[center][h2]Bugsy and Cornflakes[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2KDIbF6.jpg[/img] [/center] The menu at Vic’s Good Eats was nigh on simple. Still, Abby kept readin’ it again and again. Her eyes took in them words, but ‘er brain jest weren’t payin’ no attention. She read, and read, and read. Alana just up an’ disappeared. Abby tried tah find ‘er, playin’ it smart, usin’ ‘er cortex. None ‘o’ them fru-fru hotels’d tell ‘er nothin’, no matter what kinda lie she concocted. When she finally took wise an’ tried leavin’ a message fer Dr. Alana Lysanger, that’s when she learnt weren’t “no guest by that name” on tha roomin’ list. Short of fleabag flops an’ boardin’ houses, she done wore out tha town’s directory. Hospitals was no better, and gorram tight lipped when it come tah questions ‘bout anyone what used “Dr.” afore their name. That’s when she conjured she’d havta pound pavement. Hours stretched on an’ on, as tha day wore inta afternoon. One kindly nurse pointed ‘er toward tha 27th St. Free Clinic in tha poor district, where all them resort servin’ folk had tah live. Knowin’ Alana’s way ‘o’ helpin’ them’s need it most, she thought she had tha answer at last. But they ain’t seen ‘er. “We’ll pass your message if we do,” they promised. Tha menu still weren’t gettin’ past ‘er thinkin’. [i]Can’t just let ‘er go like that,[/i] some small part ‘o’ Abby cried out. She an’ Alana was gettin’ tight…kinda sisterly kinship she come tah realize had real meanin’. [i]Whatever happened twixt her an’ Cap’n,[/i] she reasoned, [i]ain’t nothin’ can‘t be put right.[/i] Pen didn’t say goodbye. Now, Alana. As she thought on it, her fingers rubbed the bullet, feelin’ tha necklace chain its’ hooked to. [i]Have tah find ‘er,[/i] Abby paid no heed to tha menu. [i]She can’t just…[/i] “You gonna order something, or ya waitin’ for Vic to autograph that menu?” The waitress looked on ‘er with dark eyes all skeptical like. Seemed tah be nearabouts same age as Abby. Her short black hair looked like she just climbed outta bed. Had a faded green apron over denim cutoffs, one hand on ‘er hip as t’other refilled ‘er water glass. Girl wore a tee shirt what read [i][b]That’s a terrible idea! What time?[/b][/i] “Ain’t sussed it out yet,” Abby said. “Well, sweetie, if you want food, you’d better suss real quick. We close in thirty minutes.” In this life, they’s certain unwritten rules. One of ‘em was “Never order food just before closing time.” Abby laid the menu down. “Too late,” she said. “Ain’t gonna have yah dirty up a kitchen’s already bein’ cleaned fer tomorrah.” “Trust me,” the waitress replied, “Vic wants your coin. Whattya havin’?” “Got somethin’ jest warmin’ on tha stove?” “HEY VIC!” the waitress shouted toward the kitchen. “WHAT?” “YOU GOT SOMETHING ON THE WARMER?” “NOODLES!” the proprietor yelled. “I GOT NOODLES!” Abby spoke afore tha waitress could ask. “I love noodles.” The dark haired girl smirked. “That’s a rog. VIC!” “YEAH?” “BOWL OF NOODLES!” She turned back toward her customer. “Ya want any sauce or crackers to go with?” “Sriracha’s good.” “Hells yeah it is,” she give a nod what made the little hook of ‘er nose stand out sorta cute. “Comin’ up!” Abby watched ‘er go, takin’ sight of the girl’s red high tops as she darted behind tha counter. Weren’t more’n two ticks afore she come boundin’ back with a small basket ‘o’ saltines, bottle ‘o’ sauce, and a bowl what’s steamin’ as she laid it on tha table. “Careful, it’s hot,” the waitress cautioned. “Vic scooped all the chicken and carrots outta the pot for you.” “Thank yew,” Abby replied. “Thank yew,” the waitress mimicked her accent. “Thank yew!” She laughed. “I love that! HEY VIC!” “WHAT?” “THIS GIRL’S COUNTRY AS CORNFLAKES! RIGHT OFF THE FARM!” “WHAT FARM?” “I DUNNO WHAT FARM! BUDDHA! YA GOTTA HEAR HER TALK!” “FOR CRYIN’ OUT LOUD, LORRAINE!” the cook groused. “LET HER EAT, WOULDJA?” “Good idea,” Abby’s temper was fixin’ tah smolder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lorraine laughed it off. “Just breakin’ your balls a little. But you’re not from around here, and we’re way off the tourist track, so what’s up, Cornflakes? Why you down here slumming with all us poor slobs?” “I’s across tha street,” she said after shovelin’ a bite down. “At tha clinic.” “Oh yeah?” Lorraine gave a knowing smile. “D’ja get the clap?” “No, dumbass!” Abby come back pissed. “I ain’t got no gorram clap!” “Ha!” the waitress chortled. “Ah ain’t go no gorram clap! Oh, Cornflakes, I love your twang. I could listen to you all day!” Abby fired back. “Bettern’ soundin’ like some sorta half assed ‘wise guy’ mafia capture, I conjure!” “That whatchoo conjure?” Lorraine was genuinely tickled, then chose to pour it on thick. “You come in here, right off the boat, thinkin’ I’m some kinda mook?” Her eyes sparkled as she laid on her own rough hewn urban accent. Abby could see in Lorraine’s eyes tha waitress was jest funnin’, so she let ‘er hackles down. ‘I’s thinkin’ a diff’rent word,” she answered twixt bites. Them noodles was right fine… “Oh yeah?” The server plopped down in a chair opposite her only customer. “Starts with a B? Ends with an ‘itch?” When Abby tapped a finger to the tip of her nose, Lorraine threw back her head and laughed. “I like you, Cornflakes!” “Abby.” “Huh?” “Name’s Abby,” she said with a mouth half full. “Yer cook sure knows ‘is trade.” “Uh huh,” the waitress nodded. “He’s Vic. I’m Lorraine. HEY VIC!” “WHAT?” “CORNFLAKES LIKES YOUR FOOD!” she shouted. “YOU SAY WE’RE OUTTA CORNFLAKES?” “NO! No…oh, fuck it,” she laughed with a toss of her head. “Vic opens at seven…feeds working people breakfast and lunch…’cuz who can afford what they sell the tourists? Am I right?” Lorraine threw out open hands. “Am I right?” Abby shook ‘er head. “Don’t rightly know. Ain’t done no touristin’.” She finished her bowl. “Been lookin’ fer a friend ‘o’ mine ever since Cap’n let me off tha boat. Hey,” she yanked out ‘er cortex once tha idea struck. “Seen a perty blond woman come in tahday? She’s a doctor? Dresses tha part?” The screen glowed with a capture of Alana’s image. Lorraine glanced, then dismissed the picture. “Nope.” Then she smiled. “You’re the cutest thing that’s walked through this door all day.” That’un struck tha deckhand off guard, but she did kinda like tha waitress sayin’ it. “Gitcher eyes checked,” Abby give a smirk. “Speakin’ of, yah know any other sorta free clinics or med stations about? Thinkin’ muh friend would wind up helpin’ at one or t’other.” Lorraine pursed her lips, tapping them with an index finger as she thought. “There’s the Drop Shop,” she offered. “They give junkies clean needles and a safe place to use. They’re always up for medical help. Up 27th,” she pointed the way. “About ten blocks. Don’t get caught up there alone after dark,” she warned. [i]”Dohn mah?”[/i] [i]”Ku.”[/i] Abby put ‘er coin on tha table…cost of a bowl ‘o’ noodles an’ a decent tip fer her as served ‘em up. “Hey, thanks,” Lorraine scooped up the money. “You gotta come here tomorrow for breakfast, Cornflakes! Vic makes these sweet rolls that’ll just knock you right out! And when it comes to coffee, we don’t fuck around.” She gave Abby a teasing smile. “Anyway, I’m not through pickin’ on ya.” That raised a laugh from tha deckhand. “Helluva sales pitch, Bugsy,” she quipped. “I’ll think on it.” Lorraine watched as the girl made her way toward the door. “An offer you can’t refuse?” she chuckled. “Ah heard that!” “WHAT?” Vic shouted from the kitchen.