"I love you, I love you anyhow, And I don't care if you don't want me, I'm yours right now"

- Nina Simone

It was the kind of summer night that I loved, that was rare for mid-June. A cold front had passed through that week, a handful of showers with it. The heavy crowd we always expected late-afternoon on Fridays had already trickled out well before nine o'clock, so I left the Gift Shop unattended and sat on the bench outside of the store front. The road was still wet from the rain earlier that day, and I watched light bounce off of the mist streaking into the atmosphere from the tires passing by. I hadn't bothered to put on a sweater that morning, before I headed to the DX. It was chillier outside than some might consider comfortable, but I relished in it. I closed my eyes and took a long breath, tasting the humidity in the air. The only sounds I picked up were from the cars driving by, Soda and Steve had a habit of going quiet at the end of a work day.

Cami had been by everyday that week, everyone in Tulsa had heard about the hoard of kitten heels that liked to loiter around the DX, so she knew that she needed to mark her territory right off the bat. With half of his time consumed with cars, and the other half consumed with entertaining Cami, I had hardly seen Soda. He still said hi to me when he clocked in, but those measly 30 second interactions were all I had received for two weeks. Sometimes I would catch Steve look from Cami then to me, and roll his eyes, but he continued to ignore me like usual.

I missed working at Debby's, sewing dresses and chatting with the other girls all day left me little room to feel idle or lonely. I felt comfortable with the people on the North Side, at home, none of them looked at me like they were offended, like I had some nerve working at a gas station in a predominantly white neighborhood. The minority of customers were at the two extremes, outright rude or overcompensating, and those were the ones that relieved me. The majority were harder to read, and that set me on edge. The rich women, the sharply dressed high school students, would smile politely, but I found myself calculating every move of my arm, every syllable of every word that came out of my mouth. I had assumed things would get easier once the customers saw me at the counter for a few consecutive weeks, but it didn't.

"Evenin'." A low voice sounded from in front of me, causing me to jump and my eyes to snap open.

The first thought to occur to me was to get inside and behind the counter, not to look at the person standing in front of me. I knew Clint would have a field day if there was a customer 50 yards from the front door and I wasn't watching the cash register.

The stranger watched me start to move toward the door, and said, "I ain't here to buy anything." Stupidly I sat back down.

Like his voice, the man standing in front of me carried a certain authority in the set of his shoulders, a confidence in the way he let his arms hang loose at his sides. He had the same greased back hair that Soda and Steve did, so I guessed he was from the East Side too. His eyes were dark like Soda's but the resemblance stopped there, Soda's eyes were mischievous, almost gentle, even Steve's fiery gaze held a comforting amount of emotion, but in this man's eyes there was nothing, no warmth, no anger, just emptiness.

"I-if you need to get your car I'll have to go in and get the keys." His mouth twitched up into a smirk at the obvious tremble in my voice.

"No, darlin', there's no car, but I am here about a few of my possessions."

I rubbed my palms on the front of my skirt, and glanced toward the opening of the garage. Surely Steve or Soda would have heard his voice by now, and would walk out, for curiosity's sake if nothing else. But there was still no sight of them, and I was starting to get paranoid.

"Lookin' for your boyfriend?"

I turned back to look at him and nearly laughed out loud. "Huh?"

"You look nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

He snorted. "You think I got a record, doll?" I didn't answer. "Well, I do, most of east side boys do." He pulled a pack of Kools out of the pocket of his leather jacket. The first drag he took after lighting one up he blew straight into my face. I scrunched up my nose and his smile widened. "You know what happens when you got a record? The cops are on you like a hound on a bitch."

I stood up quickly and made a move to open the door, I had no doubt the man would follow me in but I figured I'd be safer the closer I was to Clint's office. Before I could grasp the handle the stranger had leaned against the glass, it wouldn't budge.

I stared up into his cold eyes and gulped, then blurted out an excuse. "If something's gone missing on our account, I can go see if it's in the lost and found."

He blew another cloud of smoke into my face, and he was close enough then that I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep them from stinging. "Your boy Steve stole somethin' from me. Now, he's got priors, same as me, so I could just call up good 'ole Sheriff Wells, and sleep tight at night knowin' what he's gettin' up the backdoor in the cooler." I gave the handle another tug, it gave one pathetic shake and my grip slackened. The man grabbed my wrist before I could react, and brought it to his chest, the back of my hand rested on his shoulder, brushing against the stubble of his jaw. He brought his lit cigarette to the vulnerable flesh of my inner forearm, and held it just a couple millimeters away from my skin, but I still had to try not to wince at its heat. Some part of my brain was throbbing at me to call out for Soda, or even Steve, but my lips were glued shut.

"But I ain't gonna have the five-o do my work for me. Now, doll, you better stop squirming else you're gonna burn yourself." I stopped. "I can't shoot your boy, but I can make him fuckin' regret breathin' within a mile of my ride, you dig?"

"You here for me, Russell?" I heard Steve's voice from somewhere to the left of us. Russell's eyes were still locked on mine, I couldn't manage to pry them away, maybe the fumes of the cigarette were clogging my brain. "C'mon, just drop the weed—"

"What'd you say your name was, doll?" Russell cut him off, never letting go of my wrist.

"Mary," the change in voice snapped me out of it, I turned to see Soda standing next to Steve, looking at me imploringly. Steve had a wrench hanging casually from the grip of his right hand, but I knew better, and Russell knew better than to think it was casual. I looked back to see Soda eyeing Russell, eyeing his grip on my arm. "Go on inside now."

I looked at Russell before attempting to move my wrist. He tapped the cigarette and a clump of ashes and embers landed on my arm, causing me to hiss. "Oops." He said. I didn't bother looking back at the two boys before opening the door to go inside, but I heard Steve mutter an angry, "fucker", from behind me.

I walked around the counter and took a seat on the wooden stool I stowed away between the two cabinets by my knees. I could still make out the forms of the three boys, until they quickly moved out of sight, to the left of the parking lot where the dumpsters were. I didn't doubt what Russell had told me, that Steve had gotten his hands on something that didn't belong to him, and now he had to pay the consequences. I wet my thumb and tried to wash away the dark smudge on my arm left by the ashes, the skin pulsed where it was burned, which only made me more irritated.

It wasn't my fault that Steve liked to go looking for trouble, so it didn't make sense to me that Russell would bother acknowledging my presence. In the end I was angrier at Steve, the one who started all of this, the one who poked Russell hard enough that he decided to use my forearm as an ashtray.

I swiveled in my seat to glance back at Clint's office door. He would come out into the Gift Shop or mosey his way into the garage only a couple times per day. The rest of the time he stayed holed up in that itty-bitty 10-by-12 room. I knew better than to ask what he bothered himself with during that time, I knew better than to ruin a good thing. I also knew better than to go blabbing my mouth about some hood showing up in the parking lot because Steve robbed him.

It felt like hours that they were back there, and none of them made a sound. I was wondering if Steve had been forced to put that wrench to use, when Steve's face appeared in the doorway to the garage, and he motioned me to come over, his lips set in a tight line.

At first, I didn't budge, which only made him annoyed. He sent me a hard-eyed look, and I got up out of my seat without a second thought. Once I was within an arm's reach from him, he grabbed my elbow and helped me the rest of the way past him. I whirled around to look back at him once I regained my footing, incredulous.

"There some reason you weren't behind the counter?" He folded his arms across his chest, and leant against the tool table where Soda already was. He looked at the two of us with raised eyebrows.

I scoffed. "You're lucky I wasn't inside, or Clint would have heard the whole thing and you'd be out a job."

"If you had been inside, like you're supposed to, then I would've heard the whole thing before it even started. How is that burn feelin', by the way?" He added mockingly.

"Well, maybe you should've kept your greasy paws off of his stuff in the first place!" My voice rose and I planted my hands on my waist. I knew it wasn't easy for me to look intimidating in my five-foot-four frame, but I did my best to imitate the way my mother carried herself during our arguments. It didn't work, Soda looked away from me, probably to conceal the amused grin that split across his face. That didn't work either.

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." Steve waved me off and walked over to the opening of the garage, and began to lock down the door. Soda followed suit and started to pack up the tools and extra parts laying out on the table and the bench.

"So did you take care of him or what?"

"Ain't your concern no more."

"Yeah, unless he decides to run me down with his car next. What did you take from him, anyway?"

Steve turned to roll his eyes at me and groan, like I was his pesky kid sister nagging him to clean the dishes. "I said, it ain't none of your concern no more. Go on, remind Clint it's closin' time."

"Aye!" I threw my hands up and stomped back into the Gift Shop. I heard the two of them laughing at me once I was out of sight.

It was date night for my mother and Clint, as well as Cami and Soda. Soda dragged Steve over to their car as soon as Clint gave them the go ahead to clock out. Soda always made a point to shower before picking up my sister, wash off all the oil imbedded underneath his fingernails after a long day at work. It was something that made me smile despite myself.

Cami was lucky that it was date night for my mother, or else she would have insisted on meeting Soda, and the two would probably have never made it back over the threshold of the house for the rest of the night. But Clint had gotten a couple of glasses of rum in her, so the two had already passed out in her bedroom. I could hear her snoring from the crack of their open door, and rolled my eyes.

Manny was going to bed too, or so he told me, but I knew he was still up, most likely flipping through his wildlife book or trying yet again to draw a Motmot. He always loved birds.

I was left with the task of waiting up for Cami, which gave me all the time in the world to twiddle my thumbs and daydream up anything I liked. I pictured if the roles had been reversed, and Soda had rushed home to spruce up before his date with me, instead of Cami. If Soda and I were the ones who just managed to leave the house quick enough to avoid my mother, and he had taken me out dancing like he did with my sister. I had never had a boyfriend before, never been on a date. I'd been kissed once by a smelly kid named Davey Graham; he planted one on me right in the middle of the playground after his friends had dared him to.

I heard the two of them before I saw them, they stood a few feet away from the screen door. I could just make out the hush of their voices, but was unable to distinguish any of the words they exchanged. There was a chunk of silence that followed, but Cami still didn't come in. He must've been kissing her goodnight, I imagined Soda kissing me goodnight, wistfully.

When she finally did come through the door, she looked at me, then back out the screen door, giggled, and headed to the bathroom without another word. A few seconds later the sound of Soda's engine echoed along our street, so I got up to turn out the lights and pick up the empty glasses sitting on our coffee table.

"Oh, Mary," I heard Soda's voice from our steps.

I set down the glasses and moved to open the door, looking at him curiously. "I think she's taking a bath."

"S'alright, she just forgot her sweater in my truck." He held the white fabric out to me, and I couldn't help my ears and cheeks from flushing red. He chuckled at the sight of me. "Glory, nothin' like that." He chuckled one more time, then shook his head and started to turn around to walk back down the steps, but stopped.

I cleared my throat. "I'll make sure she gets it."

His brown eyes studied me. The light above our doorway cast shadows across the right side of his face, emphasizing the cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He looked just as handsome in his DX uniform as he did then, in a leather jacket and white t-shirt. I still couldn't quite meet his eyes, and I could tell he found that funny.

"That burn ain't too bad is it?"

I circled my thumb along the inflamed area of my inner forearm. "I've had worse."

He smiled. "Cami said your mom wasn't much of a pushover."

"Cami would know." I bit my lip. He had bothered to ask about my burn, and he was always so friendly toward me. I swallowed and finally let the guilt I'd been feeling coat my mouth. He was too sweet, he'd never know who Cami really was, and she'd break his heart and Steve would never let me hear the end of it. "Listen, Soda, you should…there's something you should…I need to tell—"

"Steve said somethin' to you, right?" My mouth hung open, and I stared at him like an idiot. He still smiled at me, but the corners of his eyes were tight, and he had shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Right?"

"He just asked about Cami, to look out for you."

"Well, I don't need him to, and you don't need to bother with his crap neither." He said sharply, then hung his head and sighed again. "Sorry, Mary."

"No it's just…I lied to him, you see. He asked…if Cami was harmless, and I said yes…"

He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. "I 'preciate it, Mary, but I'm a big boy, you don't got to worry about this."

"She's my sister…I knew she'd do this the moment I started working with you, but I didn't…warn you, I guess." I attempted to tuck a chunk of curls behind my ear, but they fell back to frame my face once my hand left them. My legs felt shaky, this was the longest we had ever talked to each other and I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that I hadn't brushed my teeth since that morning, and that I had already changed out of my skirt into a loose fitting shirt and ratty jeans. I held Cami's sweater to my chest and stared at Soda's boots. "You're too nice for her."

He laughed out loud then, slouching over a little and holding his belly. He leant down even further once he was finished, enough that he was almost eye-level with me. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he said softly, "I ain't nice." He tucked the same curls brushing my cheekbone behind my ear, then said, "See you tomorrow, Mary."

I didn't wait for him to make it to his car before I headed back inside. But I did wait until I was in mine and Cami's bedroom, until I had sat down on my side of the bed, to let out a long exhale of air. I couldn't remember when I had begun to hold it.