"What's going on, boss, how we doin'?" Rex the Foreman asked as Evan

walked in. The maintenance crew was gathered around the break table, sitting in their designated chairs, eating their mid-morning snacks and breakfasts-- cold chicken, yogurt and breakfast pizza from Holden's.

"Going all right, thanks," said Evan. "How you doing?"

"Can't complain," said Rex. "Wouldn't do me any good if I did anyway. Check's in the usual spot."

Evan walked over to the desk against the wall. His check was in the top drawer, encircled with a rubber band, the only one left to be collected.

His check was for nearly seven hundred dollars. More than enough. Evan smiled at the number.

"Who's the lil' chickie you got in the car with you?" Greg wanted to know.

"That's just a friend," said Evan.

"Sure," said Greg. "She looks like a friend."

"We're just friends," Evan said again.

"No such thing," said Greg, shaking his head.

"Damn straight," said James. "Two straight young folks hanging out, the girl's either getting it put in her or getting something else out of it."

"You looking to play hide the weasel?" asked Rex, eyebrows raised.

"I'm hoping," Evan admitted.

"She's a cutie," said Rex. "Good luck to ya."

"Where'd you meet her?" asked Greg.

"I've known her since we were kids, but I ran into her last night at The Blue," said Evan, bracing himself for the response.

"The Blue?"

"Yeah."

"As in, Déjà Blue? "

"Yeah."

"In Ypsi-tucky?"

"Yeah."

"And I assume she works there," said Rex.

"Yes."

"As a dancer."

"Yes."

His co-workers all snorted laughter.

"Young Evan's spending his Wednesday afternoon with his little stripper friend!" exclaimed James.

"You use protection now, for the love of God," said Greg.

"What'd you think of the Blue?" said Rex.

"It was all right," said Evan. "I didn't get a dance with her or anything. I didn't really like it, to be honest."

"But you got a dance, though, right?"

"Yeah, I got a bunch."

"What'd you think?"

"Kind of pointless. You get all worked up for nothing."

"Well, if she already danced on ya once and now she's spending time with you outside of work, it shouldn't be too long before she's doing a different kind of dance on ya," said James.

"I didn't get the dance from her," said Evan. "It was another person."

"I used to DJ in one of those places, you know," said Rex. "Back in the day."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, for like three years. Three good years."

"I never knew this," said Greg.

"I didn't really like the atmosphere," said Evan. "Really forced."

"Yeah, there's no way you can have any compassion for another human being and still really enjoy those places," said Rex.

"Plus they're only fun if you've got real money," said Greg. "Gotta work somewhere other than here to have fun at the Blue."

"What was the girl you got your lap dance from like?" said James.

Evan was starting to think about Lily, waiting in the car. He wanted to get going. And he still had to tell them he wouldn't be here this weekend. He played with the corner of his check, dog-earing it.

"She was okay, y'know, brunette, skinny, typical stripper," he said, eyes on the door.

James guffawed.

"'Typical stripper', he says!"

"Before you take off there, lemme give you some advice that'll make you appear more gentlemanly," said Rex. "You know, for the next time you find yourself in the Blue."

"K," said Evan, still toying with the corner of his check.

"It'll help you stand out from all the other wankers. First, don't sit up front. Sit in the back or at the bar. Second, look them in the eye when you talk to them, make a point of it. You can check them out, cause that's fucking normal, but don't just stare at their tits or vag or anything for too long. Talk to their face. Third, and this is the most important-- don't try to, you know, save them or show sympathy or pity. Just, like, comment on how much money they must make. Make them laugh, if you can. If you get to know them enough they'll eventually tell you how fucked up it really is. Do that next time, and go in with more money, and you'll have about twelve little friends following you around instead of just one. Then if you show up enough, eventually they'll offer you a job. Happened to me."

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"Thanks, Rex," Evan said.

Time to move things along.

"Hey, uh, listen. I apologize for the short notice on this but I'm going to need tomorrow through Sunday off. Is that a problem?"

"Tomorrow through Sunday? Why, what's going on?"

"My family is going to take Maddie on a little road trip once she's out of the hospital, and so...yeah, is that all right?"

It was a harmless lie, more a half-truth than anything if Maddie was indeed getting out next week. Better to keep the whole audition thing under wraps for the time being. Evan wanted to get going, and bringing the audition up would escalate a whole other conversation.

"They're letting her out, eh? How's she doing now?" asked Rex, looking concerned.

He leaned on the table with his immense forearms, browned from years working in the sun. James and Greg chewed.

"She's a lot better. Still coping, but way better," Evan said. He hadn't gone into detail with Maddie's self-mutilation, only that she had been hospitalized from the trauma of discovering Jason's body.

"Where you guys going?"

"Up north, just up north. Til Sunday. I'll be back Monday."

"Again? Isn't that where you scattered your brother's ashes the other week?"

"Yeah, but we're going all the way up to the upper peninsula now," said Evan, now pulling sentences out of his ass. "My parents think the clean air will be good for her. No distractions or reminders or anything. I think they just thought of it, like, off the cuff here. No real plans. Just something to do so we can get away from everything for a few days."

"Gotcha," Rex said, looking squarely at Evan, the can of sardines he always had at break opened in front of him with the little silver fish swimming in oil.

He shrugged.

"Yeah, that won't be a problem. Nothing special going on this weekend."

Greg motioned at Evan.

"Just make sure you tell your friend there what's going on before you split on her. Looks of that one, she'll have someone else by the time you get back."

"Yeah, probably, "said Evan. "Thanks again, Rex. I gotta go."

"See you next week, boss," said Rex.

"Take care," said Greg. James nodded as his sipped his Coke.

"See you guys," said Evan.

He made for the door. He was free.

When Evan got back out to the car he was pleased to see that Lily was flipping through his copy of Lincoln's Melancholy. Evan had bought the book that previous spring and was gradually eating through it when the feeling suited him.

Evan got in and started the car. The day was beginning to heat up, and he cranked the air conditioning.

"Hey, you like Lincoln?"

Lily was halfway through a second or third cigarette. The car was filled with cigarette smoke. Evan didn't care. It was Lily's cigarette smoke, exhaled from her beautiful lungs.

"Sorry for going through your shit," she said. "I was just looking at your books. You've got like five of them. You're gonna read them all this weekend?"

She put the book back in Evan's backpack and zipped it.

"No, but I'm in the middle of that one and if I get bored with it I can start another one."

"Ah. What else did you bring?"

"I got Lisey's Story by Stephen King, Just After Sunset by Stephen King, a couple other paperbacks, I don't know, I just kind of grab them out of my collection and throw them in. Do you read much?"

"I don't think I've ever read a book, like, even once."

Evan set about putting the Motel 6 address into the TomTom his parents had lent him. He awkwardly attached the suction cup to the windshield, adjusted the small monitor, and entered the address.

"I love Abraham Lincoln," gushed Evan as he punched in the numbers. "He's my favorite president. That book is about how he suffered from depression. I just got it a couple months ago at the Border's in Ann Arbor."

Evan finished and their route was laid out before them, the red line snaking down through Ohio and Kentucky. He muted the bothersome voice lady, resolving to navigate by visual only.

"Yeah, my mom has depression," said Lily. "And so did my step-dad. I have depression, too, actually."

"It's really common. But, yeah, they're like ninety percent sure Lincoln had it, too. But he used it to make himself stronger. He was put on suicide watch a few times when he was in his twenties. But then when was around his mid-thirties, he made a decision to never let it kill him."

"No, Booth took care of that for him," said Lily.

"Uh, yeah," said Evan.

They took off out of the park. Bright green July scenery shimmered with summer heat all around them as they passed the fields where the grounds crew mowed in their diesel tractors, the fishing area where a few solitary fishermen cast their lines, and past the boat launches with the sail boats and their tall metal masts clanging in the breeze.

Evan made for the nearest PNC Bank. There he deposited four hundred dollars worth of his check and took the rest in cash. They stopped for gas outside the highway at a Mobil station where he filled up his tank, and then, finally, they were turning onto the entrance ramp at Kent Lake Rd. and accelerating down I-96 West.

Evan looked at his travel companion. She looked so charming and unassuming in her thin-strapped top. Her cleavage stood out like generous scoops of vanilla Dairy Queen ice cream. She had her sunglasses on, big aviator-style ones. She had a nose ring in, too. How had he missed that the night before? The skull's somber face stood out on her bare shoulder, dead socket holes to oblivion and the cracked teeth clenching the small joint.

"I like your tattoos," Evan remarked. "When did you get them?"

"I got these last year," Lily said, pointing at the skull and the flower on either shoulder. She pointed to the black feather and the diamond. "And these I got two months ago."

"What do they all mean?"

Lily exhaled, as if she explained this to everyone.

She tapped the blue flower on her right shoulder.

"This is a blue lily, and blue flowers are supposed to be symbols for desire and hope and love and eternity. I don't have to explain to you why it's a lily, do I?"

Evan forced a chuckle.

"No, you don't have to."

Lily pointed at the skull.

"This I picked out of a book the tattoo artist showed me. It was my first one, and I was a huge pothead at the time so I wanted something weed-related."

"Huh."

She tapped her wrist and then her forearm.

"The diamond is because diamonds are unbreakable and it's to remind me that I'm unbreakable, too. And the feather and the Dickinson quote is to remind me of my biological dad."

"What's the quote say?"

She held up her forearm so he could read the swirl of cursive. He could make out the word "nobody" and nothing else.

"It's an Emily Dickinson poem. I have a book of her poems that my dad left."

"Huh," said Evan again, turning his head to examine the quote. "Why a feather, though?"

"It's a raven's feather," she said. "My dad has one tattooed here."

She tapped her chest just above her left breast.

"Cause his nickname was Poe when he was younger. He liked to write."

Evan nodded, not sure what to say next.

He cleared his throat.

"What about the one on your, uh, under your stomach?"

"Yeah, I got that one the day I turned 18," she said. "I regret it."

Her tone shut him up. He wanted to ask more but drew a blank on what questions to ask.

The Billy Talent CD had thankfully stayed off since Kensington. They rode in silence for a few moments. Evan looked over at Lily a few times, but was so captivated by her that he couldn't think of any conversation worthy of starting.

He finally settled for telling Lily all he knew about Abraham Lincoln. Lily listened politely, lit up another cigarette and cracked the window. The blast of air from the freeway caused him to raise his voice a bit, but she still nodded as she inhaled and ashed. He had just gotten to the death of Ann Rutledge when she cut him off.

"...and then, the girl he fell in love with and broke up with Mary Todd for ended up dying, too—"

"Hey, let's listen to Alice In Chains," Lily interrupted. "I, like, just got this urge to listen to Alice In Chains."

She pitched her cigarette stub out the window and rolled the window up. The silence evened out with the pressure of the car's interior.

"K," said Evan.

Lily pulled a burned CD labeled Jar of Flies out of her CD book and put it in the CD slit.

Evan tried to keep regaling her with his knowledge of Lincoln, getting into a few awkward stories about his courtships with women and how he hadn't been very skillful at flirting.

"Sorry, that's really interesting, but I just really love this song," Lily said, quieting him with a delicate hand on his forearm. She turned up the volume and drowned him out.

"Yeeeeaaaaaah, heeeeeey, eyyyyeeee-uh- want to travel south this year," Lily sang along in a thin, reedy voice. She sat back in her seat, sunglasses on her face.

She turned to Evan.

"Travel south this year.' Just like we are. Get it?"

Evan smiled back.

"Yeah," he said. It was great to be with her.

The GPS read eight hours to Nashville.