Joan:

Dinner was fantastic, I already liked tofu but I’d wager that Kamal’s dish could sway even the most skeptical eater. Kamal told me he was a vegetarian (eggs and fish didn’t count but the taste of both didn’t appeal to him). Hank was a self-declared “at home” vegetarian, eating meat when he could but never bringing it into the house.

“Great dinner babe,” Hank complimented, as he cleared the table.

Kamal kissed his cheek while Hank scrubbed the dishes, “thanks for cleaning up.” The domesticity was so clearly natural to them; they’d reached a point of contentment and easy co-existence in their relationship. Seeing couples interact this way always stirred something in my bones. I could not picture myself in this situation, either because I’d never experienced it or because it wasn’t for me. It’s too soon to tell. Hank made us all some instant gourmet hot chocolate for dessert. I don’t know what made it gourmet but it was damn good. We went and sat in the living room and I braced myself for the questions.

It was Kamal who actually started, “So how did you run into Hank at that gas station in Pleasantville?”

I hugged my mug with my hands, took a deep breath, and began my tale; “I had already been on the road for two days. I borrowed a friend’s old truck that broke down a few hundred feet from that gas station, that’s why I was there.” I paused briefly and sipped my cocoa before continuing, “I caught a lucky break running into you, those Energy henchmen were pretty hot on my tail.” It had been a fortunate coincidence, finding another target of B.D. Energy conveniently around when I most needed it. A little too serendipitous for my taste. I was suspicious of the circumstances from the start; in fact, I still didn’t fully trust Hank yet. I’d estimate I was 65% sure of him at this point.

Hank nodded thoughtfully but Kamal looked concerned, “When you say these people were after you, do you mean they were trying to confront you for some reason?”

I shrugged, “Oh they were confrontational alright but not in a conversational way.”

Kamal started, “You mean-”

But I cut him off, “They were comin’ in hot, guns a fuckin’ blazing.” Both men winced at the harsh language; even the dogs sensed a change in mood. Maya approached my seat and nuzzled against my leg. I drained my hot chocolate and stroked her head, trying to calm down.

Hank reached for my empty mug, “I think you need a refill.”

I nodded, “Thank you, any chance you can spike that?”

Kamal looked uncomfortable and Hank raised an eyebrow but said, “Sure, you want Bailey’s or Peppermint Schnapps?”

I gave a small smile, “Bailey’s please.” Hank walked back to the kitchen. Kamal took off his glasses and put his face in both hands. Oh boy, guess I better try and ease the tension. I took a deep breath and started to apologize, “I’m sorry about the profanity, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Kamal shook his head without removing his hands, “Your swearing doesn’t bother me, and I just can’t believe all this is happening.” I didn’t know what to say to that. A sensation not dissimilar to a gut punch hit me suddenly (no pun intended). Coincidence or not, hitching a ride with Hank meant involving him in my plight. If these people (and dogs) were as genuine as I hoped they were, then I’d just mixed them up in a dangerous manhunt led by corporate crazies.