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“A bad Travolta festival. That is pretty bad.”

“Too bad?”

“Not with the right people.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I get up and so does Janet.

She says, “Can I come to your movie night?”

“I didn’t say I was doing it. It’s just something I’m thinking about.”

“Do you like drive-ins?”

“In fact, I’ve had some very intense times at drive-ins.”

She fans herself like she’s scandalized.

“Really?”

“Not like that.”

“The Devil’s Door is having a seventies festival.”

“I heard about that.”

“I’ll remind you the next time you come in.”

“Next time.”

“Aha,” she says. “Then there is a next time.”

“I mean, I come in all the time.”

Janet puts her donuts in a bag.

“Sure, sure. That’s what you meant.”

I nod at the door.

“I should go.”

Janet points over my shoulder.

“Look at those guys,” she says.

When I turn, I feel her put something in my hand. The two guys, however, just sit there.

When I look back for Janet, she’s gone. And she slipped me a piece of paper with her phone number. Nicely done. She has some disappearing tricks too. I start to throw her

number away, but after a moment’s hesitation I put it in my pocket instead.

Maybe I’ll have a movie night after all.

Or maybe steal a car and go to Flicker’s. Not with anyone necessarily. But maybe. Who knows?

I walk down Hollywood Boulevard in the morning sun for a couple of blocks.