“I know. But dude, you could do cam work and probably make as much money as you’re making now without having to fuck some middle-aged trucker in his cab. You wouldn’t even be breaking the law, and you certainly wouldn’t be endangering your whole fucking existence.”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? I’d make a killing on one of those cam accounts. But I don’t need to be putting my business out on the internet because there are people I don’t need coming after me. Instead I hang around rest stops and look for the guys with angry-looking spouses in the car,” he says, flicking a look over at Omar. “You’d be surprised at my conversion rate.”
Omar, who’s been standing there silently this whole time, calmly speaks up in his deep Arabic-infused voice. “Your speech patterns indicate education. And if you are talking about conversion rates, that means you’re probably in college for a business degree. Why are you turning tricks at a rest stop?”
“I can see I should’ve waited for the quiet one. I’m turning tricks at a rest stop so I don’t end up a hundred thousand dollars in debt at the end of my MBA. And I promise you something, I’ve learned more about marketing from my side job than I ever have from a classroom.”
“How close are you to your undergraduate?”
He shakes his head. “I’m almost finished with the first year of my graduate program.”
Omar and I look at each other and stare back at this little thing. “How?”
“Advanced placement courses, duh. I was more than halfway to my undergraduate when I walked the stage in high school.”
“What’s your area of concentration?”
“Entrepreneurship.”
“Of course.”
“What kind of business do you want to run?”
“I have a few ideas.”
His answer is defensive, but he’s telling the truth. I catch Omar’s attention, and he shrugs as if to say, “Your move.”
Grabbing my phone, I pull up Contacts. “What’s your name and number?” I ask, deciding on the direct route.
“Samuel,” he says and follows this with his number.
He grabs his phone, and I text my contact information to him.
“Look, Samuel, we’re in the middle of something, but I’m going to check in on you. And you’re welcome to keep in touch with me.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he says sarcastically, even as he carefully tucks his phone away.
“If you get in any kind of trouble, call that number. I’ll have someone out here within a few hours.”
He blows me a kiss, then disappears into the shadows.
Omar finishes his business, and we head back to the car. He takes back the driver’s seat, a thoughtful look on his face. He turns, and for the first time since Buc-ee’s, really looks at me.
“You’re going to try and save him, aren’t you?”
“And you’re not?” I ask, grinning as I pull on my seat belt.
He gestures, tilting his hand from side to side, his lips indecisive about their desire to smile. “Fair point. I suppose it’s important to do some work on this side of the equation.”
“Exactly. It can’t all be killing scumbags, you know?” I say, glad we’re inching our way back to neutral territory.
Omar shakes his head, still holding back a smile as he eases back onto the highway. “You’re not right in the head. It’s not normal that you like your work so much.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us have your Vulcan sensibilities,” I joke, elbowing him softly.
I freeze for a second, not wanting him to think I’m trying to get anything from him. His soft chuckle makes me think maybe I haven’t ruined my chance.
Omar’s gaze is wistful as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Yeah, well. Those sensibilities failed me pretty badly on Halloween, didn’t they?”
