Though Steven belonged to AAA, he didn’t know the number for assistance off the top of his head. It was programmed into his cell phone—the third number on speed dial, after the voicemail and Carlos’s line. He thought maybe he might have a card in his wallet somewhere with his membership information on it, but a quick search by the dim light of the stars above turned up nothing. “Damn it,” he cursed, riffling a second time through the stack of cards he carried with him…cards that were little help now. His driver’s license, his bank card, his Visa, a handful of store credit cards he rarely used, a couple business cards for restaurants he favored, an old card from his dentist reminding him of a six month check-up some time last year, a well-worn condom packet he’d forgotten all about, even a
