A horde of savages and a pile of ashes

“Sorry, man. But it’s not my fault the damn plane was late. Blame the flock of idiot birds.” I tried to call him down, but the few hours he’d been waiting for me didn’t do him any good.

“Let me tell you one thing,” he said, as I held the phone to my ear. “If I ever decide to end myself, I promise to make it as botherless as possible for everyone.”

“Well, things would be much easier if everyone would just go die in a forest and then get devoured by wolves. Less work for us bereaved.” This lady standing next to me turned around and gave me a very nasty look. I wouldn’t have given her a second thought if only some people didn’t push on the crowd, and my elbow hadn’t jabbed into her neck.

“Watch where you’re sticking your orangutan arms, godgamnit!” She yelled out, attracting other people’s attention. That was an unfortunate choice of words, considering I’m a guy. I got a little angry, but I tried to stay calm and polite.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re sticking your neck. Or at least start putting it somewhere higher. What is that, like 3 feet?” She was average height but in that moment, I would have said anything to piss her off. And it worked. I could see the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Luckily, I could finally see my suitcase coming on the carousel.

“And maybe you shouldn’t be on the phone in a large crowd. You’re lucky you didn’t poke my eye out… That would be very painful, judging by your unusually pointy elbows.” She was right about one thing. I could have used my earbuds, but I dropped them somewhere while all the savages were rushing out of the plane. And I was sure she was one of them, so she was in no place to tell me shit.

“Hey, Gus,” I said to my buddy when my suitcase was just a reach away. “I’m hanging up, but I’ll be out in a minute.” I heard some mumbling as I pulled the phone away, but I was too focused on getting the hell out of there. But because I was an idiot that morning and put on my skinny jeans, I had trouble putting my phone in my pocket. I was keeping a close eye on it. I had already lost my earbuds, I didn’t need to lose my phone, too.

I kept one hand on it as it was stuck halfway down the pocket, and I reached for my trunk with the other. The woman was barely looking at me now, but I just had to have the last laugh. “By the way, I really hope that the orangutan thing wasn’t about me being black,” I said that loud enough for people around to hear, but I didn’t stick around for the fallout.

I tightly gripped my trunk and pushed around slightly to get out of the crowd. I ran through the airport and found Gus’ car. “What the hell happened in there?” He asked, even though he heard the entire exchange.

“Just drive.”

////////////////////////////////

“Try calling me again,” I said desperately, tossing the pillows and cushions around. “It has to be here somewhere.”

“Just give it up, dude. We’ve looked everywhere and it’s not here.” Said Gus as he leaned back in his recliner chair and pulled out his phone to taunt me.

“Where is it then? Because I put it in my pocket and didn’t take it out this entire time. Unless… did I put it in my pocket? I’m pretty sure I did, but… I was distracted by that shrew yelling at me.” Gus rolled his eyes and tried to hide it behind his phone, but I’m too perceptive not to have noticed. “What?”

“From where I was sitting, it sounded like you deserved it. And there it is. You were mean to a nice lady, and you lost your phone for it.”

“I was as mean to her as she deserved… I know! I left it in your car. No, we looked in there already… I guess it won’t hurt to look again.” I started to walk towards the door, but in the rush I was in, I bumped into my luggage that I stupidly put in the middle of the path.

“Why don’t you try checking in there?”

“Are you crazy? That thing has been locked this entire time.”

“I’m crazy? You’re the one doing one thing over and over. That’s the definition of insanity, you know. And your luggage can’t be crazier than looking inside my cushion.” It did sound crazy, because there was no way my phone would be inside my luggage. But I still had this weird feeling about it, and I looked at the trunk, and I noticed the name tag was on the other side than before, so what if I had put the phone in? I had a lot on my plate lately, at times I felt like I really was losing my mind, so, for a brief moment, I believed it.

“Jackson?” Said Gus after he saw the color drain from my face.

“This isn’t mine,” I said, standing over the luggage, and in a quick movement, I went down to my knees to look at the name tag closely. “How far is North Las Vegas?”

“Like 40 minutes, I guess. And no. I’m not driving you there.”

“Please, man–”

“No. I spent all day in the car working and then waiting for you, I want to lie back and watch the Raiders game. You can look for your phone and call the airlines, they’ll sort it out.”

“That’s gonna take forever. I need to get my trunk now. It’s important.”

“More than your phone? It can’t be that big of a deal. I mean, what do you even have in there? Your stinky underwear and a book. We can get you new ones tomorrow.” He turned on the TV, loud enough to drown out whatever I had to say. Unfortunately for him, what I had to say was far more consequential than him missing his game. So I stole his remote, but before I could do anything with it, he jumped on my bag like my little sister would when I took her doll.

“Give it back, you doofus.” He could even squeal like her. But unlike her, he had a very impressive ability of being able to hold onto his beer through all that and not spill a drop.

I had a lot of practice with these dirty tactics, so I shook him off soon enough and turned the TV off again.

“My dad is in the trunk,” I finally said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gus said, and when I repeated for him, he took a swing on his beer and didn’t stop until he finished it.

“Your old man was cremated, right?” He asked, a shaky look on his face, which eased up a little after I nodded. “Sorry, I’ve just listened to a lot of podcasts, so… when you said he was in your trunk, I pictured–”

“I get it… You don’t have to go with me. But if you’d lend me your car–”

“Hell no. You driving my car would be worse than the Raiders losing tonight. I’m driving, you’re paying for gas.”

I patted him on the back as he walked past me. That was much easier than saying thank you. “Shouldn’t the Raiders be used to losing by now?” I said playfully, which earned me a playful slap on the face.

“So, what’s the name again?” He said after we settled into the car and started driving.

“Some Sarah Anderson,” I said disinterestedly, as I looked outside the window and watched the changing scenery.

“It’s a woman?” Said Gus.

“I guess. Why?”

“Because it’s going to be quite late by the time we get there, and I’m not sure it’s the best idea to show up unannounced on a stranger’s doorstep at that hour.”

“It won’t be even ten. That’s not that late. Besides, it’s Vegas. This city never sleeps.” He didn’t look convinced, so I came up with a solution that I was sure wouldn’t come down to, but it would help me butter him up. “And the strip is not that far. We could always stop by there to cheer you up a little.”

“...A dirt dog would be nice… But just one. Mom left us a pot of her stew before she left.”

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40 minutes later, we made it to a cheap apartment building and rang a lot of doorbells before we found the right one. The name wasn’t on any of them so after asking around and pissing off a lot of people, we were let in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” We heard behind us, as we were looking for the right apartment. The woman was standing there, just as pissed and small as she was at the airport. “The least you could do is be nice to people on the intercom. Now Evelyn is going to steal my socks from the laundry room again.”

“Well, maybe Evelyn needs to get laid,” I said, looking around, avoiding her icy looks.

“Right. I can do magic, but not that well. Just get your things and leave.”

“I just got the one,” I said, seeing my trunk in the hall inside the apartment. If only she would move or give it to me instead of this useless–

“About that,” she said, suddenly seeming a little nervous, “I might also have your phone.” She pulled it out of her pocket and gave it to me. “Your mommy seems worried sick about you.”

“Damn, I forgot I was supposed to call her as soon as I stepped outside the airplane.” I looked at… what’s her name again? Sarah? I looked at Sarah, and her smug smirk. “How did you get my phone again?”

“I stole it.” She said bluntly, the smirk never leaving her face. “In my defense, you were acting like a prick.”

“So you stole my phone?”

“I was going to give it back. I called the airlines earlier and told them I found it on me, and they promised they would take care of it, together with our luggage, so–”

“Whatever.” I went past her to get my trunk, despite her protests, but she stole from me, so I figured this would make us even. I looked closely at the trunk to see if it was okay and if it was really mine, and once I made sure, I was ready to leave, but Gus obviously wasn’t.

“So, how did you manage to steal his phone? Are you a pickpocket or something?”

“I told you. I’m a magician. Speaking of which, you need to get the hell out because there’s a show I need to get to and it’s taking the Uber an eternity to get here, so–.”

“We could drive you.” Gus offered enthusiastically, and then he continued despite seeing me sharply shake my head. “We wanted to stop by at the strip for dirt dogs anyway.”

“Gus–” I tried to intervene, but he lifted his hand at me. If it were anyone else, I would have teared them a new one, but Gus only did such a thing when it was serious, and seeing the way he was looking at her, he was dead serious.

“Tell you something,” he said, leaning on the door frame. “We give you a ride and you invite us to your show.”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said, matching his stance. And I hate to admit it, but she looked much cooler than Gus ever could. “Last-minute tickets are highly sought after. They’re worth a lot more than a ride. At least a ride and a dinner… You brought my luggage with you, right?” Gus and I shared a quick look, which told Sarah more than if we said yes.

“Damn, you two are dumb.” She sighed.

“Tell you something,” Gus said, trying not to let our little fumble ruin his plans. “We go to your show, then go to our place to pick up your trunk, and while we’re there, we have some of my Mom’s beef stew.”

“Really? Your mommy cooked for you? Has that ever worked on a girl before?”

“Of course not. I don’t know why he keeps trying it.” I said, but neither of them paid me much attention.

“Well, you’re in luck. Because I’m a poor magician and I’m starving… And a beef stew sounds amazing. Let’s go!”

They smiled brightly at each other, paying me even less attention as I struggled to get my trunk down the stairs. How that little lady got it up there, I’ll never understand.

“So, how exactly are you poor when you have your own show at the strip?” I asked her, mostly to rip into her, I was getting tired of their flirting.

“It’s not my show. I work behind the stage.”

“Well, that’s far less impressive.”

“I think it’s great.” Said Gus. “Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to take your dad to see a show. So we kill two birds with one stone. And it would be a nice ending to your cute trip.”

“You mean when I went to New Orleans to pick him up after he choked on a beignet?”

“What? Is he okay?” Sarah asked, concerned.

“No. He’s dead. The urn is in my trunk.” I said as I struggled to put it in the back of the car while the other two stood around and watched.

“I had a dead guy in my apartment?”

“To be fair, judging by the look of this building, it probably wasn’t the first time.”

“Good, you’re all loaded up,” Gus called out, effectively shutting us up. “Sarah, you’re riding shotgun. I’m sure you’ll be a much better companion than that one.”

////////////////////////////////

“How could she not call?” Gus said, for the fifth time that day, as he leaned on my shoulder. I could feel my shirt getting wet, but I didn’t have the heart to stop him. “I thought we had a great night together. What’s wrong with me?”

“I told you you should stop picking up girls on your mom’s food.”

“Or maybe I should stop being friends with you.”