High, How are You?

A thick cloud of smoke rises from Martin’s parked Audi, as he and Erica head toward The Cheeze Kake Factory. Their eyes red and stomach’s grumbling, they walk in unison with hands clenched connecting them.

“This is going to be so good,” Martin says stroking ash out of his beard. “Oooh, I wonder if they have Milkshakes here? It looks like a place that would have Milkshakes,” He continues with a smile as he reaches for the door.

With a quick curtsy, “I hope they have good waffles. Oooh, it’d be great if they had real Belgian waffles,” Erica finishes as she opens the second door, and giving an approving nod to Martin’s curtsy.

“But you know what I do need?! Water. Oooh and a beer. Do you think they have beer?” Martin finishes in a hushed voice. “Hi!”

Startled the passing server almost drops the box of donuts for the two officers sitting at the counter, “Um, hi, Tina, the hostess will be right with you.”

Appearing from behind the bar, “Hi, My name’s Tina. Table for two? I’m sorry, smoking section is full. I could let you know when a table opens up. Or you could sit in the diner or the bar.”

“Bar,” Erica says locking eyes with her accomplice.

Tina grabs two menus, “Ok, follow me.” Swerving past servers, busboys, and patrons she stops at a table, “Is by the window ok?” She leans in, “No one from the street can see in. I like to sit here and people watch,”

“Window’s fine,” says Martin removing his jacket and throwing it upon the chair closest to the window.

He sits with his eyes on the door, Erica places her black leather purse on the chair next to her. Tina places the menus and walks off, she said something but they didn’t notice.

Erica takes off her hood, and slides her chair in across from her beacon of love, “I can’t believe we’re done,” she finishes with a sigh.

Leaning back in his chair exhaling vapor, Martin responds, “Yeah, I can’t really believe it either… We did it. Like, I thought we could do it. But you know nothing is guaranteed.”

“Right!?!” she blurts.

“What are the chances that someone from Chile comes after us?” asks Martin.

“Honestly, I think pretty slim. Like, you don’t think he actually had any legit ties down there? If he did then he would’ve been better prepared.”

“Right!?!” Martin spews. “It was really easy. Surprisingly easy. Suspiciously easy. Hmmm…”

Pausing to stare, kiss, and look down at the menus they pondered the night’s events. The names of dishes not having their intended effect. The “SHHhhaakennN Milk Section,” was lost on them. Characters strewn about the page causing destruction and mayhem had the couple mesmerized, seeing in the over-sized page their own actions.

“Hi, my name’s Betsy, I’ll be your server this evening. How are we this evening?”

Turning his neck to catch a glimpse of her, slanted she stood a short woman covered in ink, “High, how are you?”

“Sober and jealous. You know what you want to eat?”

“Your best milkshake, a waffle, some chicken tenders, and a cheeseburger with bacon and jalapeeeno peepers. Ooh and fries,” Erica rattles off.

Straightening his view, “And two beers, and two mid-range whiskey shots.”

Betsy reviews the order, takes their menus, and leaves, “Betsy, huh? I hate to see her go. But, I’ll love watching her return with our food,” Erica adds.

“I mean if she’s down, I’m down,” says Martin.

“What?” Erica says, searching for his eyes.

“What? I can’t wait ‘til she puts those drinks down,” Martin says with a coy smile.

“Oh yeah, so you can look at her ass again as she walks away?” Erica says through a smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

“Yup, just like you did, and will, and will again when she brings the food,” Martin says inching toward her face.

“She is my type,” she says before their lips touch.

They both lean back.

“So now that we’ve taken out Jorge and his little crew, what do you think we should do if someone comes looking?” Martin asks.

“Nothing we, won’t be here. Shit, right now we’re already not there. We’ll be on the beach watching people fuck in the sand.”

“Have you ever been to a beach?” laughs Martin.

“Once, I had to take out the CFO of a multinational bullshit conglomerate, and he was fucking on the beach when I capped him. Well Capped ‘em both, cuz loose ends and all that,” Erica replies.

“Why do you have a story for every crazy thing you say?” says Martin.

“When you’ve been making people dead as long as I have, you see a lot of crazy shit, therefore you have a Johnny Walker crap-fest’s of a load of stories. Before you ask, ‘No,’ I don’t think Johnny is shitty whiskey.”

Doubled over with laughter, Martin, “I was there for that one.”

They laugh together for a while over the specifics of the night. Erica notices the bar is now empty.

“I’m not getting that waffle am I?” she asks.

“No, you’re not,” he says sorrowfully.

She looks out the window, “You brought fucking SWAT?”

“FBI actually. So let’s keep this nice and simple. We walk out of here. No one gets hurt.”

“Fuck you I told you I’m not going back inside, I know too much they wouldn’t let me make it to questioning. Honestly, I’m surprised anyone showed up here. I guess the higher-ups are done with me. Well, I really loved you… This is a shame,” she finishes shaking her head.

“You don’t have to do anything extreme. We can just walk out of here,” Martin says calmly reaching behind his back.

“Nope,” she kicks his shin, grabs her bag and shoots him twice in the chest, “Fuck you,” she says before a deluge of bullets knocks them both to the floor.