Put on big hat and walk away.

'Do you think I could pay you next friday? Mike asked as Sam handed him the bag. 'Yeah, sure.' Sam replied. Wondering why Mike couldn't have informed him of this minor detail earlier. It's true, it was only fifty bucks, and obviously him being some kind of a big time drug dealer, this wouldn't be much of an issue. I mean it was only a week, and I'll get paid next Friday. In fact it was a blessing in disguise because now I have this great future money I can work with, I mean it's not like I need this money for anything, like food and gas and good the services that money can provide for. It's not like I have to compensate the individual who if funding this whole operation and needs to get his cut, or that anything matter but you getting what you want from me. Of course Mike hadn't mentioned this marginal detail earlier when he had called him a half hour before he was about to leave for work and told him he was looking for an 'eigth'. Which he had, of course, said out loud, without the use of any code words, or any secrecy as he usually did. A little while before he had called him at 7 in the morning as he was about to finish a shift on the overnight if he knew where he could get an 'ounce?'

For fucks sake, Sam had thought. You're Italian for fuck's sake. Don't you know about wiretaps? And being careful about what you say on the phone? Also you're calling me at seven in the morning asking if someone could get an ounce of weed? What the fuck. Sam had played it cool on the phone. Telling him he would talk about it the next time we saw him at work. But when that time came Sam had gone off, Why would you talk about that shit over the phone? Why were you calling me that early anyway? and Mike had backed off, saying he didn't know it was such a big deal, and that he was trying to help him out anyway. Then it had turned out that Mike's friend didn't even end up wanting the damn thing anyway rendering the whole conversation moot. All and all he was started to learn that dealing with not all that it was cracked up to be. First of all it always seemed like no one had money and everyone wanted something fronted, advanced. Then if you fronted it to them you ended up having to pay most of it back to the person who fronted it to you, things seemed skewed.

Mike had been acting strange after  Alex had been in the accident. He was in a state of limbo. It had been three weeks since the incident and F.R. Rogers had not sent anyone in to replace him. A power vacuum had emerged with the workers finally in control. And Mike had always been the scab, the informant, the first person to run to Alex if he thought anything was amiss. Anyone was going against the rules. Yet he was the first to request weekend days off every weekend, when he knew it was going to be busy, every week. Now his power had been swept from him and he seemed to be in a daze, another world. They had managed to govern themselves fairly well during this period, prep had gotten done, they had adhered their same schedules as before and things had run fine. Perhaps better than before when some macho jackass had been in control. Our commander should be chosen from among the ranks like in the Nights Watch, Sam thought, not by some unknown corporate overlord, after all we are the ones who are going to have to work with the person day to day. Still, there was no way they were going to let it continue this way.

Not that he hadn't ever thought about weed at seven in the morning but come on? Calling someone then, not thinking that maybe they might have other things to do like sleeping, or working? It was inconsiderate at best and addiction at worst. And Sam could see that Mike clearly was addicted to weed. He liked smoking weed as much as anyone else but he knew a fellow addict when he saw one. The nature of the addiction didn't matter, he could tell. The compulsiveness of the way someone did something, the urgency. He was addicted to alcohol and he knew that kind of world ending feeling one could have when it seemed like they wouldn't be able to get their drug. 'Do you want to pack a bowl?' Mike asked Sam. Sam looked up, abruptly realizing Mike was talking to him. Really? I just fronted you 50 dollars worth of weed and you also want me to smoke you up, fuck you. Sam nodded and got his pipe out of his backpack, he handed it to Mike. Mike took the pipe, 'I thought you had..' 'Nope.' Sam said completing his sentence. 'Ok I guess I can pack some.' You sure can, jackass, Sam thought. People are strange, Sam thought as Mike packed the bowl. Mike took a hit and passed it to him.  He took a hit, pondering the whole situation. Might as well take advantage of the situation for now he thought, this power vacuum won't last for much longer.  'So next Friday right? Sam asked finally. 'Yeah, next Friday.' Sam said as he passed the bowl over. 'You know, it doesn't matter to me but, we all get paid on the same day, wouldn't it make more sense just to get the bud when you have the cash and not have to keep paying me every other week?' Mike paused for a second, 'Yeah, maybe.' 'Just a thought.'  Mike got up, 'We better get back in.' 'Ill be in in a little bit.' Sam replied. Let him squirm out there for a while.

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around.

Dave awoke to the smell of smoke and flames. It was hard to tell how long he had been out, what had happened, how  he had ended up this way. He could vaguely recall waking up in the morning, drinking most of a pint of vodka, making breakfast, and doing something else but this? What had happened. The airbag had deployed and he could see the car he had hit in front of him, severely damaged and it looked like the driver blood or something coming from his head. Fuck, Dave thought, then it all came back to him. His plan, everything in the past few months that had driven him to this moment. The company, his job, Alex, their plan to replace him. His plan to take care of Alex. He looked over to the center console, saw that the bottle of whiskey was still intact, took a swig. That sweet burn, he thought. He opened the glove box, pulled out the .38 just one thing to do... He grabbed the the bottle as he emerged from the car. He examined the other car, blue, it looked like Alex's car, in fact as he looked at it more he was sure it was his car, he had seen it a few times when they had all come up to visit.

Through some kind of fate, he had had hit Alex's car, taken care of his problem. The problem was now he would be knee deep in his own kind of problems, manslaughter charges, most likely jail time, Dave knew he wouldn't last in jail. Dave looked at Alex's car, at the stupid face he made at him from the windshield, most likely dead, at least I took someone with me, Dave thought. He could see now that a crowd of customers had gathered to watch the spectacle, to see what had happened. Might as well give them something to gawk at, Dave thought, as he put the .38 to his temple, pulled the trigger and fired.

Headquarters

Seth Rogers was at least 15 minutes late and feeling the pressure. In a few minutes he was supposed to be giving a presentation on how things were going for the business, what were their plans for the next 5 years and how would they improve their business model. It was all a bit difficult to fathom considering what had happened the past two days over at the diner. Alex, the manager, had been in a head on collision with the district manager, Dave, who had come, it seemed, to kill Alex and had soon afterward shot himself in head in front of everyone in the diner. He was still coming to terms himself with everything that had happened. He saw the sign for his exit, 5 miles. The day of the accident Dave had sent a series of long rambling emails to him detailing how he felt he had been screwed by the company over the years, and about how he intended to replace him with Alex, which had never entered his mind. According to his co-workers Dave had been acting strange for the past month, showing up late, around midday, and staying well after everyone had gone, in his office doing who knows what.

Almost there, he thought as he passed the F.R. Rogers Sign on the building. As it turned out, Alex had been stealing time, a whole lot of it, it turned out. They had looked over his timecard and the footage from the cameras in the diner to estimate that Alex had only been working only 5 hour days while he was on the clock for 10-12 hour days. None of it made the company looks good, least of all Seth who was next in line to take over from Frank Sr. That place is a black hole, Seth thought as he pulled into the parking lot. Everyone knew it. We keep pouring money into it, with the same results. Maybe we need to take more control. Put someone we know in there, someone who can get things done, maybe make some kind of profit. They had made money from it in the past, especially the late 90's early 2000's, when there had been line's out the door during the summer. Seth saw his spot in the front marked, 'Reserved for Seth Rogers.' Seth pulled in feeling somewhat relived that he was finally here, and the task was in front of him. It really wasn't as much of a big deal as he made it out to be, he was starting to learn. Stress could lead to health problems, he had learned, and then when you became stressed out about being stressed that could lead to more problem, so where did it end?

Seth got out of the car feeling slightly better, he looked at his watch, 8 minutes late, but it was ok he was Frank's son, they couldn't fire him, they would even tolerate his lame excuses and whatever bizzare rational  he used in the meeting to explain the state of the company, and the diner. He was used to it in some ways, since he was young, he had always been viewed as a successor, the one who was going to take over. He had gotten away from the family business for a few years when he had gone away to college, even taken a few jobs on the outside, but still it had called him back. Part of it was a sense of family loyalty, he still had some of it, he supposed. That was part of it certainly. Also there was a bit of complacency, of the security of knowing it was highly unlikely that he would ever get fired, or fucked with, because of his last name. Of knowing he had a job for life. Seth walked through the front doors feeling slightly more sure of himself, of what he was going to say. After Frank, after the disaster that had been Alex, they needed someone they could trust, someone they knew. Someone who didn't know what they were getting into and wouldn't object, he knew just the person..


Did I cause this somehow? Sam thought as he took a swig of his beer. Did my thoughts somehow cause Alex do get into that accident and die? Did I somehow cause the universe, by some cosmic trick of fate, to cause those two people to be driving at the same time and crash into each other? One, Dave, who was Alex's immediate supervisor?  No, it was impossible. Sure he had prayed, even to gods he didn't believe in, for a crash every time he heard Alex was going somewhere to get something. For a Semi-tractor trailer to roll over in front of him, for a log maybe from one of those trucks hauling massive logs to fall off and and hit his car as he was driving, maybe for a falling rock from one of those roads with those 'Falling rock' signs to just fall on his car as he was driving and crush it. But what of it? He had wished similar fate on other people before, mainly those individuals getting multiple lottery tickets in front of him at the liquor store. The ones who got five scratch tickets and then got 2 'quick picks.' 'You're not going to fucking win!' He wanted to scream, and often wished them to burn in a lake of fire. Of course that was always in the heat of the moment not really targeted to directly at the person. The way you tell the person going too slow in front of you or just being a jackass to 'Burn in hell.' Nothing personal

But it had been different with Alex. Alex had made it personal. He had questioned his skills, his work ethic, his ability to cook on the line. Someone who had never been able to competently cook and work a shift, who sat in the back on the computer, questioning him. Telling him how do his job. With Alex it had been personal and every prayer he had made had been totally heartfelt, and now that his prayers had been answered he could only feel relief. His only sense of dread was who was going to replace Alex, who would they bring in? Someone worse, Sam felt sure, someone far worse. Someone who would make Alex look like a pro. When Gerry was in charge he was sure there was no way they could get anyone worse, then they got Alex. I don't want to see who they get next. I've got to get another job before that happens. I should be able to, I'm qualified, competent, I show up to work on time. Nothing to it.  Still, it was easy to talk about thing like that when you had a job, when nothing was at stake. It was harder to deal with when you had nothing, unemployed, looking for anything. When any job would suffice, not matter what the pay. He had been there before and he had to desire to go back. I need an exit strategy and I need one fast. Something. I need a lot of things, a woman, a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.