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towns have prejudices just like big cities. But I think it was more important who you hit than who you rescued.”
    “Pizza-face?”
    “That was Fabian Gerstner.”
    “Should that mean something to me?”
    “It does to people around here. He’s one of three brothers who live over in the next town.”
    “There are three of them?”
    Marianne nodded, frowning. “Fabian is baby. Jesse, he’s the middle one, is skinny and mean as a snake. Lloyd is the oldest and strongest. He’s already been in prison. The nastiest of the three …”
    “Sounds like a terrific family.”
    “Their father ran off when Fabian was born and their mother died about the time he started high school.”
    “You’re going to tell me they’re disadvantaged youngsters?”
    “No. They’re just plain bad. Nobody likes the Gerstners, but nobody messes with them either. If I were you I’d watch my back.”
    “Thanks for the tip.”
    “You’re welcome.” She gave him that melting smile, and started to turn away.
    “Wait a minute.”
    She turned back.
    “Can I say something real and personal?”
    “Sure.”
    “I know you’re going with my cousin and all, and I’m not trying to cut him out, but really, about you and me doing something together? I’m going crazy with boredom.”
    “You’re asking me for a date?”
    “Well … yeah.”
    “Because you’re bored?”
    “That’s not the most important reason.”
    She pretended to think it over. “I guess it would be okay.”
    “Terrific. Just one thing … what do you do on a date around here?”
    “There’s always something. For instance, this week there’s a carnival in Elkhorn City. That’s fifteen miles north of here.”
    “A carnival? You mean merry-go-round and baseball throw and that junk?”
    “Don’t worry, Mr. Hollywood, there’s a dance too on Saturday. I hear they’ve got a darn good band coming from Milwaukee.”
    “Sounds great. Let’s do it.”
    “You can pick me up on Saturday night at seven o’clock.”
    “Great. Where do I find you?”
    “At my house. My father will want to meet you before we go anywhere.”
    “Is he going to ask me what are my intentions?”
    “Don’t be smart. Go almost to the end of Main Street, just before the Thriftway, and turn left. My house is next to last one on the right side of the street.” She looked back over her shoulder at the New Emporium. “I’ve got to get back to work. See you Saturday.”
    Kyle watched her walk away from him, strawberry hair bouncing against the back of her neck. He grinned, wincing at the small ache in his cheekbone, but he felt just fine.

FOUR
    Kyle spent Saturday afternoon washing and waxing the Caravelle. When he could see his face grinning back at him from the caramel-colored hood, he started in on the interior. He cleaned out the junk, stacking it neatly in case there was something Uncle Bob wanted to save. He went over the vinyl upholstery with a damp chamois and finished up spraying the whole thing with an aerosol cinnamon scent he hoped would be seductive.
    When he was finished, the Plymouth was still not something that would turn heads on a cruise down the Boulevard, but he could put Marianne Avery in next to him without being too embarrassed.
    As he stood back admiring his work, a mutter of thunder sounded off toward the western horizon. Kyle glared up at the sky where clouds had been shading the day since late morning.
Yeah, right, go ahead and dump on me
, he thought,
everybody else does
.
    He made a run into town to pick up a pint of vodka at the Thriftway. It never hurt to have an emergency bottle in the car. Although he was not in the habit of using them, he considered buying a pack of condoms. Then he conjured a picture of the Rexall pharmacist getting on the phone to Marianne’s father.
    “You know that young fella from California? Came in today, bought a box of rubbers. Just came right up and asked for ’em bold as brass. Who you s’pose he plans to use ’em