Two teenagers beneath a sign that advertisedLottery And Live Baitturned to look at him. One was working the register and the other, a tall young man wearing a banana-yellow hoodie, seemed to be there just to keep the other company.
“Evening,” the Banana said. “Need something?”
His friend behind the register gave Green a deadpan stare while his hands mechanically shuffled a deck of playing cards.
“Some interesting moths out there,” Green said. He winced internally. Somehow, in the twenty-four hours since he had last spoken to a person, he had forgotten the trick of it.
The Banana frowned, looked toward the storefront, then tapped the counter just above a taped-up handwritten sign that read “Please No Moth Talk Inside The Station.”
“Oh…um…sorry.”
The Banana shrugged.
“We got a complicated history with entomology here. Plus, ya know, the tax implications. Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have known.”
“Right. Sorry again.”
Green hesitated.
“Alright, man. Do-over. What can we help you with?”
“I need thirty dollars on pump three.”
The quiet one tapped his deck on the counter with a sharpclick, click,and the Banana looked at him.
“Oh, yeah, fine. He wants you to think of a card, man,” the Banana said.
“Think of a card?”
“Yeah, just think of one. Got the picture in your head?”
Green nodded.
King of clubs.
The quiet one flipped a two of clubs out of the deck and displayed it.
“That it?” the Banana asked.
“Uh, no,” Green said.
The quiet one sighed and went back to shuffling. The Banana patted his shoulder.
“It’ll work one of these times. Got to. Law of chance. The universe owes you one.”
The Banana leaned toward Green and spoke in confidential tones.
“He really wants to show off other card tricks, but says he can’t until he pulls off that one at least once. I don’t know why. Do you?”
Green shook his head.
“Yeah. Thought not. The ways of gas station magicians are not for us to understand.”
Green laid his cash on the counter and watched as the quiet one switched to a one-handed shuffle, cutting and recutting the deck while working the register.
“Alright, thirty dollars on three. You’re golden.”
Green faltered, then surrendered to the relief he felt from electric lights and human company.
