“Something else, brother?”
“I could use some advice,” Green said.
The Banana pressed his lips into a line, then pulled a spiral notebook from his hoodie pocket. He flipped to a blank page like he was about to take notes, but he didn’t have a pen.
“Okay, man. Shoot.”
Green dipped into his pocket to clutch his acorn.
“Well, I’m looking for a campground.”
“Like, the state park? Bro, you’re on the wrong road for that.”
Green frowned. Why hadn’t he gone to the state park?
Because that’s a place people go for a visit. I’m not a visitor. I’m something else.
“Not exactly. I want to find somewhere that’s a little more long-term. I’m looking to stay awhile.”
“Yeah? Maybe you should be visiting a realtor instead of a campground.”
“Fair, but I’m not looking to own property. I’m looking for a camp that’s friendly to the idea of semi-permanent residents. If there is such a thing.”
“Yeah, bro, ain’t we all semi-permanent residents?”
The Banana looked out the window. Green followed his gaze, but he could barely see anything beyond the moths he wasn’t allowed to mention.
“You gonna live in that car?”
“I’ve got camping gear. And I’ll figure out the rest when I get there.”
“Uh-huh. Alright. Respect.”
The Banana exchanged an unreadable look with his friend behind the counter.
“We got a brochure rack of attractions and parks. Boy Scout camps and boat rentals. Cabins. That kinda shit.”
He shrugged toward a wire carousel rack near an out-of-order ATM.
“But that rack is for tourists. The for-real one is in the back. Go through the door by the beer cooler. We’ll hit the button that unlocks it.”
The Banana nodded at his silent friend, who paused his card shuffling to pantomime extending his button-pushing finger and sending it through a wide, slow arc until it touched the featureless counter. There was no button.
The Banana said, “Click,” then grinned like a fox.
Green suspected he was being mocked, but his nerves told him to swallow his annoyance and play along.
“Thanks. I’ll check it out.”
He headed to the back, expecting to find nothing. Instead, he spotted the door by the beer cooler. It was only two feet wide and covered with yellow wallpaper depicting looping knotwork and swans with pronounced, angry eyebrows slanting down over black pits for eyes. It was unlocked and Green slid through the narrow opening into a perfectly round room the size of a bathroom stall.
A naked lightbulb hung from the ceiling. He could feel its heat on his scalp. An intense, artificial coconut smell with no visible source filled the space. The brochure rack stood in the center.
Green spun the rack and read the titles.
Ghost Stone: See the Most Haunted Rock on Earth
Harker’s Black Bear Sanctuary and Massage Therapy Center
