The Passenger Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the eighties, and scuffed brown wingtips. I could feel his eyes on me when I sat down, but then I saw him turn back to his drink. My military jacket was doing its job, I thought.
    â€œWhat’ll it be?” the woman behind the bar asked.
    What does Amelia Keen drink? Tanya drank beer or bourbon. That wouldn’t do.
    â€œGin and tonic, please.”
    â€œAny gin preference?”
    In time I ought to cultivate a preference, I thought. But I hadn’t done so yet.
    â€œSurprise me,” I said.
    â€œYou don’t want the well,” she said, as if sizing me up.
    â€œNo,” I said. What’s the point in starting at the bottom? You always have time to land there.
    â€œBombay?”
    â€œSure.”
    She had a heavy pour, which would be nice if I liked gin, but the drink was too strong and tasted like it might have some medicinal properties. I drank it, though, trying to convince my taste buds to transform.
    â€œBlue, can I get another?” Bad Suit asked, pointing at his empty shot glass.
    I’m guessing he called her “Blue” because she had astonishing ice-blue eyes. They were unadorned by cosmetics, as if she were trying to hide them. Unsuccessfully. In fact, her only nod at vanity was a mild cherry stain on her lips. She wore her thick blond hair in a severe braid down her back. In an occupation where tips can be directly linked to your physical attributes, Blue seemed decidedly resistant to pulling in some extra cash.
    The overhead television had the news on mute, which was interrupted by a commercial for some kind of fancy car.
    â€œIf I was a millionaire, that’s the first thing I would buy,” Bad Suit said to Blue, maybe to me, maybe to no one in particular.
    â€œâ€‰â€˜If I were a millionaire,’ ” Blue said. “You need to use the subjunctive when you’re speaking of hypothetical situations.”
    â€œWhy are you always telling me how to talk?” Bad Suit asked.
    â€œI’m simply encouraging respect for the English language,” Blue said.
    â€œI respect the hell out of it,” Bad Suit said. “But if you’re so keen on doling out lesson plans all day long, why don’t you become a schoolteacher?”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” Blue said, with a sharp edge in her voice.
    I opened the circular and began looking at job listings. I wasn’t qualified for anything. I didn’t even understand some of the criteria. What the hell was Quark? I knew how to use a computer, sort of. I took typing in high school. I got a C-plus, and I doubted my skills had improved since then. I didn’t have much cash left after buying the Toyota, just under two grand. Apartment, furniture, new clothes, food. How long until the money ran out?
    Bad Suit eventually turned to me, hoping for less educational conversation, I guess. “You new in town?” he said.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œWhere you from? Pardon me. Where do you hail from?”
    â€œOklahoma.”
    â€œI got people there. Whereabouts?”
    â€œNorman.”
    â€œWhat did you do there?”
    â€œNothing much.”
    â€œWhat brings you to Austin?” Bad Suit asked.
    â€œDennis, you ask too many questions,” Blue said.
    â€œI’m making conversation,” Dennis said.
    â€œMaybe this lady does not want to converse. Did that ever occur to you?”
    â€œNo. In fact, it did not. My apologies,” Dennis said with a polite nod. “I had a rough day and I was merely seeking friendly conversation.”
    â€œYou can talk to me, Dennis.”
    â€œYou don’t like to talk, Blue. Everybody knows that.”
    â€œBut I listen,” she said.
    Blue lifted two shot glasses from behind the bar and plucked a bottle of high-shelf bourbon. She poured two shots and slid one in front of Dennis.
    Dennis’s and Blue’s glasses met in the middle.
    Dennis said, “To Margaret Rose Todd, may that