7-27-25
Amata barely had time to sit themselves into the passenger seat of the ruby red charger before hearing complaints from its owner. The car itself was lined with a soothing cream felt with cushy leather seats to match. Unlike getting into Bonnie and Detroit’s trucks, there were no forgotten items to shove to the side or junk to chuck into the back to make room. Luxury came at a price.
“Hey, watch where you’re putting those boots,” Narciss barked.
They rolled their eye as they stamped their soles into the shampooed carpeting and latched in the silky smooth seatbelt. “My boots aren’t that muddy.”
Though he couldn’t see the dirt falling out from the grooves of the rubber boots, the anxious thought alone contorted Narciss’s face.
“You watch it, hot shot,” he warned. “You’re lucky we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, otherwise we’d be here all day. It’s not my idea to get stuck with you, but we’re on skeleton staff today with I-5 out and Pinku’s not old enough to go to Cav’s.”
The passenger crossed their arms and huffed. “Yeah, not my idea to get stuck with you either. We could’ve taken my truck.”
Narciss shuddered at the suggestion. “Absolutely not. You’ve only been driving for what, maybe a year? Plus, that thing died years ago and should’ve stayed dead. It’s a miracle it even- no, it’s more like a PITY it even runs! But we’re taking Ruby ‘cause I actually have a trunk that doesn’t advertise the goods, know what I mean?”
Though condescending, his points were solid. The truck’s only real hiding spot for the solance was the glovebox. It stood no chance against the spacious back compartment of Narciss’s sports car. The volume it carried meant the two had their work cut out for them.
The key twisted in the ignition, starting up the glorious rumble of the heavy duty engine. Any arguments between the two faded into the hum of the machine as it drove over the dirt roads and away from the mine.
“Jeezus, just my luck!” Narciss screeched as he pulled into the packed parking lot. He stopped the car abruptly in its tracks, snapping his passenger out of a deep sleep.
“Ow, what? What is it?” Amata wiped the crust out from their eye and the corners of their mouth.
By the entrance of the tavern, a police officer leaned against the wall. The brim of his hat dipped down over his eyes and his arms crossed over the steady breathing of his chest.
Narciss clicked his tongue. “What gives? Like we don’t have enough trouble already…” He backed the car up into a spot and undid his seatbelt. “What the hell, let’s get in there.”
Amata’s hands clutched their seatbelt as they protested. “There’s no way we’re getting anything past that guy.”
“Who said anything about that? Leave the cargo,” Narciss answered.
The two stepped out of the flashy vehicle and moseyed toward the building. The cop didn’t bat an eye.
Past the jingling of the door bell was Cav’s. A good handful of patrons sat at the bar, backs turned to the door and necks craned toward the TV mounted in the corner and blaring the baseball game. Cavendish himself leaned an elbow over the counter, humming a melody before he set eyes on the two guests.
“Boys, so good to see you,” he greeted. He smiled warmly, pushing the wrinkles of his tanned face upward. “Come on over, I got something for you to try.”
Amata looked to Narciss, who focused dead ahead and wordlessly continued his stride to the oak tabletop.
The barkeep’s pruned hands reached enthusiastically for a couple of bottles, and quickly fixed a concoction of juicy reds and sour yellows. He topped off the silver shaker with tonic water, stirred delicately, and poured the mix into two short faceted glasses. An infectiously proud grin beamed across his face as he pushed them in the direction of his guests.
Narciss’s elbow planted itself firmly on the counter, propping up his frown.
Cavendish raised an eyebrow and said, “What, don’t like raspberry?” He stuck his tongue out playfully and chuckled to himself.
Amata reached for one of the drinks. Narciss did not. “What’s with the bozo out front, huh? Couldn’t find an ugly enough gargoyle or something?”
His partner in crime choked on their cocktail.
“Spoilsports invite themselves, you know,” Cavendish replied less humorously. “You should know that.”
Amata cleared their throat. “What’s he looking for?”
“Trouble, that’s who.” The barkeep held his hand up to Amata’s eye level. “About yea high, shoulder length crown of crystals, and wears a baseball cap.” He leaned in close and his voice dropped down low. “Know anyone who fits that description?”
Their heartbeat stilled.
A sharp jab to the side broke the shock. “You knucklehead,” scowled Narciss. He looked up at Cavendish. “Whaddya tell ‘em?”
“Nothing he wants to hear,” he answered. “I intend to keep it that way.”
“Well,” Narciss started. “Coming here today was a bust. In that case, me and the most wanted kid Anterica have gotta get going.” He grabbed the crook of Amata’s elbow and pulled them loose from the counter. They yanked their arm out of his grip and followed close to his side.
They whispered, “You mean they’re looking for ME?”
Narciss clicked his tongue and let out an exasperated groan. “You? Nah, they’re looking for Waldo.” He seethed under his breath, “YES, they’re looking for you, what did you think was gonna happen? Helltrooper might be a hardass, but he’s tough for a reason.”
Before they could argue, the door opened right in front of the two of them. Amata instinctively grabbed their partner’s wool coat sleeve and shrunk behind him like a guilty child.
The older of them withheld his frustration, sensing the cop’s curiosity. He smiled at him and said, “She’s shy. Have a good day, officer.”
Though confused, the lawman simply nodded and pushed his way past them.
Amata balled up a fist and sailed it into Narciss’s kidney as the door jingled closed behind them.
“OW!” Narciss hissed. “What’s that for? Are you asking to get caught?”
“It’s the deal, remember?” They released their timid grip on his coat and shoved their hands into their jean pockets.
Narciss nursed his tender side with circular motions. “Right, not a girl.” He threw his arms up into the air and frustration gritted from his throat. “Whatever, man! That’s the least of our worries right now! Jeezus!”
Another firm fist flew into the raw spot on his side, knocking the wind out of his lungs. The middle aged man coughed into his fist and shoved the younger of them to the side as they kept their stride to the car.