The sound of the coffee maker grinding out a new pot was the only noise in the entire store and it made the solitary cashier behind the counter rub his temples wearily. The manager had given the staff a coffee machine to keep them going on late shifts, especially after the corner store extended its hours well into the night. They'd hidden it behind the counter so customers couldn't see it and it was plugged into a grimy outlet on the wall beside the register. It wasn't by any means a brand name new release so the noise was painfully piercing in the quiet of Denver at nearly midnight, but any coffee was better than no coffee.
Stan Marsh had landed the late shifts for the past two weeks and this obnoxious coffee machine had become his best friend. He spent his days sleeping or helping his older sister Shelly move her belongings into her new fancy apartment and his nights hugging a coffee mug and mindlessly typing out sequences he'd long since memorized on the cash register.
He'd worked at this corner store ever since he'd graduated from high school and his parents had divorced officially. No one had really expected it to stick, but when Sharon moved herself and the kids to Denver, it began to sink in that she was serious. Stan had gotten a few phone calls from his dad, but other than that, the family was moving on. He kept promising to come and visit Randy in South Park and then forgetting those promises while he was scanning chicken Caesar wraps and Gatorade at the till. Stan hadn't been to South Park in four years and he couldn't really say he missed it. Denver was much more of a central hub and he'd managed to live a much more normal life here than he ever had back home.
Really, if Stan had to pick just one thing he missed from South Park, it would have to be his friends. He hadn't had much contact with them since moving either. Kyle Broflovski had set up a system where they'd FaceTime every weekend, but that had eventually waned and stopped entirely when Stan got a job. Kyle hadn't seemed too happy about that. The last time they'd spoken had been a year ago and they'd argued for nearly an hour before Stan had to go to work. He'd nearly gotten fired that night for bitching at the customers.
That wasn't to say he didn't have friends in Denver, but it wasn't the same. Terry Manning, Greg Thomas and Samantha Wallace didn't have the same experiences that Stan had. They had led normal lives with normal families and when it really came down to it, they didn't have a lot in common. They'd get together, buy snacks, watch movies and drink until it didn't matter what interests they had. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't the same.
Come to think of it, Sam had said she was going to visit Stan tonight. Stan glanced at the clock with half lidded eyes. 12:05 am. Sam would be on her way back from the club any minute now and would probably spend a good half hour wasting time with Stan at the counter. As the din from the coffee machine died down and a stream of dark liquid poured into the glass below, Stan pulled out two clean mugs he'd brought from home and set about mixing the right amount of cream and sugar into each mug.
Sam worked as a bartender at the local club; the only club, from opening the doors at 9pm up until midnight when a fiery redhead with piercings lining her ears, lips and one eyebrow took over until closing. Stan rather liked the redhead, but Sam insisted she wasn't worth his time. Plus she had once insinuated that the redhead had some rather sensitive areas pierced as well, which was probably the only reason Stan hadn't bothered to try and talk to her yet. He liked piercings, to some degree, but not that much.
As expected, the door chime rang quietly through the store and a small hooded figure entered from the cold outside. Stan had turned the ringer down quite a bit because the racket it caused when you were half asleep was like being woken up by a fucking devil. Or at least, that's the way he'd described it to his friends.
Sam lifted her hood off her head and shook out her shoulder length blonde hair, casting a glance at the counter to make sure it was Stan there and not some other lackey before smiling and unzipping her coat.
"Hey, loser, how's it going?" She said amiably, walking over to Stan, her heeled boots clicking on the tiled floor.
"I'm going to die." Stan said blandly, holding up a mug of coffee he'd mixed the way Sam liked it.
"Thanks." She accepted the cup and gently blew over the top, cooling it down.
"How was work?" Stan asked, slowly swirling the contents of his own coffee around the inside of the mug.
"I can't quite hear out of my right ear, but it was good. They got a birthday party in tonight so everyone's throwing a shit fit and blaring top hits like Black Eyed Peas and Justin Bieber. Girl looks about twenty, you'd think they'd play good music." Sam rolled her eyes. "My top slipped a bit and I got a nice tip at least."
Sam pulled back her jacket to show off her ruby red tank top with the black vest she'd bought when Stan, Greg and her had gone out of town.
"Strap slipped right off, got that whole sexy nonchalant thing going on." Sam wiggled her shoulders and smirked at Stan, who in turn gave her his best seductive eyebrow raise and looked her over playfully.
"I'd trade you jobs, but I don't think my tits are as perky as yours." Stan teased.
Sam laughed and deliberately eyed Stan's chest.
"Yeah. Could always wear super tight pants and flash your junk at people." Sam suggested.
"I'll get right on that." Stan made a face and took a sip of his coffee.
"When are you off?" Sam inquired.
"Three." Stan answered, glaring at the clock and willing it to go faster.
"That sucks. I'll stay till one, if you want." Sam offered, looking to Stan for a reaction. "I have to be home after that though, mom's doing some family lunch tomorrow and I'm required to be there."
"Stay till whenever." Stan shrugged, trying to look noncommittal, but he really wanted the company. On a Wednesday night, it was going to be dead until closing.
Sam grinned, knowing Stan well enough to know what he meant by that.
"Alright." She nodded, tilting her mug back to take a drink. "I'll stay."
0000000
"Stan?"
A knocking on the door woke Stan up two hours before his scheduled alarm. He opened one eye miserably and caught sight of the clock before he caught his mother poking her head into his room.
"Stan, can you book off next weekend from work?" Sharon asked.
"Why?" Stan asked back.
Sharon shifted in the doorway and gave Stan an apologetic look before answering. "It's your dad."
Stan groaned, burying his head in his pillow and hastily tugging his blankets up over his messy hair.
"I thought we weren't talking to dad." Stan complained.
"We weren't. Ever since Linda moved in with him, your father hasn't needed to contact us. But...well, it was Linda who called this time. Randy's been in an accident. Nothing too serious, the bastard's probably acting up again, but Linda's asked us to come and see him." Sharon explained, her obvious dislike for Randy's new fiancé evident in every mention of the woman's name.
"Why?" Stan whined. "Can't she take care of him? What's that ring doing on her finger if not to appoint her Randy Marsh's caretaker?"
Sharon tried not to smile at Stan's poor humour towards Randy and continued.
"Linda's heading up for a job opportunity out of town and she'll only be there the Friday we'd arrive. I'd say no if he had anyone else, but since grandpa's passing...he's kind of got no one else." Sharon shrugged, though Stan couldn't see her. "Shelly's already on board and will probably do most of the work anyway, so let me know if you can get time off, okay?"
Stan peeked out from under the blankets to see Sharon leave and promptly threw them back over himself. Why did they need to go take care of Randy, hadn't that part of their lives ended when Sharon had served him the divorce papers? God, sometimes Stan just hated his dad. What kind of accident could he have been in now?
Probably something he caused, Stan thought bitterly.
Amidst his reluctance, an idea cropped up that made Stan stop his inner bitching to think. They'd be going back to South Park. Shelly wanted to do most of the work. That meant Stan would have free time. Free time to perhaps visit the friends he missed.
Stan sighed and glared at his pillow. He'd have to deal with asking for time off tonight when he took over from Ian. Ian McCoy was basically the guy to ask for holidays because he was basically the guy in charge of scheduling. The boss wasn't too good with organizing who worked together better and who half of the staff was sometimes, so Ian finalized all the schedules because he knew everyone.
Randy Marsh versus friends. Not exactly the weekend Stan would plan for himself, but who knew. Maybe it would be worth his while.