I was listening to the radio when this song came on and an idea popped into my head, so once again I followed my muse…
Bosco drummed his fingers on the door, playing whatever tune was rattling around in his head at the moment. He shot a quick look at his watch, let out an impatient breath and continued to bang out a beat against the door.
"God, today is taking forever," Bosco muttered, glancing over at Sasha. She nodded in agreement, pulling the wheel to the left as they made a turn. They were riding in the RMP together today.
"Today may be quiet but at least it isn't as crazy as it usually is," Monroe noted, looking at Bosco through lowered lashes. He made a grunted sound of reply, obviously not in a talkative mood. Monroe shifted in her seat, searching her mind for an interesting topic of conversation. A grumpy Bosco was not a pleasant thing.
"Bosco," she let the word roll off her tongue as if testing it, "Who gave you that nickname?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders, looking out his window with a pout. Monroe glanced over at him again, smiling at the picture he made with his fist under his chin; staring out the window like he was bored to the point of tears. He looked like a little boy. Bosco was too tough a name for a little boy. No, at the moment he looked every bit of a Maurice.
"What's up, Maurice?" Monroe asked with exaggerated concern, like a mother would question of a sulking child. Bosco's head came up at that, his eyes wide.
"What did you call me?" he asked, scandalized.
"Maurice," she answered dismissively, "Well isn't that your name?" she asked with an innocent smile when he just glowered at her.
"Yea," he said tersely, turning to the window again.
"Who thought of Maurice?" Monroe asked, inspired now that she had broken the tense silence in the car.
"My Ma," Bosco said, not playing along with Monroe's attempts at conversation. He wasn't in a people mood today.
"Well, how did she think of it?" Monroe persisted, not giving up on her feeble exchange.
Bosco let out a dramatic sigh, and rested his head against the seat. Sasha switched her attention back to the street; thinking that was all she was going to coax out of Bosco. She was startled out of her reverie when she heard Bosco reply.
"She got it from that song," Bosco said, staring directly into Monroe's eyes when she glimpsed in his direction.
"Which song?" she asked, truly interested now but not daring to show it in case Bosco dropped the subject again.
"You know, the one that goes space cowboy…" Bosco trailed off. When he got a bemused stare from Monroe, he huffed and hummed out the words exasperatedly, "Some people call me the space cowboy. Some people call me the gangster of love…"
"Some people call me Maurice," Monroe finished with a grin at Bosco as she remembered, "Cause I speak the pompitous of love."
"Yea. Well, I don't know what no pompitous is. I sure as hell wouldn't be speaking about it if I did. I don't know why the hell she had to name me after a song," he muttered grumpily.
Monroe threw him another look, smiling when she saw that pout again; "Well at least she didn't name you Sue like after A Boy Named Sue," she chuckled. Bosco mumbled something under his breath, and Monroe's chuckle grew into a full laugh when she saw his face turn red.
Bosco turned his head and mumbled, "Not funny," as he glared out the window. Monroe turned in time to see him duck his head on his fist again, but she didn't miss that little smirk he gave as he turned away.
She laughed again as she made another turn, "You're really something Bos," she said when she finished wiping tears from her eyes.
He grinned to his reflection in the window.