She shrugs her shoulders for a second time. ‘I don’t have anything keeping me here. I mean, I like volunteering, but it’s the same problem, no green card. My father can petition for me as an alien relative, but right now, I can’t get paid work here, not legally.’
‘That sucks.’
‘It’s why I should probably just go home.’
‘What about the guy? Sounds like he’s down bad for you.’
‘Maybe.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Owen.’
‘Don’t you wanna go home to Owen?’
She looks awkward, her gaze shifting away.
‘You ever had an American boyfriend?’ I don’t quite know where that came from, the words coming out my mouth before I can put a lid on ’em.
She laughs softly. ‘No. So, when are we planning on leaving?’
Okay, so my attempt at small talk just crashed and burned.
‘I mean… do you have a plan?’ she asks pointedly.
Oh, I geddit. She’s wondering how soon I can get Noah out her apartment. ‘Yeah, I got a plan. Thought we could try and leave tomorrow night.’
I’ve got her attention, so I continue. ‘There’s a diner. To get to it, we need to head northeast to San Antonio on the I-37. Then we’ll get on Interstate Ten, right? There’s an Exxon filling station northwest of Canyon, near the exit with the Interstate,’ I say. ‘I’ll wait for you there. Then you can follow me to the diner.’
She nods her head, but says nothing.
‘I’ll pay for your gas. Along with the money I’ll pay you for making the trip.’
I get to my feet. I can’t figure her out. ‘Look, I know this is a massive inconvenience for you—’
‘It’s not,’ she interrupts. ‘I want to see Noah safe. I don’t want to see him arrested. And I’m grateful to you, for… you know. Paying me.’
‘It’s what you deserve. I know my mom would wanna thank you in person. Should I come back tomorrow?’
‘What’s the name of the diner?’ Hollie asks.
‘Missy’s.’
‘Then why don’t I meet you there, with Noah? Tomorrow night, around eleven p.m. I’ll look up the location. It’s probably best that you stay away from here. I can take care of Noah.’
‘That’s all right with you?’
It’s decent of her, for sure. When she says it’s okay, I gather up my things and get ready to head back to Rapture. A part of me thinks she doesn’t want me tagging along for the ride. That I’m not the one she wants to help.
She only cares about Noah.
I’m nervous.
It’s after eleven p.m. and she’s a no-show.
In the parking lot at Missy’s All-Night Diner, just north of San Antonio, I wait in the shadows, sitting on my motorcycle. I keep my helmet on, because it feels safer that way. There’s less chance of me being picked up on security cameras. Behind me is a motel, the Los Pinos Inn. Missy’s is advertised on a big neon billboard sign that’s hard to miss.
By eleven-thirty I’m freaking out. She ain’t here. Except then I spy her excuse for a car rolling into the lot. Figures she’d be late getting here driving that thing.