Nightrunners by Joe R. Lansdale Page A

suntan lotion was clutched in his hand like a blunt instrument—well, it was a thought.
    "Pardon me," he repeated. "Someone tell you a good joke?"
    "Unnuh," she said, and it just got out from behind her fingers before she exploded into hysterical laughter.
    "No, huh?"
    "... n ... no." Didn't she know it was impolite to drop to one knee laughing?
    "No?"
    She took a deep breath, stood. "Just saw a good joke."
    "Nice."
    "Are you always so clumsy?"
    "Mostly just when I'm trying to impress good-looking women."
    "I'm impressed."
    "I can see that. Works every time."
    "I see. You see an attractive woman and you fall down?"
    "It's a killer, isn't it?"
    "Have you thought about using leg braces when you go girl watching?"
    "The braces rust in this salt air."
    "So you don't think leg braces would solve the problem?"
    "Speaking of legs, that's certainly a nice pair you use to carry you around."
    "Oh, so it's my legs you noticed, nothing else?"
    "How can I tell you I like your brain when we haven't even met. All I know is what I see, and I like that. But maybe I'll find out you're not too bright and that you have disgusting bathroom habits."
    "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about finding out much."
    "Uh-oh, hurt your feelings. I'm just saying I'd like to find out if you're . . . smart."
    "I'm smart enough to see where this is going. And that's what I'm doing, going."
    "Guess I said something wrong, showed my ass?"
    "Yes, you have—in more ways than one. And it's very white and not very good-looking. I think I saw pimples on it."
    "You did see . . . ?"
    "It was hard to miss."
    "Look, I was just trying to impress you— "You have, all right. Go fish for your radio."
    "Look, look, don't walk off. I fell. You saw my ass, and then I tried to impress you with my suave recovery, and I was doing okay until I had a male chauvinistic relapse, the stuff about your legs. But I mean . . . you wouldn't wear that if you didn't want men to look . . . shit."
    "Open mouth, insert other foot." She bent to pick up a large blue towel from the beach.
    "That yours?" he said, and immediately regretted it.
    "No, I steal these when I come across them. Sew them together and they make fabulous bedspreads, great Christmas gifts."
    "I don't seem to be doing so good."
    "No, you don't." She began walking away.
    "Hey," he said, bounding after her, "you can't walk away like that."
    "Oh no, here I go."
    "You can't do that. Don't walk away like that."
    She turned a furious face on him, slung the towel over her shoulder. "How about like this?" And she began taking long, ridiculous strides.
    Montgomery couldn't help himself. He began to laugh.
    She went a few more steps, turned with her hands on her hips, then she laughed.
    "Hey, you," she said, "walk this way," and she started off across the sand taking those ridiculous strides, and Montgomery followed mocking her walk, and pretty soon they were side by side laughing.
    They stopped walking.
    "Look," Montgomery said, "I'm sorry. Let's start over."
    "All right."
    "My, but don't I know you from somewhere?"
    "No. My name is Becky Shiner."
    "And my name is Montgomery Jones."
    "Have you considered changing it?"
    "Often."
    "That's one of the worst names I've ever heard."
    "Not quite. The middle name is Buford."
    "You're pulling my leg?"
    "I wish I were . . . shit."
    "Maybe later."
    "Yeah?"
    "Down boy."
    "Sorry."
    "Montgomery Buford Jones. Hummm. God, that's awful! Are you a second or a junior?"
    "Actually, I'm a junior, but forget that."
    "Montgomery Buford Jones, Jr—"
    "You're not forgetting."
    "—will you buy me a hot dog?"
    "You kidding? I'll rob the goddamned stand if you want me to."
    "I'll settle for you buying me a hot dog. We'll knock over a filling station later."
    Not long after, Montgomery got money from the glove box of his car. They bought and ate hot dogs, they walked along the beach holding hands, and talked until the sun pooped out and the moon checked in. They discussed everything. Politics.