Fri., Jun 22, 8:15 p.m.. Dos Jefe’s
Karl Cerullo sits at the bar, absentmindedly stirring his vodka with a cocktail straw. He has been careful to keep his face pointed ahead of himself, questioning whether he has done something, in one of his many stupors, to one of the six law enforcement types currently sitting at a round table a few yards behind him. The conscious decision to do so has left Karl at odds with his usual motis operandi; his favorite game is people watching, and in this case, the only person he can watch is the reflection of himself in the mirror behind the bar. Right now, his face is currently half-hidden by a bottle of Glenfiddich, although Karl isn’t really sure what age of Scotch the bottle contains, considering he’s really only a fan of vodka and has no use for anything other.
His cigarette pack sits next to his drink, the cellophane partially ripped near the top of the box. An imperfection, it must be removed. Karl does so, crumples it into a ball, wraps it in his flimsy, damp bar napkin, and places it in his ashtray next to a lone cigarette butt. Some of the spent ashes cling to the wet napkin.
In the background, the jukebox is playing a Patsy Kline song, one he can’t recall the name of, but one he has heard a number of times, nevertheless. It’s melancholy, perfectly fitting his mood at the moment. If he had his choice, of course, he wouldn’t ever have to deal with Nikolai Valentino. But it is not his choice, and as long as he can keep his contact with the man as limited as possible, life can be manageable.
He is startled when Sunshine grabs his shoulder. “I saw your ostrich,” she says.
Lush Muffin and Arthur Cole are taking their seats to Sunshine’s right having not yet acknowledged Karl.
“You met Archibald, already?” I surprised Karl Cerullo asks.
“Karl, somebody dosed our drinks. It’s the only explanation.”
“Nobody did anything of the kind to me,” he replies.
“Tomorrow, you will feel very silly for all of the things you told me.”
“So you don’t believe you saw an ostrich?”
“Silly man.”
Karl Cerullo snickers, a smirk creeping up the right side of his mouth. “Archibald is nothing if not insistent. Believe me, he’s real.”
Sunshine nods sarcastically. “Whatever you say, Karl, whatever you say.”
Karl shrugs. “Believe what you want.”
“I will, dear.” She turns to Jackson who seems to never leave the bar himself. “Cosmo, honey?”
“Art, Muffin?” Jackson asks the two accordingly.
Arthur Cole puts his finger to his temple. “Red snapper. Goodbye cruel world.”
“Oh, that’s such a good idea. Two, please, large if you would, Jackson?”
“It’s going to be one of those nights.” Jackson mutters sarcastically before retreating to do his business.
Sunshine turns to Art who is directly to her right. “Potty time. Will you watch my phone?”
Arthur Cole glances at Sunshine’s pink contraption she has placed in front of her on the bar. “Will it bite?”
“Very funny. I’ve got to go talk to a man about a horse,” she says before trotting away.
Fri., Jun 22, 8:19 p.m.. Dos Jefe’s
Having done her business, Sunshine stands up from the toilet and straightens her dress with the inside of her palms. She pulls the door of the stall toward her, exits and heads to the sink. Hand washing, at least in this bar, is possible. They tend to keep the bathroom rather tidy. She leans down, turns on the cold faucet, squirts a little soap from the dispenser into her left hand, shares the soap with her right, rubs them together and places both hands under faucet and into the onrushing water. She scrubs them several times until all of the soap has been extricated. Happy with the cleanliness of her hands, she looks up into the mirror.
“You again,” she says to Archibald, who stands directly behind her.
“I am truly sorry if I startled you earlier,” he says, again tipping his top hat.
“Well, you know, it’s not very polite to sneak up on somebody, especially when they’re in the ladies’ room. I mean, even if you are a hallucination, it’s still rude.”
“Of that I am well aware. However, I thought it would be appropriate to speak with you alone, considering.”
“How very avian of you,” she replies, turning around from the mirror. She takes her right index finger and pokes him. She can feel that he has feathers and is, in fact, real. “Usually hallucinations don’t…”
“I assure you, Sunshine, I am not a hallucination. I am as real as you.”
“Oh, brother!”
“Do I remind you of a sibling?” he asks.
“It’s just a saying,” she says, not sure how to expound.
“Well, once again, my name is Archibald,” he says, holding out his claw.
“Well, I guess it is a pleasure to meet you,” Sunshine replies, shaking his claw tentatively with her still pointed index finder. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Just making friends,” he says, “so I’m not so bored all the time.”
Sunshine, furls her brow. “Making friends?”
“You know, for fun,” he says, shaking his head in a playful way.
“So you’re just here to make fun of me?”
“Not at all! No. I just want to play. Play, play, play, play, play, play, play.”
Sunshine grins. “Play?”
“I love to play. But, for now, time for me to go. This room is about to get a visitor.” With that, Archibald presses a button on the top hat and disappears.
A few seconds later, Lush Muffin enters the bathroom. “Hey, honky,” she says to Sunshine.
Sunshine stands, slack jawed, her eyes looking at a point on the wall past Lush Muffin.
“You look like you’ve found out Charles Manson is your baby daddy.”
Sunshine closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly. She lifts her chin diagonally toward the ceiling and says, “Nope. Just another day at the office.” She brushes past Lush Muffin, through the door and out of the bathroom.
Fri., Jun 22, 8:21 p.m., Dos Jefe’s
“Okay, Karl, I believe you,” Sunshine says, taking a large gulp out of her cosmopolitan.
“I take it you met Archibald?”
“Twice. The second time was just now, in the ladies’.”
“I hate it when he does that.”
“So just what is it that he wants from me, anyway?”
Karl Cerullo shrugs. “These aliens are a strange bunch.”
“Did you just say aliens, in the plural?”
Karl nods. “There are a couple of other, even stranger ones around, but they tend to keep to themselves. Archibald is the only one is, oh, how shall I say this…” Karl Cerullo rub his beard with the knuckle of his right index finger. “I’d say he’s more social than the other two, for lack of a better term.”
“Social.”
“Yes.”
Sunshine dumps back the rest of her drink, after which she extends her arm out with the martini glass in hand in Jackson’s direction. The bartender retrieves the glass from her hand and goes to prepare another.
“You shouldn’t worry, really, Sunshine. He’s quite harmless. Actually, in my opinion, anyway, he has a great sense of humor, albeit odd.”
“So I just made friends with a humorous ostrich who is harmless.”
“With the exception of the occasional practical joke.”
Sunshine raises her eyebrows, cocking her head as if to ask for more information.
“Well, that and he can get a bit messy.”
“Messy?”
“And I’d keep the liquor in the house to a minimum. He’s particularly fond of Scotch, but also has an affinity for vodka. Trust me, I know. And he can drink pretty much limitlessly, although I can say that I’ve seen him actually get drunk a couple of times. Those times are particularly messy.”
Jackson returns with Sunshine’s drink. “Thanks, Holmes,” she says and then turns back to Karl. “What I’m sensing here is a bit of anarchy. Would that be far off the mark?”
“I think you hit the bulls eye.”
“And he wants me, as you so delicately put it, to be his playmate?”
“Those were his words, actually.”
Sunshine tries to fish a cigarette out of her purse. Today’s purse happens to be a rather large leather messenger’s bag, filled with a plethora of hairbrushes, lipsticks, chapsticks, balms, lotions, a wallet, pens, a bottle of Advil, birth control pills, and an assortment of other things one would normally find in a desk drawer, not necessarily a purse, a stapler, a roll of masking tape, some trapezoidal erasers and a tape measure. This being said, it takes Sunshine a good half a minute to locate the cigarettes, a fact that is making her more and more hyperactive, her hand lunging through the purse like a python in a pillowcase. At the point she finally retrieves the cigarette, she has become so flustered she lets out an audible grunt, points her unlit cigarette in Jackson’s direction and yells, “Damn it, Jackson! Get me Chartreuse!”
Fri., Jun 22, 8:24 p.m., Dos Jefe’s
“Lush Muffin, did she just yell Chartreuse?”
“Um, I believe you heard correctly.” Arthur Cole believes Sunshine is Pandora, and Pandora has packed for a gambling trip to the Philippines and left the zipper to her suitcase slightly ajar. “I believe the captain has just turned on the fasten your seatbelts sign.”
“Turbulence is scary.”
“Turbulence is child’s play.”
