lou said to Avery. “What the hell is that thing strapped to your waist?” Avery ignored the brawny trucker as Maddie returned with his soda.
“How much I owe you?” asked Avery.
“Dollar twenty-five,” said Maddie.
“Perfect,” said Avery as he handed her two wadded-up one-dollar bills from his fanny pack. Maddie fished in her change belt for some quarters and placed three of them on the counter.
“I’m talking to you,” Big Lou said to Avery as he stood from his stool. “We don’t wear them fanny purses in this part of Texas.” Just at that moment, Fantasia poked her head into the restaurant.
“Why hey, Big Lou,” Fantasia called out. “You know, you still got a credit with Fantasia. We didn’t get to finish up last time.”
“Hey you, get out of here!” Maddie yelled. “Rule number four!”
“Why, I’ll kill you, you freak show!” Big Lou yelled as he started for the door.
“Anyone needing commercial services?” Fantasia called out quickly into the restaurant. “Fantasia’s the best! Just ask Big Lou!” she added ducking back out the door and scurrying as fast as her high heels would carry her across the truck stop parking lot, Big Lou in hot pursuit, screaming obscenities. Avery scooped his quarters up from the linoleum counter and headed for the door.
“What?” Maddie called out. “No tip?”
Avery ignored her and walked to the phone booth, this time occupied by a local rancher.
“I need to use the phone,” Avery yelled as he banged on the phone booth door.
“I’ll be done it a minute,” the rancher said as he cupped the receiver in his hand. Avery picked his fingernails impatiently as he waited. A few minutes later the rancher hung up the phone and exited the booth.
“All yours, partner,” said the rancher as he shuffled past Avery. Avery climbed in the booth and inserted a quarter. Banging out the phone number, he waited for the message to insert additional change before dumping three more quarters into the phone. He could hear the phone ringing.
“You have reached the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia headquarters,” the recorded message began. “Please leave your name and a short message after the beep. And don’t forget to place your order for your very own ‘What Would Sam Houston Do?’ wristband. Supplies are limited. Beep.”
“This is Avery Bartholomew Pendleton of Austin, Texas,” Avery began. “This message is for one Private Zulu. I made an earlier departure than I thought, and with one minor mechanical delay behind me, I’m making better time than I expected. I also failed to consider the change of time zone in your corner of the state. I’ll be there to autopsy the specimen at six rather than eight. If you aren’t there, I’ll begin without you. Full stop.” He hung up the receiver and climbed into his car. Driving through the truck stop’s parking lot, he noticed Fantasia sitting on top of one the semis’ trailers, kicking her red heels back and forth at the infuriated Big Lou, too fat to climb up to the top of truck, screaming and shaking his fist at her from below.