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buy gasoline for men claiming to need gasoline. Ty scratched his neck and shrugged. “Cool,” he said, waving Mark to pull forward.
    The traffic light turned green and traffic began to move. The man stopped the driver of the car behind Mark’s and asked one more car for a dollar for gas. Mark saw the faces of a few drivers as they passed by, many probably tucking their safety tolls back into their wallets and purses. As the emancipated cars passed, the two men talked by the side of the road. The drivers glared at them, some the disdainful looks spilling over onto Mark, parked twenty feet ahead.
    He saw Ty and the muscular accomplice in his rearview mirror. They were in a heated discussion. The traffic light was still green. It wasn’t too late for Mark to change his mind about the gasoline. In fact, getting involved at all seemed stupider by the second. If he pressed his foot on the accelerator he could be rid of these posers—these cons—in a matter of seconds. The scam these guys were running was clear to him, and he felt compelled to make their lie obvious and to call them out on it. His offer to buy them some gas had yielded the confusion that proved they were nothing but cons.
    The muscular, sleeveless beggar’s knuckles rapped on Mark’s window, startling him. As the glass slid down, Mark said, “I’ll pop the trunk, put your can in and I’ll be right back.”
    At the same time Mark’s back door opened. In flew the gas can followed by the wiry man who got in and closed the door.
    “Just put that can in my trunk and I’ll be back with some gas in it,” Mark said.
    “Naaaaa. It’s all good. I ain’t gonna dirty yo ride. It’s only a few blocks. I’ll walk back,” the man said. He pointed his finger forward and lifted his chin for Mark to drive.
    Mark assessed his options. He could tell the man to get out, but then Mark would feel like a coward and risk provoking an angry reaction from men who look like they’d have no problem folding Mark’s body small enough to fit into something the size of the gas can. Or he could drive to the gas station, spend a few bucks and end this nuisance of a situation that he shouldn’t have gotten involved with in the first place. He looked back over the seat at the sparkling clean gas can. It wouldn’t hold more than five gallons.
    The big man headed back to the Chevy. Mark eased the car out into traffic with his passenger and the cleanest gas canister in Los Angeles County. In his rearview he saw the big beggar get into the driver’s side of the Chevy. Mark watched him as long as he could—to see if the Chevy moved. It didn’t—at least not while Mark could still see it.
    §
    While driving, Mark’s concern about the situation grew. He considered another plan. Maybe he could ditch the guy at the gas station. After all, if these guys needed gas, what better location to ditch them? Mark’s free ride was more than enough of a handout and a good deed for the day, he thought. But the con game irritated him. He still wanted their ploy exposed.
    “I’m Mark. I heard your buddy call you Ty,” he said, craning his neck to see Ty in the rearview mirror. Ty stared back and only nodded. Mark felt a hint of danger, but he brushed it off after considering that the drive was short and at no point would he be alone with Ty. Besides, Ty didn’t look strong. He was wiry, his scruffy beard was unkempt. His bad grooming didn’t match the clean sweatpants, new running shoes and blue windbreaker he wore.
    Ty’s attitude problem only strengthened Mark’s remorse for getting involved. Was there a chance that these men really needed gasoline? In a city where so many people had a true need for financial help, the thought of two men leveraging the kindness of people to con cash irked Mark.
    During the rest of the drive to the gas station on Wilshire at 5th, Mark made no more attempts at conversation with Ty. He looked back over the seat only once and saw Ty staring at him with the