“That’s alright, that’s alright. Do you mind if I use the phone? Won’t be but a minute,” he said. He took the final puff of a cigarette and let it slip from his grimy fingers onto the ground, crunching beneath his worn black boot A blue hat, ten gallons, rested forward on his head just before he flicked it back revealing sharp blue eyes looking opposite ways. He raised his wrists to check the watches on either unwashed arm, one a golden digital face and the other analog with a leather band.
“Um, yeah go ahead. You don’t have to ask anymore,” said Arthur, “just don’t take too long. Sorry again, Cowboy.” He had a sincere look in his eye, it quickly disappeared.
“Thank you kindly,” he gave a wink and a smile before turning to walk into the office of the dingy car wash. His boot steps crisp against the pavement but interrupted intermittently by the grainy slide of the flip-flop worn by the other foot. The dusty mug of change he held jingled with each step, the other hand supporting his pants. The door struck a bell as he entered. In the lobby, he is greeted by the stuffy air drenched in weed and car soap. A rainbow of towels and air fresheners enveloped the tiny register and the landline. He walked around the counter and noticed a safe beneath the counter. It was a rusted box with a lock, old and shitty like the rest of the place. A camera lurked in the upper corner of the room watching, Cowboy picked up the phone.
“Hey Dell, it’s me. You’re probably real busy right now, aren’t ya? Out doing somethin er another, well that’s good. That’s real good, I hope yer having fun. Welp, when you get the chance to hear this message go ahead and gimme a call back,” he covers the mic for a second, peeking around the room.
“If I ain- if I ain’t the one who picks up just tell ’em you called for me. You know I got some other people borrowing my cellphone, only one that works on the damn ranch, unfortunately,” he chuckles to himself, there’s a long pause of silence.
“Yep, well I got some other things to get done today before the sun rises. Back into the thick of it, huh? Well, alright. Alright. I love you. Goodbye,” Cowboy hung up the phone. Some change lay next to the register, nickels, and dimes. He slides his hand along the desk guiding the change into his mug. He stepped out slowly, back into the city noise. The car wash tunnel roars a mist into the breeze around him. He looked at Arthur on his phone, glancing up for a second before quickly returning their eyes away. Cowboy stood for a moment, water particles collected on his baggy jeans and tattered white shirt.
“Thank you for the phone. Letting me use your phone,” he said, “I’m just trying to get a hold of a buddy of mine. Owes me some cash.”
“Yeah?” said Arthur. A car pulled up and he guided it in. “Okay,” he said and nodded. He was a young man, younger than he looked because of the hard expression he kept on his face. He was not used to looking people in the eye. He had seen him at the car wash once with a black eye and belt marks on his arms.
“Only reason I’m where these clothes you know, my work clothes,” said Cowboy.
“Right, okay,” Arthur started scrubbing the car. He tapped his earbud.
“Well, I’ll be on my way then,” said Cowboy, “take care of yerself while I’m gone. I can’t keep watch over you all day.” He chuckled to himself; the attendant was unresponsive.
“Right, see you around,” said Arthur. Cowboy started making his way through the lot of vacuums and cars. He traced around the building to the back as his eyes watched those around him. He was used to the looks, but as soon as they saw the mug, they always became unusually focused on what they had been doing except for one man, who had not noticed him at all. He was not using the vacuums and his car had dirt baked into the chipped paint. He sat in the driver’s seat in a veil of shade. Turning the corner, he was ready to clock in. He held the cool blue metal and, in one swift movement, was in the dumpster.
“Now let’s see here,” he said. He ripped open the first bag, bursting with dirt, hair, and plastic. He empties the contents and begins to siphon through it. “Hm, nothing.” He grabs another bag, this one filled with more plastic. A Cheetos bag and a McDonald’s toy caught his eye. He peered in the bag and found it to be a quarter full of that cheesy goodness. He picked up a plastic bag and slid it in. The toy resembled an alien, it lit up briefly when its button was pressed. She would love this, thought Cowboy. She always loved her toys. He smiled as he looked at that chromatic shine.
#
“Thank you, Daddy! I love it!” said Dell. She shook the car as she fooled around with her toy.
“You love it? You love it with all yer heart?” said Cowboy.
“Yes I love it and I love you daddy and I love mommy too daddy,” she said.
“I love you and yer momma too; you make sure you tell her that when you get in there okay?” he said.
“Okay,” she said as she looked down. She held her toy tight as a tear ran down her cheek, her feet dangled from the car seat. “Daddy when will you stay? Me and Lucy miss you, mommy says dogs can talk with their eyes and that’s what Lucy keeps telling me.” Cowboy rested his hand on Dell’s knee and lifted her chin with his finger.
“Cheer up lil’ lady. Things will go back to the way they was soon enough. Daddy needs to prove himself to mommy,” he said.
“But why?” she said, her hands holding her face as if to feel the warmth.
“Daddy’s- Daddy’s not making enough money. Daddy’s gonna get a real job down in Florida with Uncle Chris. Then Daddy’s gonna come back, I promise baby doll,” said Cowboy. He looks up to stifle his tears then back down again at his daughter.
“Now go on, git in there and give Lucy some love for me.” Dell rested her face on his thigh and wrapped her arms around him; she didn’t want to let go. Cowboy rested his hand on her head.
#
He stuffed the toy into the bag and kept digging. It had been about an hour before he found a cigarette, but it is no use without light. He hopped back out of the dumpster, his arms and face caked in dark dirt that made his shirt black. As he hit the ground the car wash doorbell rang. He dusted off and made his way around the corner back into the parking lot.
Cowboy peeked into the garbage cans that lined the lot when some shouting had broken out inside the office. The lot had cleared of cars as the streetlights began to turn on. He watched each bulb turn on, down the line, just like they did every night. As the last one began to glow, BANG.
A sharp clap came from inside the office. Then two more,
BANG.
BANG.
The door swung open as Arthur fell limp. His blood pooled beneath him as he pulled himself away from the door. Cowboy stood in shock as a figure stepped out, weapon drawn. Cowboy’s arms shot up.
“Don’t do it please, don’t do it. I ain’t see nothing sir I was just walking by,” he said. The figure approached wearing a ski mask and a black leather vest, yet all Cowboy could see was his deranged eyes bulging. He held the pistol up to Cowboy’s face as he grabbed him by the back of his collar.
“Get the hell in there, bitch,” said the masked man, “I already had to kill someone tonight don’t make me do it again.” He threw Cowboy down on the floor keeping the gun pointed at him.
“Sit there and shut the fuck up,” he said. He jabbed at the safe door beneath the counter with a knife to pry it open. Cowboy’s silent tears rolled down his face. Arthur’s legs obstructed the door letting the blood seep into the office. Black spray paint on the camera obstructed anyone from knowing of the trap they had been caught in.
“He was just a kid,” said Cowboy. The register drawer flung open, but the man was completely transfixed on his hostage.
“What the fuck did I just tell you? Do you think I’m fucking with you, freak?” the man swiped the register off the counter sending money cascading through the air. He leaped over the counter, armed.
“I don’t think you understand how much you just fucked up. I gave you one simple instruction, and you chose to break it, to not listen, to not listen to me,” he jammed the gun into Cowboy’s face, forcing open his mouth with the barrel.
“You live out on these streets, don’t you? With your dirty ass wearing a flip-flop and a cowboy boot. Don’t you know how serious this shit is around here?” he pushed the gun deeper as Cowboy yelled.
“Please, Jesus Christ, just take the money and go, just take the money,” he said.
“It’s not about that fucking money anymore, I don’t want that fucking money.” He pointed the gun at the floor and put two holes in it, straight through the cash. He jabbed the gun into the temple of Cowboy’s head.
“I want to know that you’re afraid, I want you to know I could fuck your shit up. I can fuck anybody up.” He pressed the warm barrel to his own head now. “I can fuck me up. Better to fuck myself than keep getting fucked by every fucking pig that-“
BANG.
The pistol discharged his brains onto the counter. He lay motionless, lifeless, on top of Cowboy’s legs. All Cowboy can smell is blood and gunpowder, bloody money envelops the car wash lobby. His breathing was heavy and hard for a while until his eyes scanned the room. Then it became slow, deliberate. No sirens, no watching eyes. No more dumpsters, maybe. Maybe not anymore. A twenty-dollar bill hung off the side of the counter, like bait floating down from the surface above, waiting. Then the phone rang.
END
