Read Evangeline for Free Online Page B

forgot my wallet,” I informed the bartender.  “But trust me, I’m old enough.”
    Pete frowned and removed the glass from the bar.  “Unless you can show some identification, miss, I can’t serve you.”
    “Seriously,” I frowned. 
    “Seriously,” Pete deadpanned.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
    I huffed indignantly and slid off the stool. “This place sucks,” I barked over my shoulder while wobbling back toward the door.  Before exiting I caught Harland Lee ogling my ass.  The man averted his eyes but it hardly mattered… I knew he’d taken the bait.               
     
     
    At ten past si x , a few minutes before Harland Lee Wade was due to depart, I climbed from the pickup and stood beside the open driver’s side door.  Every minute or so I checked my clasp wristwatch-- an old-school windup that once belonged to Mother.  A cell phone certainly would have been nice, but my sister was the last teenager on the planet without one. 
    As 6:15 came and went there was still no sign of Harland.  At twenty past the hour, with the sun hovering low on the horizon, I considered poking my head back into the bar to see where he’d disappeared to.  And that’s when I heard the man calling goodbye to Pete the bartender. 
    It was show time, folks.  I immediately launched into my performance-- leaning into the truck with my ass sticking out, pretending to search for something under the seat.  “Dammit,” I cried out in frustration.  “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
    “Something wrong?”
    I straightened and glanced over to find the pervie standing outside his car.  There was no indication he recognized the truck as the same that had fled his house a few weeks earlier. 
    “I lost my keys,” I said, feigning panic. “I don’t know how I’ll get home.”
    “When was the last time you saw them?” he asked, brushing past me and leaning into the cab. 
    “Right after I got here… I think.”
    He ran his fingers behind and under the bench seat.  “Maybe you left them in the bar.  I can take a look if you want.”
    “Oh, would you?  That is so sweet.”
    As the man disappeared back into Pete’s Canteen, I took the opportunity to primp the wig and check my look in the side-view mirror.  In all modesty, friends, your humble servant’s performance had been Oscar caliber.  But the show was far from over.  In a few minutes Harland Lee returned to the parking lot. 
    “I checked where you were sitting and there’s nothing there,” he said crossing toward the truck.  “The bartender hasn’t seen them either.  Is there someone you can call?”
    I shook my head.  “I’m kind of new in town,” I told him, before anxiously checking the watch.  “Shoot.  Listen, I have an extra set of keys at the house.  Would it be too much trouble to drive me there?  It’s only five minutes.”
    “Absolutely,” he said, waving me toward his Cutlass.  “Hop in.”
    “Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” I said, grabbing my purse from the cab and hurrying after him.  “Thank you so, so much.”
    “Which way we headed?” he asked as he slipped behind the wheel.
    I climbed into the passenger’s seat and pointed north.  “Township Road.”
    We left Pete’s Canteen, headed for the remote spot I’d chosen for the execution.  It was the October harvest and clouds of brown dust rose on the horizon where the combines were running through the cornfields in a fading light. 
    “So what’s your name?” asked the pervie, trying to kick-start the conversation.
    “Evangeline.”
    “I’m Harland.”
    “Nice to meet you, Harland.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
    “Not a problem.”  He smiled over at me. “So you’re new in town, huh?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Where you from?”
    “Oklahoma.  Tulsa.”
    “An Okie, huh?”
    “Yup.  I’m an Okie, alright.  An Okie who needs a pokie.”
    The man turned with a confused look.  “Sorry?”
    “Next