A few days later, I was watching the shop as Mac worked in the back room.
Watching the shop without him around was fun – I always felt like I owned the
place. When customers came in, I was kind of the 'important one.' I was sitting
at Mac's desk, going through some old files, when the little bell over the door
jingled, announcing the arrival of someone in the shop. Getting up from the desk,
I walked over to the door to greet whoever it was, trying to look grown up. (Not
that I wasn't, of course. But it never hurt to add a little effect.) My little effect
dropped, however, when I saw who it was.
"JC!" I said in surprise. She glanced at me quickly, then went back to
inspecting her surroundings. Her gaze traveled over the walls, the displays,
everything she could see, until finally her eyes settled on me. "What are you
doing here?" I asked curiously. "You're not going to run away again, are you?"
She slowly shook her head.
"I'm not planning on it." She took another quick look around, then said
abruptly, "I never got your name." I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted it." One side of her mouth smiled, like
only half of her found it funny.
She didn't seem like she was about to say anything else, however, so I finally
said, "Ok, I'm Richie." She looked me over carefully, like she was comparing
what she saw with the name.
"Richie," she repeated thoughtfully. "You look like a Richie." I made a face.
"I sort of feel like one, too," I retorted. "I hope that's not a problem." Just then
Mac emerged from the back. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair was loose, and
his hands were filthy. "Wash your hands before you come in here," I told him.
"You'll get something dirty."
"I was just on my way to do so," he retorted. He glared at me, then quickly
turned his attention to JC. He looked a little surprised by what he saw – well, we
don't have people dressed entirely in black leather in here every day. "Hello," he
greeted her. "She a friend of yours?" he asked me, so that JC couldn't hear. I
shook my head.
"Not really." I tapped the side of my face – my cut was almost healed, but still
slightly visible. Mac nodded, making the connection between what I'd told him
and the girl now standing in front of him.
"Hello," JC replied to Mac. "Nice place."
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry, Richie," she said to me. "Am I getting you in trouble? I probably
shouldn't be talking to you while you're working." She turned to leave, but I
hurried to reassure her.
"No, it's fine," I said. "I can talk."
"He probably wasn't working anyway," said Mac wryly, before turning to head
for the kitchen.
"No more than you were, grease monkey," I called after him. He didn't bother
to reply. "Sorry about that," I said, turning back to JC. She grinned slightly.
"That's ok. So who's he?"
"Oops, I didn't introduce you to da boss. He's Mac – Duncan MacLeod. He's
actually the one in charge – I just look like I am."
"Oh." She paused for a second, then continued, and I sensed she was getting to
the reason she came here. "Say, Richie…do you know Black Jack? You know,
the guy you, um, tried to beat up the other day?"
"Never seen the guy in my life," I answered truthfully. "Why? He a special
friend of yours? If he is, I'd rather not be one of your friends." We both laughed.
"You seemed to know something about him," she said. "You two were talking
about something…some fight, I think. I wasn't really listening. I was trying to
get those ties off." She shook her head. "Maybe I'm imagining things, but it
seemed like you two had something in common." I swallowed. We had been
talking about a fight, in a way – we'd been discussing taking each other's heads.
"Well," I said slowly, trying to think as I talked, "I thought he might have
been…an old boyfriend of a friend of mine…so I asked him if he remembered
something that had happened to that friend. But it turned out he didn't, and so he
wasn't." JC didn't say anything. "So what's he got against you, anyway?" I
asked. She shook her head.
"An old thing…I guess the guy can hold a grudge. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal when he tries to beat you up like that? That would be a deal to
me." She looked away.
"I have to go. I just thought I'd ask. Thanks, Richie."
"Hey, where are you going?" She looked back as she turned to head out the
door.
"Um, out?"
"Will I see you around?" She shrugged and smiled faintly.
"Maybe. We'll see."
"You, I hope," I said, but she was already gone. I wandered back to the desk
and sat on it, shoving the file I had been working on back into the drawer.
"So, that was JC, I take it?" asked Mac, returning with significantly cleaner
hands and a hair tie. I nodded.
"The very same."
"Interesting outfit," he commented. "Those boots must get hot in the summer."
I made a face.
"Why I am glad I am not a girl," I retorted. "I don't have to wear stuff like
that."
"Oh, of course, I've never seen you in anything impractical or remotely
ridiculous. So what was she here for, anyway?" he asked before I had a chance to
reply to his gibe.
"To talk to me. I didn't see her talking to you, did you?"
"Did she say anything about Black Jack?"
"Perhaps, maybe, possibly. In other words, she might have." Mac simply
looked at me until I said, "Yes."
"And just what did she say on that topic?"
"She asked if I knew him. She said it seemed like we had…how did she put
it…something in common."
"Just what did she overhear?"
"She says she didn't hear anything, just something about a fight. That's all."
Mac whacked me with the rag he was carrying before getting up and walking off.
"It's five o'clock, Richie. You can stop playing the owner now." I sighed. My
fun had to end already?
Watching the shop without him around was fun – I always felt like I owned the
place. When customers came in, I was kind of the 'important one.' I was sitting
at Mac's desk, going through some old files, when the little bell over the door
jingled, announcing the arrival of someone in the shop. Getting up from the desk,
I walked over to the door to greet whoever it was, trying to look grown up. (Not
that I wasn't, of course. But it never hurt to add a little effect.) My little effect
dropped, however, when I saw who it was.
"JC!" I said in surprise. She glanced at me quickly, then went back to
inspecting her surroundings. Her gaze traveled over the walls, the displays,
everything she could see, until finally her eyes settled on me. "What are you
doing here?" I asked curiously. "You're not going to run away again, are you?"
She slowly shook her head.
"I'm not planning on it." She took another quick look around, then said
abruptly, "I never got your name." I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted it." One side of her mouth smiled, like
only half of her found it funny.
She didn't seem like she was about to say anything else, however, so I finally
said, "Ok, I'm Richie." She looked me over carefully, like she was comparing
what she saw with the name.
"Richie," she repeated thoughtfully. "You look like a Richie." I made a face.
"I sort of feel like one, too," I retorted. "I hope that's not a problem." Just then
Mac emerged from the back. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair was loose, and
his hands were filthy. "Wash your hands before you come in here," I told him.
"You'll get something dirty."
"I was just on my way to do so," he retorted. He glared at me, then quickly
turned his attention to JC. He looked a little surprised by what he saw – well, we
don't have people dressed entirely in black leather in here every day. "Hello," he
greeted her. "She a friend of yours?" he asked me, so that JC couldn't hear. I
shook my head.
"Not really." I tapped the side of my face – my cut was almost healed, but still
slightly visible. Mac nodded, making the connection between what I'd told him
and the girl now standing in front of him.
"Hello," JC replied to Mac. "Nice place."
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry, Richie," she said to me. "Am I getting you in trouble? I probably
shouldn't be talking to you while you're working." She turned to leave, but I
hurried to reassure her.
"No, it's fine," I said. "I can talk."
"He probably wasn't working anyway," said Mac wryly, before turning to head
for the kitchen.
"No more than you were, grease monkey," I called after him. He didn't bother
to reply. "Sorry about that," I said, turning back to JC. She grinned slightly.
"That's ok. So who's he?"
"Oops, I didn't introduce you to da boss. He's Mac – Duncan MacLeod. He's
actually the one in charge – I just look like I am."
"Oh." She paused for a second, then continued, and I sensed she was getting to
the reason she came here. "Say, Richie…do you know Black Jack? You know,
the guy you, um, tried to beat up the other day?"
"Never seen the guy in my life," I answered truthfully. "Why? He a special
friend of yours? If he is, I'd rather not be one of your friends." We both laughed.
"You seemed to know something about him," she said. "You two were talking
about something…some fight, I think. I wasn't really listening. I was trying to
get those ties off." She shook her head. "Maybe I'm imagining things, but it
seemed like you two had something in common." I swallowed. We had been
talking about a fight, in a way – we'd been discussing taking each other's heads.
"Well," I said slowly, trying to think as I talked, "I thought he might have
been…an old boyfriend of a friend of mine…so I asked him if he remembered
something that had happened to that friend. But it turned out he didn't, and so he
wasn't." JC didn't say anything. "So what's he got against you, anyway?" I
asked. She shook her head.
"An old thing…I guess the guy can hold a grudge. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal when he tries to beat you up like that? That would be a deal to
me." She looked away.
"I have to go. I just thought I'd ask. Thanks, Richie."
"Hey, where are you going?" She looked back as she turned to head out the
door.
"Um, out?"
"Will I see you around?" She shrugged and smiled faintly.
"Maybe. We'll see."
"You, I hope," I said, but she was already gone. I wandered back to the desk
and sat on it, shoving the file I had been working on back into the drawer.
"So, that was JC, I take it?" asked Mac, returning with significantly cleaner
hands and a hair tie. I nodded.
"The very same."
"Interesting outfit," he commented. "Those boots must get hot in the summer."
I made a face.
"Why I am glad I am not a girl," I retorted. "I don't have to wear stuff like
that."
"Oh, of course, I've never seen you in anything impractical or remotely
ridiculous. So what was she here for, anyway?" he asked before I had a chance to
reply to his gibe.
"To talk to me. I didn't see her talking to you, did you?"
"Did she say anything about Black Jack?"
"Perhaps, maybe, possibly. In other words, she might have." Mac simply
looked at me until I said, "Yes."
"And just what did she say on that topic?"
"She asked if I knew him. She said it seemed like we had…how did she put
it…something in common."
"Just what did she overhear?"
"She says she didn't hear anything, just something about a fight. That's all."
Mac whacked me with the rag he was carrying before getting up and walking off.
"It's five o'clock, Richie. You can stop playing the owner now." I sighed. My
fun had to end already?