Concerning The Rest Stop

   Shadows falling, rising, bobbing to footfalls. Three men overtook him. “Hey man, long time no see!”
  Taylor stopped, looked at them blankly.
  The cheerful one had ratty brown hair, that I-don’t-care-about-much-never-mind-my-hundred-dollar-haircut look. “Where you going, man?”
  “Salvation,” Taylor said.
  “Listen, Eric, we need to talk, man.”
  “Fuck Eric.”
  The orthadontal smile fell. “What?”
  “I’m not Eric. We just look alike, and Eric can fucking take care of his own shit now.”
  “Excuse me?”
  “No Eric. Just me.”
  The haircut turned to one of the others. “Reeve. Is this who you dealt with or not?”
  “Yeah. Little scruffier now, maybe.”
  “So what’s your game, mister?”
  Taylor sighed. “Look, I don’t care if Brutus here believes I’m Santa Claus, alright? We just look alike, and I’m not here to clean up after him.”
  “Heart-rending. We, however, are, so if you’d be kind enough to either produce my money or my merchandise, I’ve other things to do today, right?”
  “Told you. Not Eric. Don’t have your junk, man.”
  The hair swished as the head bent toward the ground. “Look, this is a serious career, okay? I can’t let any exceptions, else the whole thing crumbles, you understand? So what’s it gonna be?”