At The Roadside

The car by the side of the road was a great hulking machine of pastel pink and chrome. Its rear lights sat nestled within two sharp fins, as though it would be blasting off into space at the moment of engine ignition. The car sat parallel to Teddy, shimmering in the summer heat. The white rims of its tires stared at him questioningly; the rear fender skirt gave the impression of an eyebrow lowered in query. It was nothing compared to the pinpoint gaze of the woman stood beside the car, who was appraising Teddy as though he was resurrected roadkill.

“Don’t look so surprised, sweetheart,” he said, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from his suit jacket. A bead of sweat dripped along his temple as he lit one.

“God, why’s it gotta be you?” replied the woman, whose name he knew was Shelley. She had a strong Brooklyn accent and an unrivalled scowl. She slumped against the bonnet of her car with her arms crossed.

“They send their best.”

 “You’re kidding.”

 Teddy sucked on his cigarette and exhaled a lazy plume of smoke. “Maybe, I don’t know. Have you got what was promised?”

With a scalding look, Shelley stormed to the trunk of the car and yanked it open. Teddy approached casually though he could not help but feel a little nervous. He glanced at the gagged millionaire who was gawking back at him from between the car’s spare tire and a wicker picnic basket.

“The hell is that?” Teddy jabbed a finger at the basket, all nerves sapped dry. Shelley looked from him to the modest-looking basket twice as though she was not quite understanding the relevance of the question. Teddy noticed it had a chequered inner lining. There was even a bright blue thermos on second glance. “The hell is this?” he insisted, his voice staggering up an octave.

“What?” Shelley barked.

“You takin’ our friend here to a nice park for sandwiches or what?”

“Don’t fool around!” she snapped indignantly. “Of course not, that’s for me, you big lout. I drove four goddamned hours in this heat. I’m gonna enjoy something while I’m here.”

“Who says it’s over - you’re coming with me to deliver this guy!”

“What? Tom drove to me, I got here to you, that was the deal!”

The man in the trunk made an angry gargled sort of noise only a gagged man could. They both looked at him wearily. He was a large fellow and was wearing one of his famous suits: pinstriped with wide lapels and a gold chain tucked into his waistcoat.

“Hey, that’s a mighty fine lookin’ chain,” Teddy said distractedly, his kleptomania itching. “What you got there?”

He fished out the pocket watch and flipped open its lid. There was a black and white photograph tucked inside of a rather handsome looking feline.

“This your cat, Mr. Miller?”

Mr. Miller grunted aggressively. He tried to kick his legs free, but they were bound tight with rope. He was wearing his finest two-tone shoes, too.

“Beautiful cat,” Teddy agreed, admiring the photograph. He tucked it safely inside the lid and snapped it shut. He returned the watch to Mr. Miller’s pocket, feeling too humbled by the photograph to steal it for himself. He caught sight of Shelley, whose face was a grand masterpiece of seething hatred. “What, it was a beautiful cat, did you wanna see it?”

Shelley shoved him aside as he made a move to retrieve the watch to show her. She slammed the trunk closed on Mr. Miller and gawked at Teddy.

“The deal was -”

“Deal’s sometimes change, sweetheart.” Teddy threw up his hands. “I was told to bring you and Mr. Miller to the next stop, alright? If I don’t, you know it won’t just be my head on the block.”

Shelley looked nervous at this. She then sighed and wiped her forehead on the back of her hand. Her skin was sparkling with sweat and her fashionably coiffed hair was frizzing. There was blue sky all around them with an almost unbroken horizon of parched fields. The gas station stood out like a sore thumb from behind Teddy, where he had arrived by bus an hour earlier. Shelley seemed to notice something over his shoulder. He turned. There was the old man from behind the counter stood out on the shop front, smoking. He was watching them squarely with eyes so sunken they were black voids of shadow beneath his creased brow. Teddy had been promised he was half blind as well as half deaf. He thought he had confirmed this upon arrival, when he had to negotiate to buy the pack of cigarettes from him (the old man kept insisting the chocolate bar was what he wanted) but the feeling of the old man’s steadfast gaze on them was quite disconcerting.

“You say anything to him?” Shelley asked at Teddy’s side.

“Course not. Look away, you’ll make it obvious,” he grumbled, though he too had yet to look away. Shelley grabbed his arm and pulled his attention to the field across the station. They both faced towards the distance horizon, surreptitiously casting looks now and then over their shoulder as if the old man might creep up on them. “He won’t know a thing, don’t fret.”

“Tom said he’s supposed to be half blind and half deaf.”

“Supposed to be or that he is?”

Shelley stared wide-eyed into the bright blue sky, as though playing the memory of what Tom had said to her, then shook her head.

“Dammit, Tom,” she cursed beneath her breathe. “He said supposed to be, I swear it.”

“I’d rather you didn’t swear it,” Teddy muttered. He smoked in thought for a moment. “Well, we gotta wait til 3 before we set off, so look preoccupied.”

“With what? There’s nothin’ out here.”

“I don’t know, sit in the car and take a nap!”

“It’s stifling in there, I’ll shrivel up like a poor prune.”

“Better yet, have your picnic. How ‘bout that?”

Shelley opened her mouth to retort and as she did she turned towards the station. Her eyes left Teddy and looked beyond him. She gasped. Teddy swung round to find the old man only metres away with a shotgun aimed at his chest.

“Away from the car,” the old man barked. Shelley took several steps away from Teddy – but it was clear the old man was addressing him especially. Teddy dropped his cigarette on the ground and licked his lips. He considered the severity of the situation. The old man clearly had something all wrong.

“C’mon now, sir,” he started, but the old man barked the instruction again. Teddy held up his hands casually, summoning the breezy nature he knew he could muster in order to cool a situation down. “Now, look,” he started again almost jovially, and the old man fired, blasting Teddy off of his feet and onto his back. Through hazy eyes, Teddy watched as steam rose from his chest. The old man, now a blurred vision, lowered his gun as Shelley yelled, “What the hell!”

“A message from Tom. Don’t trust Teddy. You have to go ahead on your own.”

As Teddy faded away with the heat of the sun pressing on his skin and the pain in his body unlike anything he had ever felt, he heard a car door open, followed by the aggrieved curse of Shelley, who growled, “You gone done it now, Teddy.” The summer had faded to black, where he could just about make out the image of Mr. Miller’s handsome feline in his memory. Despite everything, he smiled, and was gone.