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Show 88 the check. Now Evan says nothing. "Don't you love her?" sneers Rod. "You haven't got the committment papers," argues Evan, "You can't just put her away." "And that's where you are wrong," says Rod triumphantly, shoving the check and the small pile of bills towards the girl. "The doctors have signed them. The police have signed them. And I got Dad to sign them this morning." He leans back in his chair, so that the girl can take the money away. He sees her bend over, watches the long, dark hair fall across her face, and realizes who it is. "It's all arranged," he says to Luel's kid, "whether you like it or not." They leave through the alley that runs in the direction of the house: warm night, small town urban grime, broken bottles, billboards advertising cheap tequila. At the far end of the parking lot four or five teenagers are sitting on the pavement, smoking, laughing, passing around a bottle of wine. Luel's kid is often among them when these two men, her uncles, pass by on their way back to the house; but tonight she is still inside the bar, removing the Manhattan glasses from the table at which they've sat. |
