“Good Lord, Charlie,” the sweat-drenched country dumplin' gagged as he held the steaming cup at a distance. “What is this stuff?”
His friend was busy with another concoction in the passenger seat beside him.
Finally, Charlie sipped his own canister and said matter-of-factly, “It’s a simple blend of 2/3 straight Brazilian joe, 1/4 black tea, 2/5 whiskey, and one raw egg.”
He looked out the window and smiled. His company did not share his appreciation for the brew.
“Right, I’m sticking to Mt. Dew from here on out.”
And with that, the disgusted one tossed his paper cup out the window and onto the pavement (who didn’t really want it either). Charlie shook his head in disappointment.
“Steve, do you realize what's in Mt. Dew? Half of that stuff is illegal in most countries!”
“And whatever you just gave me isn’t?” Steve cried. He didn’t enjoy being challenged, so he changed the subject before his boat was rocked anymore. He pointed ahead to the lit window above them. “So what’s the story on this chick that makes her so special?”
Charlie shrugged and propped his feet on the dashboard, taking another sip from his cup.
“You know those crazy murders that have been goin' down lately?”
“Oh no, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” moaned Steve, rubbing his eyes. “We’re not getting mixed up in that stuff, are we?”
“She’s nervous that she might be next. Just another paranoid blue-hair, if you ask me,” Charlie let out between nicotine-purged coughs. Then he added, “Although she is widowed to some hot-shot business guy, a tradesman.”
“Trading what, Charlie?”
“Drugs, I guess. I didn't ask. Whatever it was, it got him killed a while back.”
He tossed a mocking glance of paranoia toward Steve, who was shaking his head in disbelief.
“So she called us... And you agreed to it?”
The radio squawked.
//Hey, who better to call than a couple of duck hunters?//
“There’s a lot of cash in it, Steve,” mentioned Charlie in conjunction with their third party’s remark.
Steve threw back his head and laughed aloud.
“You two had better be right, and I hope this turns out to be nothing! Because when shit hits fans, we won’t stand a chance... and no amount of cash is gonna catch our fancy then.”
Charlie agreed with a passive nod, but the radio was encouraging.
//Don’t sweat it, guys. You just keep an eye out down there and I’ve got you covered up here.//
“Yeah. I bet you can see the whole town from up there, eh?”
Steve laughed at his own comment, and Charlie played along.
“Hey, can you see the diner from up there, Sniper Man?”
Both of them were laughing aloud by then. So much so, in fact, that they failed to hear the muffled struggle of their radio friend.
Charlie was the first to stop laughing as he saw the silhouette of their client collapse three stories above them. He was also the first to feel the split-second sting of a silent bullet entering his temple just before he went cold.
Steve was not far behind.
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