#stvll

Another customer finished their purchase, two energy drinks (Raul despised their taste, but agreements were agreements and people seemed to buy them regardless of their flavor…or offensive flavor, more like it), and then the door swished shut.

Fabricio grinned softly at Raul from his station. “All good, boss?”

“Think so.”

“I’ll take my lunch.”

“I’ll be here.” Raul tipped the imaginary cap and Fabricio grinned, rubbing his rat paws together and heading off to the breakroom above the store. It was the least he could do for such good employees to ensure that they had someplace above the action to eat. Raul hadn’t been burned by many employees. He was fortunate in that respect. That, and he remembered what it had been like to work for someone else and not have anything given to him, even basic courtesies.

With all the customers cleared out, Raul took the remote for one of the televisions in the place – local connections carried all of the island broadcasts free of charge, and beyond here, anyone who wanted to watch had to pay to do so. The highlight match of the night was a showdown between the Crackling Tiger and a hulking figure wreathed in green – likely some sort of martial artist. Raul flicked the television off. He had no interest in watching this Crackling Tiger.

Now, the old one? He would have been riveted at the register while he watched that match.

“Boss, I’m back.” Fabricio cleaned himself with a quick lick of any crumbs that had reached his shoulders. He was a fast eater – too fast, in Raul’s mind. He’d gotten sick before doing that.

“Good to hear it. I’ll take my lunch, then.”

Fabricio manned the register and Raul headed through the ‘Employees Only’ sign and upstairs. This was also where he had interviews for job applicants, though he wasn’t looking to hire anyone right now. He was set for a long time with the staff he had; even if an emergency meant that some of his regular employees had to miss a week, he could comfortably step in for them.

The lunch he’d chosen was tilapiaR, and it would be delicious. Popping it in the oven at high heat meant that he would be able to relax and get his mind at ease while it cooked – though he realized he also had fresh parahans, a crispy bean that he loved to pair with fish, but needed preparation. He flicked on the front burner and made sure a clean pot was ready, before adding the water and tossing the parahans in it. But a good cook didn’t let them incinerate – he was very attentive to the temperature and made certain that once they had the desired crispiness that they were quickly plated, then he dumped out the water he’d boiled the parahans in and waited for the fish to cook.

He thought of all the regulars he’d seen. Suzie Alvarez was a huge wrestling fan and always made a stop in on Saturdays. She also made sure to give Raul a big hug whenever she could – if things in his life had gone differently, she would have been an interesting roommate. Perhaps more. He banished that thought; she was a friend, a good one, and he always made certain that she had a good reason to return to his store. There was one of the local reporters – a kid who’d moved all the way from the Keltari Lowlands, something that Raul couldn’t blame anyone for doing. There was nothing to do in Keltari, not with the steel mills all shuttered and the iron ore mines all but run out. He felt badly for anyone who had to live there – things simply weren’t going well.

He frowned and thought of another regular. The big coyote he’d missed the other day. He wanted to kick himself in frustration. Of course he had done something foolish like get himself distracted. The store was his life, though he could hear Fabricio disagreeing that he needed something more.

And maybe he did.

Raul wanted to. The question was gnawing at him. But he didn't want to be seen as being too forward, or worse, horny, so he waited for his opportunity and hoped his keen mind could put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Where do I know him from? 

The big brown rat shopkeeper didn't stare too long whenever the coyote went down an aisle. The last thing he could do was scare someone off with an unwanted suspicion; in this business, losing a good customer hurt everything.

Another Tuesday afternoon passed and Raul found himself counting down the hours and the customers at the end of the day. Thursday evening was coming; the big coyote with his swaying gut and rhythmic walk would be there then, 8 minutes before 6 pm. He could have set his watch to those visits by now.

Wednesday was surprisingly busy; he sold out his harnesses of the Gildenmayt lineup and two hoods of his own design.  Gildenmayt was a special contract with a supplier who'd been walled out by Inglewood imports on the corner of 7th Avenue and Merritt Street; they had a far bigger lineup of products than Raul's shop offered but offered no alterations or customization. He suspected his rival business made more on wrestling memorabilia than he did at his place, though; his custom commission work was priced high according to some sneering mouths, but considering how much work he invested and the cost of materials, it was a good rate. And where full sets of gear were involved, you could get a cheap getup at Inglewood Imports or a quality  custom set from Raul's Outfitting.

Wednesday evening tailed off, Raul counted up his receipts, then he looked at a poster he had in his office. The Crackling Tiger hadn't been a good guy; heels never were, but he'd been damn fun to watch. That he appeared to have been replaced by someone obviously different had sent shockwaves through the wrestling circuit of the islands of Cortmanie. Now, there was a new Crackling Tiger; though like his predecessor he was really a big bear wearing a Tiger costume and mask. Raul didn't care much for the bluster and boast of the new one. He liked a classic, and the poster in his office was a classic...the tiger he'd liked, not this pretentious jerk.

Wrestling needed a villain, though. What had changed? Nothing. The new Crackling Tiger was even more outrageous than his predecessor; and far more risque with moves. That attracted a certain audience, and ratings were through the roof for the Friday night wrestling showdowns, but it didn't get Raul's interest. It made him slightly embarrassed to be entirely honest.

He looked at the poster again. His mind thought of the coyote, his regular customer. Yes, he should have known his name by now, but it would be SO rude to get it off a receipt. Tomorrow was coming. He'd ask then, when the coyote was making his purchase. It would be casual, and fine...so long as he didn't think about it too much.