The Easy Way Out

33

As she drove the silver car down the stripe of highway, a roadside sign piqued Rachel's interest: R & G GUN SHOW NEXT RIGHT. Squinting into the bleached sky, she exited the highway then noticed a Panera just ahead. She parked the car, removed a paper napkin from the glove box and blew her nose. She checked herself in the rearview mirror realizing there was no point in applying makeup to her swollen eyes. She grabbed her sunglasses, dabbed her nose again, and got out of the car.

She entered the restaurant and made a quick stop in the restroom. On her way out, she ordered a bowl of soup and a cookie, then with her bagged take-out order, headed for the parking lot.

A man wearing a watch plaid shirt exiting the Panera called, "Emily."

Rachel kept her head down on her way back to the car.

"Em. Hey, Emily."

She heard his footsteps trotting up behind her. "Em," he said as he closed in.

She turned to face a guy in his late twenties with a thick head of wavy, sandy hair, grinning at her. "Oh," he said. "You're way prettier than Emily."

"Thanks, I think," she said, continuing on her way.

"Your hair's just like hers." He followed her. "But your face sure ain't."

"I already said thanks." She crossed her arms. "So now what?"

He anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his thumb hooked in the front pocket of his jeans, which were too tight to be of any use concealing a weapon. He was harmless. "So... I don't know," he said, working up his best flirtatious grin. "Just wanted to talk. And look at you."

"I gotta get back to work. As one does."

"I'll take the afternoon off. If you maybe wanna go get a drink."

"I don't drink."

"Blessings be upon the virtuous," he said with a smirk. "Or maybe we might get us an ice cream."

"The energy's weird," she said. "I'm gonna go."

His shoulders fell when he sighed. "So, you're gonna swipe left."

"My soups getting cold." When she glanced back over her shoulder, he seemed smaller. She walked to her car and when she took a quick peek, noticed he'd retreated to his.

She started the engine, turned on the air conditioning, and pried the plastic lid off her cardboard bowl of soup. According to the navigation system, the convention center hosting the gun show was only 6.2 miles away. She finished her soup and, as she wheeled out of the parking lot, sampled the chocolate chip cookie.

Not long after, she arrived at the destination and parked her vehicle. The stifling heat pushed its way into her car the second she opened the door. Crossing the asphalt parking lot, she noticed a baked gecko lizard who apparently, misjudged either the temperature or the distance to a shady refuge.

Inside the air-conditioned building, Rachel wandered between rows of folding tables where handguns, rifles, and knives were displayed. Hundreds of vendor and customer voices reverberated in the cavernous open space. A stout man in a camo trucker's cap ogled her as she passed. He pulled a cherry popsicle from his mouth with a slurp and shouted, "It's your lucky day, little lady."

She gave him a sideways glance.

He said, "You look like you could use some luck and I happen to be in the luck business." With his popsicle, he gestured toward his table where rabbit's feet keychains were displayed. A sign that looked as though it were written with marker by a 6-year-old read, LUCKY KEY CHAINS $7.