[jazz music plays slowly, seductively over a muffled radio, filled with static. curtain rises]

i-i

Days are long and hot and boring. Miles of desert. A fly committing suicide in a cup of coffee. The tired customer drinking it anyway. Within this dull, baked setting is a little diner, part of a slightly larger strip mall just off the highway.

A beautiful young girl is the only waitress, her red hair tied behind her head in a bun and her body covered in a sack-like pink uniform with a frilly apron. She eases the coffee pot away from the burner and goes to the man drinking the fly-coffee.

"May I get you another cup of coffee, sir?" Bella asks, smiling her best smile. He looks up, dead-eyed. Just like everyone in West Dallas. She thinks.

"No, thanks. But I've heard that there's somethin' else I can get here…"

Not from Bella. She knows that Louise and Bonnie give handjobs in the bathroom for 20 bucks a pop when they're on duty, but she's not in on it. Sighing, she figures that she may as well join the business: in times like these, any money is good money.

"How much are you willing to pay?" she asks seductively. The man blinks. He wasn't expecting this.

"Uh… will you take an IOU?"

She scoffs and turns away, muttering, "Fuck off."

The little bell above the door rings and a hot wave crashes into the diner before the air conditioning fights it off. Bella replaces the smile on her face, the "I'm-from-texas-but-I'm-not-happy-about-it" one.

"Welcome to Blanche's diner! How may I—oh. Hi, Johnny."

A man in a police uniform weaves his way through checkered tables to the bar. He wrings his sweaty hat as he comes c loser. He's good-enough looking—he's got a chubby face with an ever-present 5-o-clock shadow and long, dark eyelashes around his eyes (as blue as a Texas sky). Not bad at all. But… he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He'd been in her grade back in high school, even though he was five years older. He dropped out just after she did, but he got his GED and joined the county police force. Just like every other nitwit in the world.

Bella immediately feels bad thinking that. Johnny may be the only nice man in the entirety of Dallas.

"How are you doing today?" she asks, replacing her dull grin with Her Smile, the one she thinks she could sell for a pretty penny. It makes her face and eyes light right up.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Alright. As well as a girl can be in this shit hole," Bella says with a laugh. Almost hesitantly, Johnny sits at the bar. Bella pours him a cup of coffee (plenty of creamer and sugar) as she always does. He takes a sip and she leans over on her elbows. "What do you think? Good enough to get me a brand new job at Starbucks?"

He blinks blankly. "The nearest Starbucks is ten miles away."

The smile falters on her face. "Right." Stupid man can't even get a joke…

"Anyway, Marty Baker is having a party on Friday. I hear there's gonna be three kegs. Any chance you could make it? And…" he stops and blushes. "maybe go with me?"

"I'll do my best."

Just then, Johnny's walkie talkie explodes in muffled gibberish. The only thing Bella can make out is: "Barrow".

"Sorry. I gotta go. Nice to see ya, Bella."

"You too, Johnny."

i-i

Even though no one has come through the doors since Johnny left, Bella's required to stick to her shift until ten. The moment the clock hand hits, she's out of the door and into the night—far cooler than the day.

Her rusty old car is the only one in the parking lot. The nearest light is flickering and she gets a sudden feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. This is it, she thinks, this is when a masked killer jumps me right before the opening credit plays.

She gets into her car as fast as she can and turns the key. However, the car doesn't start. Frantic and annoyed, she tries again, only for nothing to happen. She gets out and opens the car hood. Smoke clouds her vision and she coughs, stumbling away.

"Car trouble?" a voice asks her. Knowing that she's the only one around, Bella backs up to her smoking car.

"Who's there?"

"Calm down, darling." He approaches with his hands up out of the shadows. He being the most handsome man Bella has ever seen. Although… "man" might be a bit of a stretch. He looks her age, if not a year or two younger. A boy.

"Who the hell are you and where is your car?" she snaps, not about to let herself be swayed by a pretty face.

"I'm Connor. Connor Barrow. And I can fix your car for a simple price," he says with a smile to rival hers.

"And what might that price be?" Bella's still on guard, but she feels herself relaxing.

"Your name. And a ride to Toleco, if you don't mind," he says, moving to the car. He takes the crowbar from Bella and props the hood up, looking inside. He's discarded his shirt at some point, and Bella feels something stirring inside of her at the sight of his muscular, bare arms.

It doesn't take five minutes for him to get the smoke to stop. "There. Fixed."

"Wow, you're really good with cars," she says, for lack of anything else to say. He smiles back—a quirky, charming grin. She's never seen the likes of it.

"They were my one source of joy in childhood. And now, I believe I was promised a name from the beautiful lady?"

"Isabella Parker. But you can call me Bella." She reaches out her hand, and when he takes it she can't help but smile. He smells like motor oil and grease, and his brown eyes reflect the moon's glow in the dark. She's always liked brown eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a million-dollar smile?"

"Why yes," Bella agrees. There's no point being humble. "Yes they have."

"I'll make sure to remember that smile when I get out of here," he laughs, letting go of her hand. He pulls a cigarette out of his pants (several sizes too big for him) and holds out one to her. Bella's never been one for smoking, but she takes it anyway. With the air of someone who's done this a million times, Connor lights his cigarette off of something in her car engine and does the same for hers.

"What do you mean 'get out of here'?" Bella asks. "I've never heard of no one who got out of West Dallas."

She inhales, and it feels like there's the heat of a summer day inside her lungs.

"Well, I plan to be the first." He smirks. "I can't wait to get away, from this drought and the homeless and the hungry. I don't intend to waste my life around here. If I can pull three jobs a year, I'll be rich."

"Pull three jobs?" Bella exhales. Smoke against the moon and stars. "What does that mean?"

"What do you think?" He winks, undermining his suspicious words. "Just like Billy the Kid… Al Capone, Bonnie and Clyde… people will remember me."

"They were all criminals."

"And?" he says as if it's nothing. Bella thinks back to the static from Johnny's radio. She knows she heard "barrow". As in Connor Barrow? However, instead of suspicion or fear, she's filled with something else. Excitement. "You know," Connor says, "I can see you getting out of here, too."

"Me? Why?"

"Don't you think it's time that you lost that egg-stained apron and wore something made of Satin from some 5th avenue store? I can see you in a range rover with your own private chauffer. He'll drive you to your mansion in… New York? Los Angeles? Somewhere where all the stars live. Because, you and your million-dollar smile will become stars. You've got that 'it' girl look."

"Really? I like to dream I'll be a star, but—"

"You and I, we're wasted around here. We're too good for this fucking town. This world will remember me, I promise. You, too. You'll remember me too."

"Is that so?" Bella teases. The excitement grows and before she knows it, she's tossed her cigarette and she's pressing her mouth to his and it feels right like nothing has ever felt right before.

She pulls away. He's smiling again.

"So what do you say? A ride into town?"

She shoots him a smile of her own. "How 'bout a ride to my place instead?"