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"I'm going to Georgia," she said. "It's a long way."
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"Mm," she said. "What's your name?"
"They call me Mack," said Mr,http://www.rolexsubmarinerreplicausa.com/. Town. When he was talking to women in bars, he would sometimes follow that up with "And the ones that know me really well call me Big Mack." That could wait. With a long drive ahead of them, they would have many hours in each other's company to get to know each other. "What's yours?"
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***
The fat kid found Mr. World in the Rainbow Room-a walled section of the path, its window glass covered in clear plastic sheets of green and red and yellow film. He was walking impatiently from window to window, staring out, in turn, at a golden world, a red world, a green world. His hair was reddish-orange and close-cropped to his skull. He wore a Burberry raincoat.
The fat kid coughed. Mr. World looked up.
"Excuse me? Mister World?"
"Yes? Is everything on schedule?"
The fat kid's mouth was dry. He licked his lips, and said, "I've set up everything. I don't have confirmation on the choppers."
"The helicopters will be here when we need them."
"Good," said the fat kid. "Good." He stood there, not saying anything, not going away. There was a bruise on his forehead.
After a while Mr. World said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
A pause. The boy swallowed and nodded. "Something else," he said. "Yes."
"Would you feel more comfortable discussing it in private?"
The boy nodded again.
Mr. World walked with the kid back to his operations center: a damp cave containing a diorama of drunken pixies making moonshine with a still. A sign outside warned tourists away during renovations. The two men sat down on plastic chairs.
"How can I help you?" asked Mr. World.
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