You and me, we'll be sitting at a restaurant with a large group of people, mutual friends. Somebody will mention something about music and somehow someway you'll say the name Junior Kimbrough. Twenty people at the table just talking and I will notice you. Later as we're all leaving I will catch you by the hand and whisper in your ear, Hey, I know somebody. You wanna see a juke joint?
Yeah, you'll say.
I'll set it up.
We won't be able to find a pen, nobody will have a pen so we will ask the hostess and use a napkin for your number. I'm holding you to this, you will say.
Okay, I'll say and then be proud of myself for neglecting to give you my number.
It'll take me two weeks before I call you. It will be after I decide you're not a serial killer. Wait, no. It'll be after I decide if you are a serial killer it's okay if I die. Also after I've asked some of our mutual friends the very important, Do you think he's ever killed anyone? question. It only took one Dean Koontz novel.
After I decide our friends don't know you killed someone I will call you and after you pick up I'll say, Hey.
I don't know if you remember me but not long ago I said I could take you to a juke joint? I will be nervous so it will be a question.
Yeah, I remember that, you will say. What took you so long?
I have some friends with the FBI. I had 'em check you out.
You will laugh but I won't.
Saturday at eight o'clock. I'll meet you at the gas station by the interstate.
Which one? You will ask all serious now.
The big one with the green sign, I'll smile but you won't see. See ya' then. Bye.
To be continued.
I don't know how but I think we're going somewhere with this.
Tonight I am grateful for journeys we never planned.