Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, sir," Pepper choked as his mouth filled with saliva. "Yours is what car?"

"The Mustang out front, it's the only car out there," he said crossing his arms.

Pepper walked to the edge of the garage. "That red one?"

"Yes, can you change the oil in a red car or should I take it someplace else?"

Pepper rubbed his hands against the thighs of his pants.

"Well?" the man said.

He straightened up and began walking towards the back of the garage. Moving quickly he called over his shoulder, "Sure, sure. Benny here will take care of it. Benny, you can change the oil for this gentleman, can't you?"

"Of course," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "Of course I can."

Pepper nodded to Russ as he passed the office, he walked quickly down the hallway to the locker room.

"Oh man oh man" he muttered. He spun the dial of the lock over and over, "Oh man, oh goddamn," he struggled to align the combination, tugging after a few turns, starting over, finally getting the door unlocked. He bent over a little and looked into the locker. "God damn!" he said and slammed the door shut. He paced in the narrow row of lockers, turning his fist in the palm of the other hand. A sharp pivot on his heel and he turned out of the room and walked back to the floor. He was moving fast but kept his legs straight, went over to a bench and began opening and closing metal drawers stacked on the counter. Screws, washers, clips, pencils, larger washers. He found the wrench he was looking for and shoved it into his pocket.

"Benny I have to run out. I'll be back."

"Where you going?" Benny called from inside the car.

"Gotta go," Pepper turned and looked at Benny, bouncing in place on his toes. "I gotta go and call my momma," he turned and split.

There was a haze over the street, the sun was bright but not sharp, dull in the thick humidity. Feeling the heat through his canvas outfit Pepper moaned. "Who loves the sun?" he said. When he was just clear of the garage he began to sprint. "Goddamn lady," he said swinging his arms.

Hearing a crack of laughter Pepper looked across the street. In the shade of a recessed doorway a few kids sat eating popsicles. Their bikes were piled against the side of the building. He quickly glanced up and down the street, some cars close by, and shot across the road. Horns blared.

"Hey, hey guys," he called approaching their stoop. One of the kids was draining the orange liquid from the end of the plastic popsicle tube. "What you say that if I can guess what grade you're in you let me borrow one of your bikes?"

"No way!" said a skinny kid in a mesh tank top. "I don't even let Casey borrow my bike and he's my cousin," he said pointing his thumb at a freckled face.

"You ain't borrowing my bike, neither!" said another, wrapping his empty plastic tube around his finger.

"Nuh uh, can't ride mine," said Casey.

"Come on just give me one guess," he pleaded.

"Fine, one guess," said the first boy. "But you're still not getting my bike I just want to see what you gonna say."

"Fifth graders!" Pepper blurted.

The kids erupted with laughter. One of them slapped his knee.

"Do I look like a giant to you?" the first boy said.

"Yeah, a giant?" said the other, lifting the shoulders of his tank top and puffing his cheeks. "I'm gonna drink all your milks! You better run!" he said, the others laughing.

"Well, what if I buy you some ice cream?"

"We just had popsicles, where you gonna get ice cream, anyway?" Casey asked.

"From that truck," Pepper said pointing, "down there." The boys turned to look, shielding their eyes against the sun.

With their heads turned Pepper grabbed the bike closest to him, jerked it away from the wall and began sprinting with the bike rolling beside him. The boys turned.

"Hey!" called tank top. "He's taking our bikes!"

"He's taking our bikes!"

"Help! Help!"

They all began wailing, running after Pepper. He stopped, straddled the bike and began pedaling off as fast as he could. The boys kept chase.

"He's stealing it! He's stealing my bike!"

"Help! Stop - thief!"

"Burg-u-lar! Burg-u-lar!"

Pepper pedaled on, down the street.

He kept on, pumping his legs over the small frame of the bike, looking for any sign of the woman and her Mustang. "Come on, come on," he said looking around. His eyes stung in a mix of heat and sweat. He kept darting his eyes and head about, looking for the car.

He slowed as he approached a traffic light. Stopped, he panted heavily and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He squinted down the road, the cars blurry, he wiped his eyes again. He saw something up at the next light. The cars ahead slowed to a stop and against a large yellow cement mixer Pepper could just see the outline of the Mustang.

"Hot damn!" he hollered and stood to pedal. A horn and the squeal of brakes, Pepper had gone head first into moving traffic. The drivers in the intersection slammed their breaks, cursed, eyed their children. He looked around quickly and kept on. He stood up, pumping his legs as fast as he could. The car became closer, the light changed and the vehicles began moving slowly. Pepper managed to catch up, pulled along side the vehicle. He looked over, it was the woman from before.

"Ma'am!" he called still pedaling. "Ma'am!" he screamed. She looked over, her mouth opened at a startled angle. The car slowed in her distraction. "Pull over!" he called. She made a face. "Pull over!" he said, motioning to the side of the road with his head. Pepper rode his bike into the next parking lot, CARTER'S MEMORIAL, got off the bike and leaned it against a fence that wrapped around a large cluster of tombstones in varying heights and stone. The woman pulled her car in after him.

"What's this all about?" she called in a high voice.

"Ma'am, I just wanted to be sure of something with your car," he panted. "I didn't check it before you left, I just want to be sure it's all right," he said, reaching into his pocket.

"What is it?"

Pepper was already on his knees, tightening the screws on the wheel.

"Okay," he said standing. "I think that'll take care of it."

"The wheel? What was wrong with the wheel? I had the oil changed, what is there to do with the wheel?"

"Just a safety measure, ma'am," he said returning to the bike. "You have yourself a nice day." He mounted the bike and took off back to the garage. As he pumped he repeated it to himself, "Four hundred dollars." In rhythm with each push of the bike's gears, "Four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs, four hund'rd d'llrs."

Chapter 4

Pepper finished his lunch by forcing the last bite of tuna against his throbbing stomach. He let out a long, agonized groan. "I did it. I finally did it." He looked at the two empty drink containers, the pint, the empty bag of chips, the paper hot dog tray. Uncontrollably, he groaned again. "This must be the feeling of satisfaction," he said clenching his shirt in his fist. He stood up, looked at the trash on the table and turned to walk back to the garage.

It was noon, humid and heavy as Pepper walked back. The cement and bricks of the buildings he passed seemed to crumble in the heat. Every glass and metallic surface he passed, bumpers, windows, mailboxes, a garbage man's keys, put the searing reflection of the sun into his eyes. His feet barely left the pavement, scraped along the sidewalk as he felt the combination of sugar water, ice milk, fried potatoes, tuna fish, mayonnaise and the animal pieces they put into hot dogs wrestle in his stomach. Sweat poured out making rings at the neck of his shirt, under his arms and over the area of his back.

Pepper slowly approached the garage from the sidewalk. Benny was sitting on the floor cutting underwear advertisements from the paper. "What oven you crawling out of?" he said as Pepper approached. "Damn."

Pepper continued his slump step into the garage. A few feet inside he collapsed to the floor.

"Jesus, Pepper," Benny said, putting his scissors down. "What's wrong with you?"

Pepper groaned again and rolled onto his side. Benny walked over and Pepper uttered something. He crouched down, "What'd you say?" Pepper let out another brief moan. "I don't know, man," Benny said. Pepper hiccoughed, paused, and his body contracted around his stomach as he threw up.

"Oh, oh goddamn," Benny said standing up. "That's gross. That is so gross, man. Why would you eat stew on a hot day like today?" Benny backed away.

Pepper muttered. "Shut up, shut up Benny. Shut up."

"Whatever you say," Benny said. He took his bandana from his head to cover his face.

Pepper continued to lay on his side, whispering to himself incoherently. "You just go ahead and pass out, mang," Benny said. "We ain't getting anything done today anyhow."

* * *

The roll of the garage door woke Pepper. His eyes parted slowly, the garage was full of light.

"Pepper! Pepper! God damn, boy, what, oh God look at all the upchuck. What the hell happened?"

Pepper recognized Russ' voice. He opened his eyes and stood up slowly.

"Back early, Russ?"

"Early? Early, no Pepper it's 7:30 in the morning," he said, handing Pepper a roll of paper towels. "Take care of the mess you made. And get changed, you smell like a wet grass bag," he turned towards his office.

"Morning?" he said. "Oh, damn," he whispered to himself. "Oh, damn." Pepper balled up a few paper towels for the mess and walked to his locker. He unbuttoned his shirt, opened his locker, took a pull from the mouthwash and swallowed. "Oh, no," he blurted and threw up again. "Oh, god."

He managed to change his work clothes, left with the socks and briefs from the previous day, and headed to the floor.

"Pepper," Russ called as he passed. "Come in here a sec. Sit down, tell me what you been up to, yesterday."

"Well I had lunch down at the Doggie Diner and the next thing I know I'm on the floor of the garage."

"The Doggie? But you don't get paid until next week."

"Oh, I know I know. But this gentleman Gerald he took me there and bought me lunch and he's gonna give me four hundred dollars."

"Four hundred dollars?"

"What?"

"You said 'four hundred dollars.'"

Pepper stared at Russ. "Well, what I meant to say is I must have eaten four hundred dollars of food because later on it just made me so sick that I couldn't keep any of it with me."

"All right. And who's Gerald?"

"He's a buyer," Pepper paused. "And a seller. A little bit of both, really."

"Okay, and this guy just took you to lunch?"

"Yeah."

"And how'd you meet him?"

"Well he just come in the shop said he had car troubles so I said oh I'll take a look, sir, so I did and it turned out all he need was some air in a tire and he said that's all what's the charge so I told him no charge and he said well let me get you lunch so I agreed and he took me down to the Doggie and I got some food and that was that, Russ."

"You'd think any soft-handed, scarf-wearing carpet salesman would be able to put air in a tire."

"Yeah I know," Pepper said, relieved. He pursed his lips and scratched behind his ear. "I'm the best liar this side of the Mississippi River," he thought.

"Okay let's get to work, Pepper," Russ said looking at some folders on his desk.

"Yeh, all right Russ," he said standing. Pepper wiped his forehead with a sigh. As he exhaled a red Mustang entered the garage. "Well I'll be damned," he said to himself.

"Check this out, Pepper," Benny said, pointing to the car. "In for an oil change, I can't wait-"

"Well seeing as that's my field of excellence I'll take it from here," he said. A woman was driving the car, a large pair of sunglasses buried in a lot of blonde hair.

"It'll only take a few minutes?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, in and out," Pepper said.

"I'll run to the bank, then," she said, handing Pepper the keys.

"All right, it's just across the street, there."

She rolled her eyes, but Pepper missed the gesture from under the sunglasses.

"Oil, oil, oil change!" he said, walking to a shelf for a few quarts. He cracked the plastic yellow cap off of one and sniffed it. He exhaled heavily.

Pepper raised the car and as the oil drained he took a wrench and loosened the lugs a few turns. "Took all of thirty seconds," he said to himself. Pepper finished the oil job, lowered the car and spun the key ring around his finger. He whistled a bit, pacing around the garage.

"All set?" the woman called, walking into the garage.

"Yep, nineteen dollars," Pepper said. She handed him a twenty. "I'll run and get change."

"No, keep it," she said taking the keys.

"Why thank you, thank you very much, ma'am."

She turned the engine and drove out of the garage. Pepper dusted his hands and watching the car drive off imagined the sounds it would making flipping five or six times on the interstate.

Benny was replacing a rear-view mirror on a pick-up truck as Pepper walked over. "What you working on, Benny."

"Just a rear-view, mang."

"Yep, the old rear view. Gotta have eyes on the back of your head, huh? Keep one step ahead of the other guy, don't ya?"

"Sure thing, Pepper."

"Yep, a sure thing," he said. He heard an engine approaching, then cut off and parked outside. The door slammed, and a tall man entered the garage, a cigarette clenched in his teeth. He removed his sunglasses.

"How about an oil change?" he called. "Absolutely," Pepper said.

"Great. Mine's the Mustang outside."

Chapter 3

Pepper felt a chill of disbelief. "Four hundred dollars?"

The man leaned forward in his seat. "If you'll just hear me out," he spoke slow and calm.

"I'm all ears. Don't need a damn octologist to tell me that," Pepper said, putting the car in motion.

"Why don't you pull in, here?" the passenger suggested, pointing to the Doggie Diner at the end of the block.

"Fine," Pepper said, turned the wheel into the lot and parked.

"I've heard some good things about you, Pepper."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, very good things. A kid named Teddy told me all about you, said you could use some extra money, too."

"I knew he wasn't all bad. I guess he's right about the money, too. And I'm good things, that's for sure." Pepper was talking with his hands, making fast, circular gestures. "I mean to say I'm good, I'm a good guy good at all kinds of stuff. I can do anything."

The passenger leaned back in his seat. "Well let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. I want you to really consider this job before you take it."

"Well, okay. Okay," Pepper said, wringing his hands on the steering wheel.

"You're a mechanic and what I need done is real mechanic's work. There's going to be a car coming in to your shop later this week, a red Mustang. Just coming in for a routine oil change, which I hear is your specialty."

"It is, sir, changing oil is a craft I'd say I've perfected."

"That's wonderful news. Well what we need is a little extra work. Pepper, can you promise me that what we say will stay here in the front of this car?"

"Yes I can. I won't say a word to another soul."

"All right. This is very sensitive, and it's important that it remains confidential. When the car comes in this week we need to be sure that the breaks are cut, entirely. We're hoping that when the car leaves the shop the breaks won't function and that the driver will be - "

"Taken care of, like in the movies."

"Yes, Pepper. Just like in a movie."

"Well I got a real problem with that."

"I understand," the man said quietly.

"Is this guy some kind of asshole?"

"You could say that."

"Is he the kind of asshole that likes to drive?"

"Yes, he's very fond of his cars, driving them. I can see why you wouldn't want any harm done to another car enthusiast."

"Does he like to drive fast?"

The passenger looked at Pepper for a moment. "Yes, he does."

"Well then what I could do is loosen the nuts on one of his wheels. It won't be very noticeable at first. Once he gets out onto the freeway, highway, starts speeding, the wheel will shake and break off, it'll make the car flip. That should most definitely take care of him."

"Can you be sure?"

"I've seen worse happen when the wheels are loose on accident. And I'll make em real loose."

"I see. Well you are the expert on these matters, Pepper."

"Not to toot my own horn, but yes, I do consider myself to have a highly qualified expertise," he said, tilting his head back. "Now about this money issue," Pepper said, rubbing his chin.

"Yes, I'm sorry that we can't offer-"

"I believe we agreed on four hundred dollars?"

The passenger again paused a moment, looking at Pepper.

"Four hundred dollars, in cash."

"Then I believe we have a deal."

"Excellent, Pepper, excellent."

Pepper stuck out his hand, the man looked down at it, rubbed with grease, the ends of his fingernails totally black. The man shook it and looked at Pepper. "Can I, buy you lunch?"

Pepper nodded. "Yeah, that would be real good."

They exited the car, the man walked ahead. Pepper whispered to himself, "Four hundred dollars."

The Doggie Diner was a walk-up restaurant, single window for orders and checks. A woman in a loose t-shirt was standing behind the glass, her deep-fried hair fell unevenly around her face.

"Why don't you go ahead and order. Please, get whatever you want," the man said.

"Okay, thanks," he said, leaning back to look at the menu. "I'll have a hot dog, and a Coke. Let me get a small french fry, and a half-pint of tuna fish. Let's see I'll have an orange milkshake, too."

The woman was still writing, "Will that be all?"

"Can I get mustard, mayo and ketchup on the dog?"

"Sure."

"And some relish?"

"Okay."

"Oh and some chips?"

"They come with the hot dog."

"No I mean right on the hot dog."

"I'll let you do that."

"Well, okay."

"Will that be all?"

"You gonna have anything, sir?"

The man stood to the side with his arms folded, looking at the asphalt. He looked up, "No, no thank you."

"It'll be six dollars and seventy-six cents," she said looking at Pepper. He gave her a blank look. The man stepped over, taking his wallet from his pocket. Pepper's mouth parted as the full wallet fanned open. The man handed her a ten.

The two men stood at the counter, waiting on Pepper's food. "Could I have the keys back, Pepper."

"Sure thing," he said, handing them over. "Sure was nice to drive that thing. Gotta sell a lot of," he stopped. "What is it you do, by the way?"

"Oh," the man said, putting the keys in his pocket. "Buying, selling, a little bit of both, really."

"I see, buying and selling. That's the way to go, you've got to buy it to sell it." Pepper was rocking back and forth on his heels. "And, I'm sorry maybe I'm getting a little personal, but what's your name, again?"

"My name is Mr. Ford. Gerald Ford."

"Gerald Ford, I think I've heard that name before."

"I would hope you have."

"Well I'm glad to put a name to a face."

The counter window slid open. "Number nine," the woman called. The parking lot, the counter, were empty. Pepper looked at the ticket in his hand. "Guess that'll be me."

"Pepper I've got to be going. I hope that we can count on you this week."

"You sure will, Mr. Ford. Absolutely."

"Number nine," the woman called again.

"Goodbye, Pepper."

"It's been a pleasure meeting you!"

Pepper took his sack of food from the window and found a seat at a picnic table on the building's shaded side.

"And now we feast," he said, unrolling the paper bag.

Chapter 2

From a small window high on the wall a thin strip of light broke across the concrete floor of Pepper's room. Last night's container lay on its side, its fumes waved in the light through the open end. In a loud, heavy sleep Pepper was stretched over the covers on his cot, his arm folded under his chest, his shoes on his feet, his belt at his waist, a stream of drool coming from his mouth over the edge of the cot. He breathed heavy and slow.

Shoes scraped down the stairs to his door, a large beating hand announced the guest.

"Pepper!"

He moved his head, his mouth open. The beating was louder.

"Pepper!"

Rolling onto his side Pepper let out a hoarse moan, he cursed quietly. He slowly sat up on his cot, propping himself with one arm, gingerly moving the other. He closed his fist and moaned again. "God damn."

"Pepper open this goddamn thing."

Pepper stood and began walking towards the door, his arm crooked at an angle. Outside the man kicked the door, Pepper unlatched the lock. The door swung open, the room filled with light.

"At last, at last. Good morning, Pepper Gray."

Pepper stood still, his face constricted around his closed eyes. "My goddamn arm is asleep."

As the man entered the room went dark again, his body nearly filling the door frame as he passed through. He had a worn straw hat on his head, the short sleeves and buttons of his filthy linen shirt were stretched to their limit. He shuffled in quickly to the corner of the room.

"I want you to give me your key, Pepper." He bent down to pick up a few rolls of toilet paper. "Just for the day, I don't want to hear any different, just for the day, now. I'm going to duplicate the damn thing so you can go on sleeping and I don't have to stand around waiting for you and your arm to wake up." He grabbed a spray bottle of Briten Up and walked over to Pepper. "The key, now Pepper."

"All right," he said, reaching for his keys. He took it from the loop and handed it out. "Here you go."

The man had the spray bottle in one hand, the rolls of toiler paper under the other arm. "Just put it in my shirt pocket." He did. "Okay well I'll see you later then," he said.

The room was dark as exited, Pepper shut the door and the room was dark again. Pepper sat on his cot, removed his shoes and found a complete change of clothes in a plastic bag under his folding bed. He checked his watch, it was almost eight o'clock.

Pepper left his room, walked up his stairs and around to the front of the house. He slowly opened the screen door, the heavy main door already open. It was quiet inside, he passed through the entry way and to the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of yellow mouthwash and turned to leave.

"Pepper," a woman's voice came from the parlor. He turned around. She stood in the doorway in a pair on panties and a red frayed and faded robe. Her ribs were nearly visible through a thin layer of skin, her eyes purple in their wells.

"Why, hello, Dee. And good morning."

"Where are you off to?"

"Work, as usual."

"Still over at Bennett's?"

"If today is the same as every one for the last sixteen years, then yes, I'm at Bennett's," he said smiling. "Seen Mister Bridgestone, this morning?"

"I haven't had the pleasure. Seeing him all the time you'd think I'd get to skip a morning once and while."

"You could always sleep until noon."

"You could always fall over a bridge into heavy traffic."

"At least it'd make today different from the rest." He put the mouthwash into his back pocket. "See you, Dee."

"Bye."

Pepper left the house for work.

The garage door was open when arrived. Inside Benny was already draining the oil from a Chevrolet.

"Morning, Benny," Pepper called.

"Hi," Benny said, tightening his bandana. "What the hell you doing?"

Pepper was squatting over the floor, the bottle of mouthwash in one hand, the cap in the other. His cheeks inflated, deflated, he spit into the floor drain and then gasped. "I don't want to offend nobody." Before standing he picked up a washer from the floor.

"If you kept your mouth shut then no one would hear you or smell you," Benny said. He turned back to his work.

Pepper walked to the back of the shop, put the bottle in his locker and headed for the break room. He stood in front of the vending machine, considered Captain Mack's Fried Cheesers, inserted the washer and pressed A-9 for a package of pink Puffy Sno-Puffs.

Back on the shop floor Pepper had his breakfast. "Russ called," Benny said. "He ain't coming in today."

"And why the hell not?"

"Said he's got a 'pointment with the octocologist."

"You mean the octologist."

"Whichever. His ear is all fucked up he said. Must be, too, he kept having me say the same shit over and over again."

"Oh well." Pepper shoved his second Sno-Puff into his mouth. "Guess it'll be a slow day. Works out, really. Russ isn't around to make us keep doing stuff, and we make more money by charging extra labor for doing absolutely nothing."

"My kind of day," agreed Benny. "This oil's just about changed, already."

"I guess we could work on that truck that was dieseling."

"Pepper!"

"Oh, yeah. I meant to say I'll be sitting in the break room."

"Yeah, okay."

Benny and Pepper headed back to the break room, put their boots on the table and stared at the ceiling.

"So, Pepper. I always wanted to ask you something."

"What's that, mang."

"What's it like living where you live?"

"Ah, the basement ain't so bad."

"No, I mean in a whore house."

"Well. First of all it's a brothel. Mr. Bridgestone runs a fine establishment."

"All right."

"Second of all, it's the storage room of a brothel, it's not a basement. And number two, it's the best thing on Earth, mang! Just this morning the first face I saw was Dee's, she's this real hot lady, a real fox, the number one girl, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, okay. What was she wearing?"

"A robe, underwear."

"And?"

"And nothing, mang. Just saw her there with her chest just hanging out. Flapping like the American flag in the wind."

"Goddamn, goddman!"

"Goodamn right, mang."

The service bell rang in the garage.

"Shit," said Pepper, standing up. "I'll go check it out."

"Okay," said Benny, draping his bandana across his eyes.

A man in a gray suit was waiting in the garage. "Hello, there."

"Hi," Pepper said approaching. "What can we do for you?"

"Well, I think my clutch is overheating. I smell this burning rubber when I've run the car."

"Hmm, could be, could be. Where do you have it parked?"

"Oh, right outside," he said, motioning behind him. "Can we take a look?"

"Of course."

Waiting in the lot was a black Jaguar. "Dear lord! This thing's giving you trouble?"

"Yeah, I can't believe it, either."

"I'll be sonofabitched, this thing looks brand new."

"It is. Here, why don't we get in, you drive, tell me what you think."

"Why didn't you take it to the dealer?"

The man pointed the keys at the car, a beep disarmed the car and he handed the keychain to Pepper.

"All right, let's see," he said, excited. He started the engine, adjusted the mirrors and seat. They took out of the lot.

"Seems to be shifting just fine. Sounds fine, no rubbing,"

"Well,"

"And there's no odor, I don't quite-"

"Listen, let's just cut to the chase here."

Pepper down shifted the engine, and stopped the car at a light. He looked at the passenger.

"How would you like to make four hundred dollars?"

Chapter 1

It was a hot and muggy night. Hours after sun set the air hung heavy and thick. Cars not worth stealing rattled in the streets, swaths of bugs circled the lamps. A single fluorescent flicked in the garage of Bennet's Auto Repair, its last two employees closing for the night.

Russ, the shop manager, took a can of Schlitz from a small cooler and leaning on the closest Pontiac cracked it open. He took a long pull. "What a ridiculous day," he said throwing the can aside.

A voice came from under the car, "It wasn't so bad, mang." Pepper Gray slid out from underneath, leaned up from his dolly.

"Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, Pepper? After that brown out, just sitting here in the shop for four and a half hours waiting for the power to come back on, in this stinking heat, in this god-forsaken garage, breathing the smell of gasoline all day. You can cross this one off with a marker on your calendar, Pepper, but mine's going to have a big goddamn skid mark across it."

"I feel like I've been changing oil all day," wiping his brow with a filthy pink rag.

"You have been, Pepper."

"I guess you're right. You ever drive some place, and show up there, cut off the engine and wonder how you got there?" Russ took his keys from his pocket. "Kind of like auto pilot, just becomes automatic, you know, you just end up there. Changing oil can be like that."

"Well, good night, Pepper."

"Good night."

Pepper stood, walked to the shop sink and leaning over watched the beer he'd had at lunch stream from his bladder and down the drain. He scratched the back of his head, closed the rolling steel garage door and locked the shop for the night.

He headed out of the shop in the opposite direction of home, kicking along slowly. On the sidewalk the street lights hummed, the insects flicked on the bulbs. Passing underneath Pepper felt the asphalt crackling from the heat. In the distance, above the yellow fog of the lamps, Pepper could hear the drone of the moon, a brother to the fluorescent discs in the garage.

There was a cluster of teenagers in front of the Sunbeam Gasoline smoking mentholated cigarettes, passing a paper bag around. They turned as Pepper approached. "Hey, Pepper" said the tallest of the group, running his hand over his fresh flattop. "Nice hair cut."

Pepper looked up at his bangs, hanging just over his eyebrows. "I haven't had a haircut in months, Teddy."

"Fuck you."

He turned and entered the store, maneuvering his way to a spot beneath a cardboard sign for Custer's Light. Pepper took a twelve-pack from the fridge and read the box quietly to himself. "Appalachian-brewed with the finest rice and barley." He looked back to the fridge and read the only truly important text, "12PK $4.99."

Pepper lifted the case to the counter and nodded to the frayed, toothless woman behind it. He put his hand into his pocket, digging for his cash, admiring the tilt of her burgundy purple wig. Empty, he switched to the other pocket. Empty, too. "Goddamn," he muttered. He reached back to his wallet, opened the fold and as he'd expected found it empty. "Goddamn it." He took the case, returned it to the fridge and walked out of the shop.

The teens were still on the walk, crowded around a trash can. "Hey, you guys can spare me any change? Like a buck each, I don't have any money and I really just need to get a buzz going."

"Ah, shit, Pepper you know we don't have any money. Why else would we be sharing this Pink Petal?" Teddy said.

"Yeah, I thought it was worth a shot."

"I got you, mang," said Plant, a pudgy kid in a denim vest.

"Bullshit, Plant, why'd you hold out on us?"

"I gotta keep some cash for an emergency, like this one," he said reaching into his pocket. "I know I've got it someplace." Pepper held out his hand. "Five bucks, I know it," he switch to another pocket, his hand deep inside. "Oh, here it is," Pepper leaned closer, Plant made a noise with his throat and spit into Pepper's open hand. The group erupted with laughter.

"Man that was messed up man," Pepper said, wiping his hand on the trash bin.

"You deserve it and you know it," Teddy said. Pepper turned and walked away to the sound of enthused high-fiving.

It was a few blocks back to the garage, and a few blocks past that home. Pepper approached the shop, his head hanging in disappointment. He kicked an oil can in the gutter, looked into the shop. By the single flickering light inside and noticed a flash of green on the shop bench. He took his keys from his pocket, entered the shop and went over to the bench. In white text the green can read Tinnley's Paint Thinner. At the sink he filled the half-empty canister with water, pocketed the can, closed the shop and headed home.

Pepper lived the basement of a large white house. The screens peeled from every window, the paint chipped and splintered from the siding. He walked around the back of the house, slapping the bugs from his face as he struggled for his keys under the single bulb over the entrance to his room. He spit a gnat from his mouth as he quickly swung the door open and closed again. Inside he pulled the string for the room's single bulb and sat heavily on his cot. He took the paint thinner from his pocket and after a few determined swallows was fast asleep.