return to episode 5





“Because his old man is connected—” 

“—in the shipping business.” 

“—in the shipping business.” 


“And this was your once in a lifetime.” 

Robin nodded. “You gonna remember all that?” 

Minny wiped away a tear. “Oh, Junebug. I could cry, I envy you so much.” 

“But you can’t breathe a word of that other stuff to nobody.” 

Minny made a face. “Silly. Who would I tell? You the Queen of Invention! You'll rock ’em another dimension!” 

Robin pinched herself to prove it wasn’t a dream. “You just wait. I’ll send someone for you sooner than you think.” 

“I know you will, hon.” 

“And there’ll be no looking back.” 



Robin didn't bother to warn him she was gonna be late. Finny never answered anyway. Didn’t have the coin to top up a phone card. 



The old man shrugged. “Lotsa young bucks come rollin’ through here.” He pointed to a gangster in a leather vest, wheels screaming around the corner. “That ain’t him, is it?” 



I knew there’d be a phone in the kitchen, with a long, twisted cord and a rotary dial mounted to the wall (on the off chance I wanted to order out). 



The old man shrugged. “Lotsa young bucks come rollin’ through here.” 

Robin was bent over the display case on the hood of his car. Bits of silver glittered against the black velvet lining. 

“See somethin’ you like?” He asked from the passenger seat.  

Robin nodded at the coin jar on the dashboard. “What’s that? For tips or something?” 

“That’s merchandise,” he explained. “Been collectin’ it all these years. Go ahead, pick one out. See how it feels in your heart. One could be lucky; you never know.”  

Robin looked at him doubtfully.  

The old man reached into his pocket. “See here? That's my bottom dollar.” He held the coin out for inspection. “What year does it say?” 

“Tell me.” 

“It says the year of my birth.” 

Robin shrugged. “That supposed to mean something?” 

“Means I oughta hang on to it, till I got somethin' to take its place.” 

Robin frowned. “I never heard that one before.” 

“You see how smoothed it is? Been rubbin’ around my pocket for that much of a lifetime." The old man put the coin away. "You never know when you gonna hit your last.” 

Robin glanced at the jar.  

“Nothin’s ever for certain,” he warned.  



Robin gave the old man 66 cents for the ‘92 nickel she found at the bottom of his jar. 



“I bet that’s your ticket right there,” he predicted. 



I might have figured wrong about finding money stashed away. But god damn if there wasn’t a Coupe de Ville sitting in the old bird’s garage! And the night still had plenty in the tank. 




return to prologue