"Gee, what an amazing truck stop this is," mused Billy as he looked at the bills collecting in his guitar case. "Here it is in the middle of the night, raining like hell, and I've been warming up for five minutes and I've already made more than I ever made in front of Macy's in San Francisco...maybe they're trying to impress this girl."

Billy looked at the girl sitting in front of him on the fender of her little Miata. When she drove up, he remembered, she had been looking into the cafe as if she were meeting someone, but the minute she saw him she had turned her car into the slot right in front of him, despite the fact that she could have parked closer to the door, or at least a little farther from the rain. She was covered by the overhang, so wasn't directly under the weeping skies, but her car was wet and rain was streaming down the windshield and the hood, so her butt under those designer jeans had to be soaked.

He stopped playing the blues and started an old Hank Williams tune, this time playing in A: "Hey, good lookin", whatcha got cookin'? Howzabout cookin' something up with me." He became aware of another presence beside him, but went on with the song, "Hey, sweet baby, doncha think maybe..." He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up and the biggest, meanest looking cop he'd ever seen...