A slower song comes through on the sound system, one with a deep bass and some slamming percussion. I take it as my cue. I push my glasses up and pull down my cap.
Blend, be invisible, no one remembers you. No one can place your face.
I make my way toward the pool tables. A few games are already starting. With a practiced eye, I choose the one I want to join. I pull a ten out and slap it on the table.
“Friendly wager for winner?” I husk up my voice. It’s harder to pull off a genuine guy voice. Easier to pull off a gravelly whisper. When pushed, I’ve been known to pull the whole speech impediment thing, which always puts an end to the questions.
The two guys playing, both truckers by the look of them, are young and dumb enough to think driving a semi for fourteen hours a day and spen
