Travis Kasperbauer smoked all the time.
He smoked when he was bored. He smoked when he was angry. He smoked when he woke up in the mornings. He smoked when he was feeling uninspired. He smoked when he was sad. He smoked when he couldn’t sleep. He smoked when he was stressed. He smoked when he was hungry. He smoked when he was cold.
Most of all, though, Travis smoked when he was anxious.

He had been chain smoking outside of Casa de Waffles for nearly half an hour. He had already gone through eight cigarettes, and was about to light up his ninth when Missy gave him the look.
“Okay. I think you’ve had enough,” she said as though he was consuming whiskey rather than smoke.
Travis stared down at the little stick of tobacco in his hand. He knew he was just stalling. He kept trying to imagine what he would do if he saw the man who attacked him, but he genuinely had no clue.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said softly.
“Don’t be a pussy,” said Missy. “He may not be there. Hell, he may not even be your guy. But you have to know for sure, right?”
Travis nodded, sliding the cigarette behind his ear for safekeeping.
“Fine,” he sighed.

It was about noon, just in time for the lunch rush, so the place was packed. As Travis scanned the room for his attacker, a familiar voice called his name.
“Travis Kasperbuer. What are you, a smoker now?”
He followed the voice to a nearby booth where Bridget sat with some guy he didn’t recognize.
“Yeah I guess,” he replied, still surveying the restaurant.
“That’s hot,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Where’d you run off to yesterday? We were having such a good conversation,” she said with a sort of pouty-face.
“Were we?” Travis asked. He genuinely didn’t remember speaking to her.
Missy snorted a little laugh.
“Missy. How good to see you,” Bridget said flatly.
“Likewise,” Missy replied. “And who is this?” She motioned at the man sitting next to Bridget.
“Oh. This is Mike. He’s a graphic design major. Mike, these are my friends Missy and Travis.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mike nodded.
Then Travis saw her. The woman who made a scene when that bus stalled out on Poplar a few months ago. Two enormous, gold door knocker earrings hung from her ears, just like Kindra described.
“Shaniqua,” he whispered.
“What?” Mike asked, confused.
“Who?” Bridget said.
“Is that her?” Missy asked, following his gaze.
Travis nodded and walked away. Missy followed.
“Seriously?” Bridget said. “Again?”

Travis took a seat at the counter. Missy sat beside him.
Shaniqua passed by them at least three times before Travis found the courage to speak to her.
“What can I do you for?” She asked once he finally flagged her down.
“Weird question,” he said pulling his sketchbook from his backpack. “Do you recognize this man?” He held up one of his lighter, less disturbing sketches.
Shaniqua squinted at the picture for a second and then nodded confidently.
“Yeah, I know him. That’s James, James Reid. He works in the kitchen. Why?”
Travis shot Missy a nervous look. “Is he here? Could I speak to him please?”
“Sure thing.” Shaniqua smiled and walked into the kitchen. A few moments later, she opened the door, pointed to Travis, and continued with her duties.
The man, who actually looked more like a boy now that his face was fully visible, approached the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. When he looked up, he froze.
Neither he or Travis spoke for a while, so Missy, of course, took the liberty to start the conversation herself.
“Hi. You don’t know me, but I think you may know my friend, here. His name is Travis and I’m pretty sure you beat the shit out of him twice in the same day a few months ago. Correct me if I’m wrong,” she began. “I also think you may have something to do with the kidnapping of a little orphan girl. Laney, is it?”
Travis nodded, still locked in a stare-down with James.
“Anyway, James, Travis has had a really rough time since then. He gets these killer headaches pretty often and has terrible nightmares almost every night. Were you aware that you gave him a concussion? You must have hit him pretty fuckin’ hard. Then there’s the sprained wrist and dislocated shoulder, but we can address those later. At least all of the bruises and scratches have healed.” Missy leaned back in her bar stool and sighed.
“So here’s the thing: you can either turn yourself in to the police for kidnapping and assault–maybe if you plead guilty your sentence won’t be too long–or you can do nothing and wait for the cops to show up at your house with a warrant for your arrest. It’s completely up to you.”
James stood paralyzed before them looking so much smaller and weaker than Travis remembered. Maybe it was the change in environment or attire. Maybe Travis just imaged him bigger and more ominous. Regardless, the terrified look on his face almost made Travis feel bad for him.
“Please,” said James. “Let me explain.”
Missy nodded, giving him a look that said ‘I’m waiting.’
“...let me explain somewhere less crowded,” he clarified.
Travis and Missy agreed and followed James around to the side of the building. Travis half expected him to whip out a gun and blow their brains out, but no such gun appeared.
Instead, James leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He looked like he was trying to phrase something in his head but it wasn’t sounding right. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Laney is my sister,” he said.
Travis’s jaw actually dropped.
“I was just released from juvi about five months ago. Now that I’m 18, I don’t have to go back to that godforsaken orphanage, but I couldn’t just leave Laney there,” he said. “I had to get her out. She’s better off with me anyway, I’m the only family she’s got left––”
“Wait wait wait wait,” Missy interrupted. “Why were you in prison?”
James sighed. “I was fifteen. I was stupid...” he began. Missy rolled her eyes. “I tried to rob Ray’s Liquor store down on Sobchack Street. I just wanted to get some money so Laney and I could run away, but...” he trailed off.
“But you got caught,” Travis said.
“Right,” James nodded, staring down at his hands. Travis could hear the shame in his voice.
Then he looked up at Travis with those piercing light brown eyes. He didn’t need to say anything–his expression said it all–but he went on anyway.
“I’m so sorry for... for attacking you, I guess. For everything,” he confessed. “I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t let anyone find out about Laney. I had to make it look like she really disappeared. I didn’t think anyone would try all that hard to find her.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think anybody cared.”
Travis looked away. It occurred to him that he never actually knew Laney, that he got involved with her disappearance more for himself than for her. He recognized that he had been so bored with his life that he would have done just about anything to stray from his daily routine, to experience something new. Laney’s disappearance was the perfect opportunity.
“Wait a second,” Missy said, interrupting Travis’s thoughts. “Where is Laney now?”
James sighed. “In the shed behind the old sawmill theater, where you found me” he looked at Travis. Before anyone could react, he continued. “I know, she’s way too young to be by herself like that, but I don’t have any other options. As soon as I get some money saved up, we’re out of here. We’ll go some place where she won’t have to hide in a locked shed all day, some place with a real school for her to go to with real, teachers, not a bunch of crazy nuns.” He looked almost like he was in pain as he spoke. “You’ve got to understand, I hate that it’s like this for her. She was only three when I got arrested, so she barely knows me. This is going to be her first memory of me.”