Byron liked him and they sometimes had coffee on their break. But only when David wasn't off with some girl, usually one of the lot lizards, which, of course, was a strictly forbidden activity for the employees and which, because he thought David was an okay guy, concerned Byron. David had a problem holding down jobs—which was understandable considering his preoccupation with anything in a skirt—and Byron was afraid he'd be losing this one soon if he wasn't more careful. About twenty minutes ago or so, Byron had been mopping the floor in front of the fuel desk and had looked out the window to see David talking with a young girl by the gas tanks. She didn't appear to be buying gas and, judging by their posture and the way David was smiling, she wasn't asking directions either. And Byron had seen enough lot lizards come and go in the truck stop—scruffy, haggard girls, usually gaunt and frail looking—to know this girl wasn't just looking for a nice word and a smile. At the time, he'd continued mopping, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, hoping the boy didn't push his luck too far. Then, as he was cleaning up a spilled Coke in the travel store, he saw the police car and thought of David again.
