Anonymity by Janna McMahan Page A

with a metallic thud. She wiggled up onto a countertop and began fishing for pickles with a giant serving fork.
    “Pickle?” she asked, holding out the big fork with one skewered to the end.
    Lorelei grabbed it and crunched it down in three bites.
    Angel slapped a slab of butter into a frying pan. He chattered on about his new baby, pointing with a spatula to a photo of his wife and baby girl. There was another of his whole family—Angel, his wife, their baby and both of their sons.
    Lorelei studied the photos with genuine interest, but her eyes kept drifting back to the frying pan.
    Angel slipped the toasty sandwiches onto a plate and cut each in half. He piled the plates high with salty potato chips. Emily poured glasses of OJ. Angel crammed his mouth full and patted his stomach.
    “Cochino,” Tino said, and snickered.
    “I know, I know,” Angel said rubbing his round gut. He winked at Lorelei. “He just called me a pig.”
    She smiled again and ate as if she hadn't eaten in a week.
    “Lorelei, I like that name. She's a superhero. Right?” Angel asked.
    She stopped eating for a second. “Wow, how'd you know that?” she asked, her mouth full of bread and cheese.
    “Yeah, how did you know that?” Emily asked.
    “I have teenage sons. They read comic books. I like them too,” Angel said. “And tattoos.” He pushed up his sleeves, revealing tats on his forearms. One was a snapping banner that read, Familia , another the Atlante team brand emblazoned across a soccer ball. A small scroll on the inside of his arm read Easy Does It. Another was Speedy Gonzales, his floppy feet accelerating, air puffs shooting out behind him.
    Lorelei touched the cartoon. “Why do you have that?”
    “Because I'm the fastest cook in Austin.”
    She studied his work but didn't offer to elaborate on her own ink.
    Tino scrubbed the skillet Angel had used, then pulled the plug. Water gurgled and burped down the drain.
    “So, where you going to stay tonight?” Emily asked. “It's supposed to turn cold.”
    Wrong move.
    “Don't worry about it,” Lorelei snapped in an icy voice.
    “I'm not worried. Just asking.”
    “Don't ask. I can take care of myself.”
    “Hey, I'm not gonna hassle you.”
    “I gotta split.” Lorelei shoved the rest of her sandwich into her bag. She took the glass of juice with her.
    Emily followed her to the back door. The girl shoved outside and started down the alley.
    “You're welcome,” Emily called after her.
    “Whatever,” Lorelei said over her shoulder. Then she stopped and said, “Look, don't think this means we're friends or anything.”
    “Why would I think that?”
    “Because people think if they give you something that you owe them. I don't owe you anything.”
    “No. You don't owe me anything.”
    “I hate charity. Charity's never free.” She jerked her hood over her head, her breath a pale cloud in the alley's last light.

Lorelei
    SHE COULD have played the sympathy card and probably ended up couch surfing at Emily's. But Lorelei had reacted before she thought things through. Sometimes she had low impulse control, or so she'd been told.
    Now she would have to find a place to sleep. She scanned the unfamiliar street in this unfamiliar part of town. Town Lake was close, but she didn't know that terrain or who might be hanging there. While considering her options, the lights flickered out inside the bar. Lorelei watched from the shadows of an alley across the street as Emily, Angel and Tino came outside into the alley. Emily pushed a bike. They walked up to a rattletrap truck, one her father would have called a rice burner. Tino hefted the bike into the back. All three got into the little truck and drove away.
    Lorelei made her way back down the bar's alley and assessed the wooden fence. She'd been rock climbing, so the fence wouldn't ordinarily present a problem, but her hand was beginning to hurt again. She needed something to stand on.
    She walked to the dumpster, took a deep breath