Avery Nichols was going crazy being cooped up in the house. After those damn kids had sucker punched him in the bar and dumped him on his porch naked, his wife had been quite adamant that his private investigation of Port Haven’s corruption was at an end. She probably would have been okay with him trying again if the goat they had dressed in Nichols’ clothes hadn’t eaten her rose bushes.
Nichols hated television so there was no wasting time that way. Lisa refused to let him do any more yardwork today because she claimed he was ruining her master plan for the garden. Finally he gave up pacing around the house trying to find something to do, poured the milk down the sink, and shouted that he was going to the store for more.
His dark green BMW was in sparkling condition, as always, but it seemed like such a shame to drive it around such a dump of a town. Nichols parked at the back of the grocery store parking lot to make such no one dented his beautiful car with their ugly old rust bucket truck.
The only grocery store in town belonged to Varner, but Nichols had already decided to keep his promise to Lisa not to go sniffing around Varner’s business, legitimate or otherwise. As he walked down refrigerated section he groaned.
Arthur Knob was standing in front of the beer looking contemplative.
“What’s the matter, your girlfriend get fired for assaulting a customer?” Nichols asked angrily.
Knob nearly jumped out of his skin. “Detective Nichols! Listen, sorry about the other night...um...yeah. And the goat.”
Nichols ground his teeth. “Boy, you’re lucky my wife made me promise not to kick your ass!”
“Right, she sounds like a lovely lady!” Knob grabbed two cases of beer and ran off.
Nichols muttered obscenities under his breath. He stalked off towards the milk without looking where he was going and crashed directly into Thomas Varner.
Varner rounded on him with a hateful sneer.
“My apologies, I didn’t-” Nichols began his insincere apology.
Varner grabbed a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls and bashed Nichols in the temple with it. He then screamed, utterly enraged, and pounced on Nichols, throwing punches savagely. Nichols kneed the old geezer in the groin and flipped him over to land on his back. Nichols then rolled away and tried to stand, but Varner grabbed his ankle and dragged him back. Varner jumped on top of Nichols’ back and put him in a choke hold. Nichols punched upward feverishly and was rewarded with blood trickling down out of Varner’s nose, but still the old man would not let up.
“You’re killing me!” Nichols tried to croak, but Varner held him too tightly. Blackness started to close in from the edges of his vision. Nichols tried one last desperate whole-body spasm. It did not work and Varner finished choking the life out of him.
+
Arthur paid for his beer with the gift cards that Varner compensated him for his dimes with. He reflected, not for the first time, how strange it was to live almost completely without money. He traded dimes to Lester for his living space, to Varner for groceries, to Mr. Peterson for booze at the bar, pretty much everywhere except the diner where he used to try and work up the courage to ask Abby out. Big Stan was too much of a hard ass to bend the rules by trading free food for fake dimes. Now that he was dating Sam he didn’t even need to set aside dimes for that.
When he arrived back at Sam’s apartment he found a bit of a shit show waiting for him. Sam was sitting cross-legged on top of her kitchen table surrounded by a little fort made from beer cans, most of which were empties. Macy’s ass was stuck in a small laundry hamper and she was trying frantically to reach the vodka bottle that was just out of her reach. The pot full of spaghetti was lying face down on the floor in front of the stove.
“Jesus, I was gone for less than twenty minutes!” Arthur exclaimed.
“Macy tried to help with the ‘paskety,” Sam explained from behind her fort. “It ended badly.”
“Just like me and Emmett!” Macy started bawling anew.
“Spontaneous crying, that’s a shotgun!” Sam snapped open a new can from her fort, pierced a hole in the side, and chugged the whole thing.
“You made up a drinking game?” Arthur asked dubiously.
“Yup!” Sam grinned. “And I’m winning!”
Arthur loaded the newly purchased beer into the fridge and then opened a can for himself. “I can see that.”
“I was keeping up until I got stuck,” Macy explained from her laundry basket. “I wish we had ice cream. Emmett always bought me ice cream!” She began sobbing once more.
“Ooh, now you have to chug that!” Sam told Arthur as she popped open another beer from her fort.
Arthur chugged his beer right alongside Sam and grabbed another from the refrigerator. “So what’s the deal with your cousin, does this happen a lot where she appears at your door and asks to crash?”
“The average is every eight months,” Sam answered. “Her average stay at my apartment varies from two days to two months.” She groaned.
Arthur moved a wall of Sam’s fort so that he could climb up on the table beside her. “Which is why you needed more beer, I assume.”
Sam nodded. “If she didn’t look so much like me then I would be able to claim she was adopted or something,” she whispered.
“Yeah, that is a little freaky,” Arthur admitted.
“It was worse before she fell in love with ice cream. People would actually come up to me and say how much they liked my hair dyed red. It was infuriating!”
“Secrets don’t make friends!” Macy shouted from the floor.
“It’s not a secret that we look alike,” Sam growled back.
Arthur put his arm around her waist. “Easy, there. Just drink your beer and try to ignore her.”
“Oh the huge manatee!” Macy shouted as she accidentally tipped herself over and was unable to pull herself either out of her basket or back upright.
“Easier said than done,” Sam grumbled.
“Should we rescue her?” Arthur asked.
Sam sighed. “You can try.”
Arthur hopped down from the table to try and extricate Macy from her predicament. “Here, grab my hand.” He offered her his hand.
Macy grabbed his arm and tugged so hard that Arthur nearly fell over on top of her. “It’s not working!”
“Calm down,” Arthur told her.
“I can’t be calm! I need a cheese burger! Or chicken strips, with honey mustard! Can we go get chicken strips with honey mustard? Please! I’ll explode if I don’t get chicken strips with honey mustard. That happens to me sometimes.”
“Maybe if we get you out of that basket,” Arthur said noncommittally. He put one foot on the lip of the basket and tugged really hard on Macy’s arms. She didn’t budge. “Jesus, you’re in there good.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Macy demanded. “Because I am not fat! I don’t care what you Emmett and my stupid mom say! I’m pretty, why won’t anyone say I’m pretty?” Macy started crying again.
“Gotta drink now!” Sam tossed him a beer to chug and then she grabbed one for herself.
Arthur chugged his beer. “Listen up now, Macy. Just listen to me and I’ll get you out of there. You aren’t fat, you’re a very pretty girl who has gotten herself in a bit of a situation.”
“You really think I’m pretty?” Macy asked as she wiped away the snot that had begun dripping out of her nose.
Arthur nodded.
That upset Macy immensely. “But you’re already taken!” she wailed. “Sam, why did you have to steal the only boy who doesn’t think I’m a fat cow?”
“You know what, Macy?” Arthur suddenly had a brilliant idea. “Sam and I are going to go get you chicken strips and bring them back here. How does that sound?”
“With honey mustard?” Macy sniffled.
“With honey mustard,” Arthur promised. “Now here’s your vodka.” He handed her the bottle she had been trying to reach earlier.
“Ooh!” Macy poured herself a generous helping.
Arthur grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled her out the door behind him. Sam laughed hysterically. “I told you she was beyond saving,” she gloated triumphantly.
“You were right. And now both of us are drunk in your apartment complex parking lot making a fast food run for her.” Arthur groaned.
“It was a good exit strategy, though. I was just planning to drink myself into a stupor.” Sam was having some difficulty walking so she latched onto Arthur’s arm. “Why are you so much less wobbly than me?”
“I drank three beers, drank them very quickly I guess, but if I calculated the size of your fort correctly you were well into the mid-teens,” Arthur pointed out.
“Oh, right. Math.” Sam made a face. “So are we really getting chicken strips for Macy? That feels like we’re enabling her.”
“Oh, hell no! Can I see your phone?” Arthur asked. Sam gave him her phone and he called a taxi driver who owed him about a dozen favors. “Hey, Vicktor! Yeah, it’s Arthur. Can you pick me up and take me to the bar? Yes, to the bar. I’m in the Green Grove Apartments parking lot. Thanks.”
“We’re going to the bar?” Sam asked, a bit incredulous. “You know I work there, right?”
“And you know that I drink for free there, right?” Arthur smiled.
“Good point! Oh, wait. I’m still wearing your clothes.” Sam frowned, looking down at her t-shirt and sweats.
“Wearing the hell out of them, you mean.” Arthur put his hands on her waist and leaned in for a kiss.
A kiss that was interrupted by Macy running towards them shouting, “Guys! Hey guys! I got free! See? All by myself, aren’t you proud of me? Guys! Guys, hey! Are you listening to me? I got free all by myself!”
“Nope, not letting her ruin this.” Sam grabbed Arthur’s ears and pulled him down for a long kiss.
“Jeez, are you guys swimmers or something?” Macy asked as they continued kissing. “You can both hold your breath for a really long time. I dated a guy on the swim team once, but he stole two hundred dollars from my mom and then I wasn’t allowed to go out with him any more. Sad, really. He played the guitar.”
When Sam finally came up for air she shouted at Macy, “Dammit, I am trying to have a moment here!”
Tears welled up in Macy’s eyes. “Dammit. That almost rhymes with Emmett!”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Sam exclaimed.
Arthur was saved from having to stop Sam from trying to slap some sense into Macy, however. Vicktor arrived and Arthur and Sam piled into the back seat.
“Where are you going?” Macy asked. “I thought we were going to get chicken strips and there’s a KFC right around the corner.”
“We are,” Arthur told her. “The bar Sam works at has way better chicken strips than KFC.”
Macy regarded his skeptically. “And they have honey mustard?”
Arthur nudged Sam with his elbow. “We make our own awesome honey mustard sauce,” Sam assured her.
“Oh, okay then!” Macy squeezed into the back seat of the cab with them rather than taking the open front passenger seat.
It was a bit of a tight fit and Arthur, who was in the middle, found himself wedged tightly in between Sam, which was delightful, and her cousin, which was less so. “My favorite bar, please!” Arthur told Vickor desperately.
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