Page 114 of Wayfarers

“Don’t, dude. They’re bikers.”

“They’re dentists.”

“They look like bikers.”

“That’s how I know they’re dentists.”

“Just let it drop, please, and let’s go. I’m fine.”

I ignore her and start toward the men.

“Knox!” Sylvie calls after me.

I ignore her again, walking fast, and approach the men. “Hey,” I call.

They look up from their conversation. “Help you with something?” Non-bandanna man asks.

My heart is revving and I’m afraid that when I speak my nerves will betray me. “Hey, guys, my lady friend back there says y’all might have been filming her while she was walking her dog. I was wondering if y’all would delete whatever you recorded.” Lady friend?

Bandanna man scoffs. “I think your little lady friend—whoever she is—is mistaken, chief.”

Blood surges in my ears and at the base of my skull. “Thing is, I don’t think she’s wrong. She seemed pretty sure and she wouldn’t lie about it.”

“Not saying she’s lying,” Bandanna man says. “I’m saying maybe she’s so used to thinking she’s a sweet little blond dime piece she just assumes the whole world is her personal paparazzi.”

“See, a second ago, you were acting like you had no idea who I was talking about, but I never said she’s blond.”

“Oh what, we got Inspector Columbo here? You caught me red-handed, I confess.” He fake blubbers and raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender and he and his companion chortle.

I wait for them to finish. “It means you remember her, which makes me think she’s right about what she saw.”

“If you’re calling me a liar, you may wanna rethink that, big man.”

“I’m not calling you anything. I’m asking you to be cool and delete the video. Please. It made her uncomfortable.”

“Maybe you’re making us uncomfortable with your accusations,” Non-bandanna man says. He and his friend stare hard at me.

For a second none of us say anything, but I don’t retreat.

Finally, Bandanna man says, “Say we did take a video of the area because we’re documenting our ride and she happened to be in it. What you gonna do about it? Work us both over with your good arm?” Both men laugh. Bandanna man hawks and spits on the asphalt in front of me.

“No,” I say quietly. “Here’s what I will do though. I’ve memorized both your license plates while we were chatting here and as soon as we part ways, I’m going to look them up. There’ll be information about you attached to them. Then I’m going to track down your wives—you’re both wearing wedding bands—and I’m going to contact them. Maybe at their jobs if they have them. And I’ll tell them to check your phones for a video from a rest stop in Illinois of a random pretty blond girl walking a golden retriever. I’m guessing there’s some zooms you wouldn’t want them to see. If you have kids, I’m going to find them and tell them too. Maybe your jobs and coworkers. I’ll tell them today’s date so they know I’m not lying. So yeah, I won’t be working you over with my good arm. I’ll be using my good thumb.”

As I speak, the smirks fade from their faces, replaced by reddening and scowls.

“Big talk,” Bandanna man sputters.

“Try me.”

Bandanna man yanks his phone from his vest pocket, almost dropping it. With a sneer, he opens a video and waves it in my face. “Look, jerkoff. See? See me deleting it? There you go. Tell your little girlfriend not to walk where people are filming.” He makes an exaggerated show of deleting the video. I saw enough to see Sylvie squarely centered in frame.

“From the trash too.” Two days ago I wouldn’t have known to check that.

Bandanna man shows me him emptying his camera roll’s trash. “There. Now you better move along before I delete something else.”

I turn and start to leave.

Bandanna man calls after me. “Hey, tough guy, I hear a word of blowback about this, I’m tracking you down and I’ll make you regret it.”