waltz on the sun

     Sighing absentmindedly, Julian took a seat on the curb and started digging in his pockets for his cigarettes.

     When he finished, he let out an audible exhale, standing as he wiped his hands on his thighs.

   “I’m flattered.”

   “I don’t think that’s a maybe.”

   “I don’t think two qualifies as a lot. It’s also called making conversation.”

   “Just curious.”

   “And you know Luka, too… right?”

     Silas gave a minute shake of his head then continued his work, his expression remaining void of… well, anything, really. 

   “You and Corbin Inman, huh?” Julian leaned on the passenger side door. “How’d that happen?”

     “What’s it to you?”

   “Back left,” Julian pointed.

   “Well, I hate to break it to you, but if you go anywhere in this city without a gun there’s like… a forty percent chance you’re gonna get killed.”

     “Made it this long.” 

   “We didn’t take anything that belonged to you.”

     “Debatable.”

   “My hero.” Julian started toward his car. “To be honest, I’m not actually sure why you’re all worked up. We’ve always gotten along, haven’t we?”

     “Last time you were here, you n’ your friend had guns ready t’take whatever you wanted.” Silas followed, air pump in hand.

   “That may be true…”

   “But I’m too drunk for this shit right now. I already paid you triple, do you have to be difficult? Surely you’ve gotten your payback or whatever by now.”

     “You paid me double.” He spoke into his phone, connected to the speaker out front, and he deposited the money in a lockbox in his office. Begrudgingly, he headed back to the entrance, opening the door with a glare.

   “Excuse me. Did you hear the part where I said I’ve never done this before?”

   “And he wants cash.”

     Julian started digging through his pockets, collecting bills until they added up to somewhere around a hundred. After smoothing out the little stack, he bent, leaning on the door, and slipped it into the slot as instructed.

     “You’re usin’ my shit.”

   “Alright. Well, I already walked here, so… have it your way.”

   “Is this what you call customer service?”

   “What have I ever done to you?”

     “Do I really need to go into all the occasions?”

   “Double,” Julian bargained, “and I do nothing because I’ve never patched a tire in my life.”

     “I didn’t stutter. Triple.”

   “Aw, but you’re at the door already.”

   “Can I sleep over, then? Your girlfriend’s a… friend of a friend.”

     Silas gritted his teeth, “Friend of a friend ain’t good enough.”