His companion accepted a draft beer from the bartender. “You told him yet, Ross Ed?”

The laconic Texas shook his head. “Why don’t you tell him,

“Sure!” Turning, the younger man grinned at Siminowski. His clothes smelled of El Paso, but his breath reflected the recent application of expensive deodorizer. “Old Jed there, he’s an alien.”

“That’s right.” His slightly older companion slugged his beer. “An alien.”

“’Course, he’s dead,” added the one called Jimmy.

“I see.” Siminowski turned back to the bartender.

“That’s right, Waiter. Jed’s a dead alien.”

The two beer drinkers were enjoying themselves. “Ross Ed found him. Didn’t you, Ross Ed? Right by the side of the road.”

“Yeah,” chortled Jimmy. “Hitchhiking, wasn’t he?” He let out a hoot of self-satisfaction. “Pretty easy with three thumbs. ’Course, we don’t really know if he’s got thumbs.” The young professional turned back to the bartender. “How ’bout it, Ross Ed? Does Jed have thumbs?”

“I expect he does.” Ross moved slightly to his left to take an order from a waitress named Doreen. The room was starting to get crowded.

Siminowski took the opportunity to question the two regulars. “So you think it’s a dead alien, too?”

“Shoot,” declared the first man, “what else could it be?”

“I don’t know.” The salesman considered. “I’ve never seen a dead alien before.”

“Neither has anyone else, honey.” The waitress favored him with a professional smile before melting into the crowd with her order.

Siminowski knew he’d have to leave soon, too, or else he’d have to wait for a dinner table. Like most of his brethren, he avoided room service whenever he had enough time to do so. The predictability of it was mind-numbing.

“Well, I just wanted to know.”

“And now you do.” Jimmy slid off his stool and gave the stranger a friendly whack on the back. “He can do all sorts of tricks, Jed can isn’t that right, Ross Ed?”

The bartender replied without looking up from his work. “That’s right.”

“Make him dance.” Jimmy’s friend conducted the conversation with his beer. “C’mon, Ross Ed, make him dance!”

The big man seemed hesitant. “I dunno, Jimmy, it’s gettin’ kind of busy.”

“Please.” Siminowski was insistent. “That I’d like to see.”

“Well, okay.” Turning, Ross Ed picked up the strange figure and cradled its anterior region in the palm of his right hand, letting the spine lean against his arm. He handled it as if it weighed nothing. Using his left hand, he began to flip the three legs upward in rehearsed sequence, letting them flop freely. As he did so he whistled an accompaniment.

Siminowski stared intently for a moment, then his expression fell. He sensed himself blushing. One of the young professionals gave him a friendly nudge in the ribs. Both men were having a good laugh, largely at the gullible out-of-towner’s expense.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t he?” Jimmy chuckled. “A regular alien Fred Astaire.”

“Yeah.” An embarrassed Siminowski slid off his stool. “Yeah, that’s just great. Thanks for the show.” He turned to leave, his ears burning. He should’ve known better. No Texan would pass up a chance to make a fool of a visiting Yankee.

Jimmy called after him. “Hey, don’t you want to see him fly?” His companion was laughing hard enough to slosh beer on the floor.

Quietly, Ross Ed set Jed back in his niche on the back bar. It was Friday and the traffic wouldn’t let up until closing time. Businessmen just getting off work, professionals on their way home, soldiers from Fort Bliss out for the weekend, and folks on vacation would keep him running until the wee hours. He preferred it that way. It beat standing around cleaning glasses.

The first time one of the locals had asked him about Jed, Ross Ed had simply told the truth. The story quickly made the rounds among the regulars, and after that, they readily participated in what had become a prized local gag. The other bartenders and the waitresses went along. As usual, hotel management was oblivious.

Safe beneath Ross Ed’s protective gaze, the alien spent afternoons and evenings entertaining bar patrons and mornings and nights with Ross in the motel. When he went out on one of his sporadic, brief shopping trips Jed went with him, either in the passenger seat or on the floor in back. The system had worked fine for nearly two weeks. Another day or two, Ross Ed felt, and it would be time for him to give notice. He’d saved enough money, but he wasn’t the type to run out on management during a busy weekend.

They’d be sorry to lose him. Employers were always sorry to lose him. He did his job efficiently and quietly, and the one time he’d had to back up the regular bouncer the incident had been resolved without damage or bloodshed.

But he hadn’t come this far to spend months in another bar, another hotel. It was time to be on his way. The Rio Grande wasn’t the Pacific.

It was crowded even for a Friday night, perhaps due to the big UTEP—New Mexico State game on TV. Occasionally a portion of the now jostling crowd would emit a roar or groan as something significant played itself out on the overhead screens. Mark, the other night bartender, held down the opposite end of the bar. The two men worked well together, each tending capably to their own orders. Behind them Jed took it all in, silent witness to the exotic mass of surging humanity.

None of the waitresses or other bartenders touched Jed because Ross had explained that it was a new kind of kid’s space toy and that the electrical system kept shorting out. The result was the occasional nasty shock. It was an explanation readily accepted by his fellow workers, who kept their fingers well clear of the seated figure back of the bar. Not that they were much curious about it anyway.

A hand was waving frantically from the far end of the counter. Someone thirsty, he knew as he ambled toward the semaphoring fingers. On Friday nights someone was always thirsty.

The stocky, well-dressed man seated at the small round table nearest the bar leaned over and spoke to his much younger female companion. “You hear all that, Telita? Dead alien, my ass! Probably got it at Toys ‘R’ Us and customized it in his garage.”

“I’m sure he did, honey.” The woman pressed tightly against him, her left arm resting on the shoulder of his expensive suit as she did her best to ignore his breath.

Bending forward, the man lowered his voice to a whisper. “Know what we oughta do, beautiful?”

She smiled and touched one perfect fingernail to the tip of his nose. “Anything you want, honey.” The bulge of his wallet allowed her to overlook the rest of him, along with the twenty-year difference in their ages.

“That’s for later. I mean now, here.”

“No, what?” She feigned interest, just as she’d been feigning interest in everything else he’d said since they’d crossed paths and finalized fiscal arrangements.

“We ought to throw a little panic into Harry from Hicksville. I mean, anyone can buy the Predator or the Alien at their local Sharper Image, and that dorky-looking dummy is the best he could come up with? Who’s he think he’s fooling?” His eyes glittered. “Let’s wait till he’s real busy, and then we’ll swipe the thing!”

The woman looked uncertain. “I don’t know, Jerry. Maybe it’s valuable to him.”

“Aw, he’ll live. We’ll just hide it for a while.” Malicious mirth stained his words. “Be fun to see the big jerk clomping around looking for it. If he asks us we’ll tell him we saw it flying back to Mars, or something.”

Telita glanced over at the busy bartender. “Just don’t get him mad at us, Jerry. He’s pretty big.”

“Hell, he can’t do anything.” Her companion eyed her contemptuously. “Don’t you know how these things work? The guy could be eight feet tall and he still can’t lay a finger on a customer.”

“That depends on whether he cares more about his job or his toy,” she pointed out sensibly. “Maybe it doesn’t even belong to him. Maybe he borrowed it from a friend.”

“Then he’ll be in even more of a panic when it disappears.” Jerry grinned nastily, enjoying his companion’s unease as much as the anticipation. “Look, we’re not gonna dump it in the trash, we’re just gonna hide it for a little while. No harm done.” He snorted and she had to quickly hide a look of distaste. “He probably isn’t watching it closely because he doesn’t think anybody’d bother something that ugly.”

Telita had resigned herself to her wealthy companion’s juvenile aspirations. As long as he was conscious, she couldn’t avail herself of his wallet’s contents. The game had to be played a little longer. “How you gonna do it, Jerry?”

“You go down there …” Pulling her close, he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened and she pulled away slightly. “No, Jerry, honey.”