Vinny sat up straight in the driver’s seat. The smell of the air had changed. He blindly reached for the handle to roll down the window, which was only open a crack. He rolled it all the way down, craning his neck to feel the wind on his face. It didn’t smell like the city anymore. He couldn’t detect the smell of oil, exhaust, and garbage. The last city he drove through was miles away; he’d been driving in the dark desert for three hours now. But he felt like he’d really left the city behind. Now the air smelled thin and clear. It wasn’t salty like his comforting ocean air, or smoggy like his hometown, Manhattan, New York. It was almost empty air, full of fine, settled dirt and dry plants. But it was comforting, and a good change.

Vinny sat back in the seat again, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching for the coffee cup to the right. His hand hit a textbook covered with lecture notes. He shoved these aside, angry he’d left them in the car. He found the cup, brought it to his lips, and tasted cold coffee. He gagged, holding the liquid in his mouth. He thought about tossing the foam cup out the window, letting it decompose on the side of the road with other litter items and roadkill. But he didn’t see any litter on the shoulder of the road, and though better of his decision. He spit out the disgusting coffee in his mouth, figuring it probably splattered along the side of the van. He put the cup back in the holder, clearing his throat as he sat back, eyes on the road ahead.

Vinny heaved a great sigh, letting it out audibly in the silent car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. 1:19 a.m. He didn’t know how much longer he could go without fresh coffee, or some form of caffeine. He glanced at the passenger seat, eyes quickly scanning the items placed there: his backpack, a map, an empty water bottle, and a Dairy Queen napkin. That wouldn’t help much. The next town was still a good two hours away, if not more. He would have to find a place to stop, and soon.

Vinny sat up straighter, squinting for signs on the side of the road. He got excited once when he spotted something, but it turned out to be a cactus.

“Damn,” Vinny whispered under his breath. Now he was starting to fade. He reached out to turn the radio on. The sound crackled in the speakers; it was something old, sounding like Bowie or something. The reception wasn’t good, so he turned the dial, stopping on some country song. He cringed, turning it again and landing on a classical station.

“Okay, that’s good,” he said aloud. He put both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. There was a sign coming up. He slowed, seeing it was made of wood. The paint was peeling, and the advertisement was hardly there anymore. What remained read “Harvey’s Hambur—” and “2 miles at the—”.

“At the what?” Vinny asked the car, voice rising as he drove past. Well, he knew it was two miles away at some landmark. It couldn’t be hard to miss, not out here where there was flat land to the left and right.

Vinny drove on, looking over the landscape for any sign of life. After a few minutes, he saw a white spot of light ahead on the left side of the road.

“Thank God,” he breathed, getting closer. He was relieved to see the whole place lit up, and there were two cars in the dirt parking space in front of the restaurant. Vinny could see a sign mounted on a white pole: Harvey’s Hamburger Joint. The words were in red letters, curved like they used to write in the fifties. The building itself was oval shaped and silver. It reminded Vinny of aluminum foil.

He put on his turning signal just for the heck of it as he pulled into the parking space. He stopped between the two cars, throwing the van into park and killing the engine. He sat where he was for a second, surprised by the silence. Bright fluorescent lights lit the outside and inside of the building, causing Vinny to squint and instinctively reach for his sunglasses. He dropped his hand, knowing that would be stupid to wear sunglasses at night. He looked through the windows of Harvey’s, seeing one person was sitting at the old bar. It was a woman wearing a white tank top, old jeans, and her blonde hair was in a careless bun. The fact that there was someone else there gave Vinny a boost of confidence to go inside. He grabbed his black jacket—he chose it over his university sweatshirt—taking the keys and opening the door. He stepped into the silent parking lot, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. He paused, as if afraid someone might appear and tell him to be quiet. But no one came, and he locked the car, then pocketed the keys. Shrugging into his jacket, he went towards the door.

He frowned at the bright lights inside. “Earth Angel” played softly from the jukebox in the corner. Vinny just stared at the jukebox for a minute, looking at the bright neon reds and yellows, at the bubbles that floated inside some of them. He noticed there were real records inside.

“Hi there.”

Vinny turned to the old fifties bar looking at the man who had addressed him from behind it. He wore a white apron over his clothes, and a little white hat over his graying hair.

“Hi,” Vinny replied softly, fingering the zipper of his jacket.

“Late night, huh?” the man asked, smiling kindly as he took a rag from under the bar. Vinny nodded, wondering if he should sit down or not. He was looking at the back of the woman sitting on the barstool, and at the many empty booths around the place. It would be rude to just sit somewhere else, wouldn’t it? And the woman would probably be too tired to talk anyway.

Vinny made up his mind, making his way to the barstools. He left one empty seat between him and the woman, who he glanced at out of the corner of his eye. She looked no older than him, and seemed exhausted. She had a plate in front of her, looking like it was hardly touched. She turned to Vinny, smiling faintly. Vinny returned it, looking up as the man behind the counter slipped a menu in front of him.

“Thanks,” Vinny said, opening the soft plastic menu. He pretended to scan the items, really thinking over how he was going to order his coffee. I’ll just have coffee, thanks. I have a job interview to get to by tomorrow, or, Just coffee. I’ve got to get to my brother’s hotel by morning.

“Road trip?”

Vinny looked up from the menu at the young woman. She’d spoken softly as if unsure Vinny would reply. She brushed a hand across her cheek, moving a stray hair out of her face.

“Of a sort,” Vinny replied, equally soft.

“I noticed your van.”

Vinny glanced over his shoulder at his beat up vehicle. He could clearly see the long crack in the windshield, all the crap in the backseat, the rust around the tires.

“Yeah it, uh—it does the job,” he said as he turned back. “Is that your car?” He referred to the nicer Volvo next to his van.

“Oh no, I don’t know whose that is. I was dropped off here,” she said. Vinny just stared at her for a moment.

“Dropped off?” he repeated. “Is someone picking you up?” He asked the question just as it popped into his head.

“I called a friend,” she said, shrugging.

“Oh,” Vinny replied. He nodded slightly to himself, examining the menu again. He didn’t see anything that sounded exceptionally appealing. He looked up, seeing the man had his back to him.

“Sir—”

“Harvey,” the man corrected kindly, looking at Vinny.

“Harvey,” Vinny said slowly. “Um . . . I’ll just have coffee. For now.”

“Coffee? Okay. You want cream and sugar?” Harvey asked, straightening.

“Sure,” Vinny said. Harvey walked into another part of the kitchen, making small sounds as he prepared the coffee.

“So what are you out here for?” the young woman asked. She pressed her hands between her knees and Vinny noticed goose bumps on her skin.

“I’m just on my way to visit some people,” Vinny replied. “You?”

“The same,” she replied, picking up her fork. She prodded the mashed potatoes on her plate, watching the butter ooze down the side. “What’s your name?”

“Vinny,” he replied, extending a hand out of courtesy.

“Lauren,” she said, taking his hand. Vinny noticed how could her fingers were.

“Here you go.” Harvey had returned, and he put the white mug of coffee in front of Vinny, two little cartons of cream beside it.

“Thanks,” Vinny replied, taking the spoon off the paper napkin next to him. He poured the two cartons of cream into the cup, scanning the bar counter for the sugar. It was to the right of Lauren.

“Hey, could you pass me the sugar?” Vinny asked.

“Sure,” she replied, reaching for it. She put it on the stainless steel counted next to Vinny, and he thanked her, taking it. He poured a generous amount into the mug, then stirred it with the spoon. Lauren was nudging her food again, looking like she was debating whether or not she should eat it. Vinny watched her carefully, noticing how she touched her ribs.

Vinny took a drink of the coffee, blessedly warm. He savored the taste, looking at the Coca-Cola clock over the jukebox. It was 1:45. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Why don’t you stop at a hotel or something?” Lauren asked.

“I don’t think there are any on this road,” Vinny said, holding his head up with one hand as he looked at her. He noticed her eyes, a dark aqua and a little bloodshot in the fluorescent light.

“There’s a Motel 6 a little ways from here,” Lauren said.

“Oh . . .” He didn’t expect to stop. He really wanted to get through to the next town without stopping. He really couldn’t afford to stop now.

“I’m trying to go all the way through,” Vinny said. Lauren nodded in understanding, stretching her spine and adjusting the strap of her white tank top. Vinny paused, listening to the Elvis song that had just come on. He felt edgy suddenly; he felt like he needed to leave soon. He figured he would at least finish his coffee.

Vinny turned the menu over, planning on putting it back in the pile on the other side of the counter. His eyes looked over the desserts, and he saw one that made him reconsider: ice cream sundae. He hadn’t had a sundae in a long time, and it was sugar, too. He grinned and put the menu down, reaching into his pocket to see how much money he had. He pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill and fifty cents. There was more in the car somewhere, but he didn’t feel like looking for it. Five fifty would do it.

“Um—Harvey?” he called.

“Yeah?” Harvey’s voice came from somewhere in the kitchen.

“Could I have a—a sundae?”

Harvey laughed, appearing with a towel in his hands.

“A sundae?” he asked, al smiles. Vinny nodded. “Okay then.”

Lauren laughed softly, reaching up and taking her blonde hair down. “A sundae at two in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Vinny said, unable to hold back a smile. “I have a craving, I guess.”

Harvey came out again, carrying a small glass bowl.

“Here you go, kid,” he said, placing it in front of Vinny. Vinny smiled in reply, picking up his spoon and dunking it in the vanilla ice cream. The spoon and the ice cream froze his tongue with a pleasant sensation, and he countered it with the smooth whipped cream.

“I haven’t had one of these in a long time,” Vinny said, licking the spoon clean. Lauren smiled softly, resting her chin in her hand. Harvey came out again, asking Lauren if she was done. She replied yes, and Vinny glanced at her plate, the food hardly touched. Harvey took it away, going back into the lighted kitchen.

“I should try Rachel again,” Lauren muttered, getting off her stool. She hopped off, going to the back of the restaurant near the restrooms. Vinny took another drink of coffee, looking down at the bags next to Lauren’s stool. There was an olive green duffel bag, stuffed full, and another in red, equally full. Her purse lay on top of the duffel bag, a few one-dollar bills sticking out. Vinny was still curious as to why Lauren, an obviously exhausted and alone young woman, would want to be dropped off at an old fifties-style restaurant at one in the morning.

Vinny ate everything from the sundae but the banana. He cut it into pieces with his spoon as he listened to Lauren drop coins into the pay phone. He put a wedge of the banana in his mouth, chewing slowly. He hadn’t actually had a banana in a really long time. Considering it was his favorite fruit, that was odd. He was glad he’d ordered the sundae, even though the ice cream made him shiver.

Lauren returned from the pay phone looking stressed and pissed off. She sat down heavily, fiercely tucking her hair behind her ear.

“No luck?” Vinny asked.

“Nope—she’s not home. Apparently, she’s in Mexico for the weekend,” Lauren said.

“Oh.” What else was he supposed to say? She would think he was some sort of crazed rapist or something if he offered her a ride to that Motel 6 she mentioned. Vinny swallowed hard and slowly finished off his banana in silence.

When the banana was gone, Vinny sat where he was, feeling the intense urge to get up and leave before he felt even more guilty. He shifted on the barstool, finally getting enough guts to clear his throat and speak.

“How much do I owe you, Harvey?” he called. The elderly man appeared from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on the apron.

“Oh . . . we’ll say five bucks,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Vinny said, pushing the bill and coins toward him. “Thanks for the coffee. And the sundae.”

“No problem, kid. Have a nice night, and find somewhere to sleep,” Harvey said, giving Vinny a warm smile.

“Right, I will,” Vinny replied, bracing his hands on the bar as he stood. He slid off the stool, heaving a sigh as he faced Lauren.

“Well,” he started, “have a good night.” Oh that was grand.

“Thanks, you too,” Lauren said, smiling. Vinny returned it, weakly, and gave a small wave as he turned towards the door.

“Good night,” Harvey called after him.

“ ’Night,” Vinny said, pushing the door open. The air outside was only a degree warmer than the air from inside Harvey’s. Vinny shivered and zipped up his jacket. He stood next to his van, staring at the ground as he reached a hand into his pocket for the keys. He tried his best to concentrate on putting the key in the keyhole, and not looking in the direction of the restaurant. When he finally unlocked the door, he hurriedly climbed inside, slamming the door shut.

His eyes wandered up as he put the key in the ignition. He saw Lauren’s back, her hand raking through her hair. He grit his teeth, looking at the dashboard clock: 2:15. He looked at his passenger seat at the mess of things there. He couldn’t just leave her there. Who knew if she would find a ride at all?

“God damn it,” Vinny whispered, opening the door again. He jumped onto the dirt, shoving his hands in his pockets. He would have to risk being thought of as a crazed rapist.

He reached the door of Harvey’s and pushed it open with his side, almost smashing the door into the wall.

“Lauren,” he said, trying to think of what he was going to say. She turned around, looking surprised to see him again. “Look—I can give you a ride to the next city if you want.”

He waited, impatiently tapping his toes in his boots. You accept or decline, come on, he thought. It was a big enough step just offering, as he wasn’t the most social of people. He was about to take it back when Lauren spoke.

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, turning to face him. “The next town is actually—”

“It’s okay, really,” Vinny interrupted. Lauren seemed to suddenly become shy, casting her eyes down and looking at her bags.

“Thanks,” she muttered, standing to get the bags. Harvey came out of the kitchen, looking at the two of them in a sort of confusion. Lauren was hoisting the stuffed olive bag onto her shoulder, stooping to get the other.

“I got it,” Vinny said, stepping forward. He took the strap, putting it over his shoulder and going to the door.

“Good night, Harvey,” Lauren said, pausing at the door.

“Good luck on your way,” he replied, wiping down the bar counter. Vinny saw Lauren hide a smile before walking out of the diner. Vinny waved to Harvey before walking out the door after Lauren.

So here’s a new one. I wrote it over the summer, and I decided to put what I have of it up to see what you all think of it! This is completely fiction, not based on my life AT ALL. Anyway, tell me what you think! (I am still working on Kiss of Death, don’t worry.)