“A bad Travolta festival. That is pretty bad.”
“Too bad?”
“Not with the right people.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I get up and so does Janet.
She says, “Can I come to your movie night?”
“I didn’t say I was doing it. It’s just something I’m thinking about.”
“Do you like drive-ins?”
“In fact, I’ve had some very intense times at drive-ins.”
She fans herself like she’s scandalized.
“Really?”
“Not like that.”
“The Devil’s Door is having a seventies festival.”
“I heard about that.”
“I’ll remind you the next time you come in.”
“Next time.”
“Aha,” she says. “Then there is a next time.”
“I mean, I come in all the time.”
Janet puts her donuts in a bag.
“Sure, sure. That’s what you meant.”
I nod at the door.
“I should go.”
Janet points over my shoulder.
“Look at those guys,” she says.
When I turn, I feel her put something in my hand. The two guys, however, just sit there.
When I look back for Janet, she’s gone. And she slipped me a piece of paper with her phone number. Nicely done. She has some disappearing tricks too. I start to throw her
number away, but after a moment’s hesitation I put it in my pocket instead.
Maybe I’ll have a movie night after all.
Or maybe steal a car and go to Flicker’s. Not with anyone necessarily. But maybe. Who knows?
I walk down Hollywood Boulevard in the morning sun for a couple of blocks.