“That’s great, but I need a bathroom now.”

“There’s a patch of woods two blocks from here. I was planning on walking Beans and hiding behind a tree. You’re welcome to join me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Women don’t hide behind trees. We aren’t built for it. Our socks get wet.”

Hooker looked down the block at Ralph’s house. “We could probably trust Ralph to let us stay with him tonight. Ralph’s the one person who wouldn’t get accused of aiding and abetting. Nobody would ever think Ralph knew what he was doing. He’s a good guy, but his primary skill is his ability to open a beer can.”

Hooker searched for Ralph’s name and dialed it. “Hey, man,” Hooker said. “How’s it going? Are you alone? I need a place to crash tonight.”

Five minutes later, we were standing at Ralph’s back door. Hooker, Beans, and me. I had a bag of clothes. Hooker had a bag of junk food. Beans had himself.

Ralph opened the door and looked out at us. “Whoa, dude, you got a family.” He stepped to one side. “Me casa is your casa.”

Ralph was raw-boned skinny. His snarled brown hair was shoulder length. Baggy jeans hung frighteningly low on plaid boxers. His shirt was rumpled and unbuttoned. He had a beer can in his hand.

Hooker made the introductions, and then he and Ralph did one of those complicated bonding handshake things that men do when they don’t want to hug.

“We’re sort of hiding out,” Hooker said to Ralph. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

“Gotcha,” Ralph said. “Her old man’s looking for her, right?”

“Yeah,” Hooker said. “Something like that.”

Ralph draped an arm across my shoulders. “Honey, you can do better than him. He shops at Wal-Mart, if you know what I mean. Hangs out there on a Friday night with his bag of candy.”

I cut my eyes to Hooker.

“I haven’t done that for a couple weeks now,” Hooker said. “I’m changing my ways.”

Ralph scratched Beans on the top of the head, and Beans affectionately leaned against Ralph and pushed him into the refrigerator.

“Ralph and I have been friends since grade school,” Hooker said. “We grew up in the same town in Texas.”

“We both used to race cars,” Ralph said. “Only Hooker was always good, and I never had the killer instinct.”

Hooker got a couple beers out of the fridge and handed one over to me. “Yeah, but Ralph’s famous,” Hooker said. “He won the sixth-grade spelling bee.”

“Yep, I was pretty smart back then,” Ralph said. “I could spell anything. Pissed it all away. Can’t hardly spell my name anymore. Living the vida loca though.”

“Ralph hooked up with DKT Racing early on, and they brought him here to the stock-car capital of the world. And he’s still with DKT.”

“Probably could have a brilliant future there,” Ralph said, “but I prefer to keep my head up my ass.”

The kitchen appliances were avocado green and at least thirty years old. A blackened pot appeared to be stuck to a stove burner. The sink was filled with crumpled beer cans. Hard to tell the exact color of the walls and linoleum floor. No room in the kitchen for a table.

We moved to the dining room. Pool table in the dining room. Ralph had pulled a chair up to the pool table, and a pizza take-out box was open on the tabletop. There was one piece of pizza left in the box. It looked like it had been there for a long time.

“Don’t shoot a lot of pool?” I asked.

“Comes and goes,” Ralph said. “I like to use this for a dining room table because the bumpers stop the food from falling off.”

Beans walked up to the table and sniffed the pizza. He turned his head to look at Hooker, and then he looked at me, and then he put his two front paws on the table edge and ate the pizza.

The living room furniture consisted of a lumpy couch with a large burn hole in one of the seat cushions, a coffee table that was completely covered with beer cans, take-out coffee cups, crumpled burger wrappers, empty grease-stained French fry containers and fried chicken buckets, and a large-screen television occupying an entire wall.

“Bathroom?” I asked.

“Down the hall. First door on the left.”

I poked my head in and took a fast look around. Not terrifically clean, but there weren’t any dead men in it, so I thought I should be grateful. There was a stack of dog-eared publications on the floor. Mostly automotive with a few girlie magazines in the mix. A bottle of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo on the edge of the tub. Plastic shower curtain decorated with gobs of soap and streaks of mold. A single towel hung on a hook on the wall. Good chance that this was Ralph’s only towel.

Hooker, Beans, and Ralph were watching a game on television when I returned to the living room. They scooted over to make room for me, and we all sat there until close to midnight, drinking beer, pretending we were normal.

“I gotta go to bed,” Ralph finally said. “I gotta go to work tomorrow. Where are you guys staying?”

“Here?” Hooker said.

“Oh yeah,” Ralph said. “Now I remember.” And he shuffled off, down the hall, past the bathroom. A door opened and closed and then there was quiet.

“How many bedrooms does Ralph have?” I asked Hooker.

“Two. But he keeps his Harley in the second bedroom. He’s rebuilding the bike, and he doesn’t have a garage.”

“So we’re sleeping on this couch?”

“Yep.” Hooker stretched out on his back. “Hop onboard. We’ll sleep double-decker. I’ll even be a good guy and let you take the top.”

I rolled onto him, and he grunted.

“What was that grunt?” I asked him.

“Nothing.”

“It was something.”

“I just don’t remember you as being this heavy. Maybe we should cut back on the doughnuts.”

“Good grief.”

Beans came over to investigate. He looked at us with his droopy brown eyes and then he climbed on top of us and settled in with a sigh, his huge dog head on mine.

“Help!” Hooker gasped. “I can’t breathe. I’m squashed. And there’s a spring poking me in my back. Get him off.”

“He’s lonely.”

“If he doesn’t get off, he’s going to be an orphan.”

Five minutes later, we were all stretched out on the pool table.

Hooker, Beans, and I were awake but still on the pool table when Ralph staggered past us on his way to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Ralph said.

I looked at my watch. Six thirty. I had no good reason to get up, but I was uncomfortable enough not to want to stay where I was. I crawled over Hooker and wriggled myself clear of the bumper. I expected Ralph to make coffee and pause for breakfast, but he ambled through the kitchen and out the back door. He got into a truck parked in his small backyard and drove off without a backward glance.

Hooker came up behind me. “Ralph’s not a morning person. He sleeps in his clothes so he doesn’t have to decide what to wear when he rolls out of bed.”

“No shock there. Do you think he’s got coffee?”

“Ralph’s only got beer and takeout.”

I felt my shoulders slump. I really wanted coffee.

Hooker hugged me to him and kissed the top of my head. “I can see you’re crushed by that news. Never fear. You take a shower, and Beans and I will go out and get coffee.”

“Do you think it’s safe to take a shower in there?”

“Sure. Just leave your socks on.”

When I came out of the bathroom, Hooker had hazelnut coffee waiting for me. My favorite. Plus a fruit cup and a bagel with lite cream cheese. Not subtle, but thoughtful. He’d also bought newspapers.

“‘Body found inside championship race driver’s million-dollar motor coach,’” I read. “‘Police are withholding information until relatives can be notified, but sources close to the driver say the deceased was part of the Huevo race team. The body was discovered as the result of a bizarre seventeen-car crash in which the motor-coach driver fled on foot and then stole a car from an innocent bystander. The motor coach was heavily damaged in the crash.’”