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Go Around
What's the etiquette for interrupting someone dancing in their underwear?
The Hony Tonk had been emptier than usual, the wheezing air-conditioning unit doing little more than drip condensation on anyone unwise enough to enter, and the poor business meant that Paul was being unusually stingy with free refills. Ban and Ginji had been dejectedly reaching the end of their cups of long-tepid coffee when Hevn bounced in and reminded them that the couple that they had been apartment sitting for were returning from their honeymoon the following day.
Ginji jumped
up and went back to the apartment to start removing the traces of two
weeks of bachelor living, while a suddenly enraged Ban stalked out of
the
restaurant and into the humid afternoon. Ban Midou liked to make his
own rules, so being backed into a corner
didn't sit well with him, especially when the thing doing the backing
was his life and the world in general.
He was
irritated at how quickly he'd gotten used to being in the apartment,
mainly because now he'd have to live out of the car again. God, how
he hated being a slave to money - but money was what made everything
happen. Without money you begged for handouts, ate leftovers, slept in
your car. Without money you could never relax, and even when you got
some it was never enough. The apartment-sitting fee would go mainly to
paying their Honky Tonk tab and re-activating their cell phone. He was
tired of being broke, tired of leads that led nowhere (or to non-paying
jobs), tired of the hamster-wheel sensation of hustling and hustling
but never getting anywhere.
It was getting dark by the time he'd walked off enough frustration to be able to squelch the urge to punch random well-dressed strangers, and he wound up sitting and smoking in the park, watching fireflies. What the hell did they do all day? Were they happy that they didn't have to pay rent or an electric bill? How could you tell if bugs were in a good mood or not, anyhow?
He was down to his last cigarette when he stood with a sigh. Time to go back and help Ginji clean. Only fair, after all: half the mess was his.
The apartment was quiet, dark except for the kitchen. The stifling air reeked of pine-and-peppermint cleaner. He slipped his shoes off and padded down the hall - and found Ginji, music player clipped to the back of his underwear, sliding across the floor in his socks, using the broom to play an air guitar solo. At the end the blond bowed to an invisible crowd (his back and shoulders, shiny with sweat, blazed in the overhead light), blew kisses like an idol superstar, raked his sweaty hair out of his face, then set the broom aside and began to tie off the trash bags.
Unnoticed, the blue-eyed loner in the shadows, wielder of the SnakeBite and the Jagan, realized at that moment that there were some things more important than money.
You just had to make sure you got off the wheel long enough to appreciate them.
Themes:
7. superstar
12. in a good mood
first posted 29 Sept 05
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