Page 53 of The Man with a Treasure

Angelo’s jaw twitched. “Let’s see how offensive being fired is.” He gave me a glare that also warned, ‘shut it’.

I would’ve had a rebuttal, but I was too busy avoiding the sloshing beer mug being set in front of me by some woman who appeared to blend perfectly with the questionable environment.

Surprised to find cocktail napkins on the table, since cleanliness was clearly not a priority for the employees nor owner, I grabbed one and dabbed the table to avoid the now wet table from soiling my jacket and lap. “Forgive my rudeness, I am just hungry and believe my expensive rental car may now need an alignment due to all the potholes I hit on the dirt road that led us here,” I set the drenched napkin aside at the end of the table where I was positive it would stay, “to your fine establishment.”

The tattooed and leathered, foul man chuckled through his missing teeth. “Can’t help about the holes but can get you a Special.” He waved his hand in the air to a lovely—scary—barmaid, unleashing a horrid wave of odor that seemed to come from his armpit. “I see why no one thinks you two are cops.”

“Cops?” I laughed. “Would a cop ask you for your best bottle of red wine?”

The man lifted an unmanicured brow. “No. They prefer to blend. Not stick out like a sore thumb.”

Eying his thumb gripping his cloudy beer mug, I said, “That’s the thing about rich men. They do not need to blend.” I pushed away the beer with floating debris.

“Speaking of money, let me see some cash.”

Angelo, with a gesture, told me to reveal the envelopes. I set them on the table in front of the man. “The one on top is for your troubles. The thicker one below is for you if you come through.” The fucker actually palmed both. “And the Magnum I am palming under the table is for the two different men in this bar that have been watching us the whole time. They will ruin your chance for easy cash.”

Angelo growled at the man, “Are you trying to fuck me over?”

A black tooth was exposed as the man smiled, lifting his palms. “I was just going to open them and inspect. Cool?”

That was a lie, but Angelo let him have it. “Sorry. Been a long day.”

“No problem. I’ve got the girl out back.”

That was another lie, and a disheartening one. Angelo and I had already inspected the surroundings when we arrived, and all that was ‘out back’ was a field where he could shoot us and keep the money. Damnit. A dead-end.

As the man examined the cash, he asked, “How long have you been searching?”

Angelo, also well aware this was a fruitless attempt, exhaled, “Too long.” I had to fight a cringe as he took a swig of the beer, then ran a hand over the short beard he’d grown, looking as if thinking, before telling him, “All I want is a raw wildcat. Ya know? A woman that would rock my world with her lack of knowledge and discipline.”

Although I knew it was all an act, Angelo sounded so convincing I almost believed him myself. He was on to something. That gut of his was talking, and he was listening.

I watched as he reached for the money, claiming, “Any girl you have ‘out back’ is not the one I am looking for.” He left the man the thin top envelope. “For your time.”

The man didn’t try to keep both envelopes but studied Angelo. “Wild, you say, huh?”

Angelo shrugged. “I suppose it is only a dream, one that will never come true.”

“And a mil’ for the right girl?”

Angelo sighed. “Such a small price for a dream.”

“Could you up the hundred if I came through?”

“I’d double it.”

The man stayed quiet as his little pee-brain worked. “I’ll be right back.” He left the booth, pulling a cellphone from his cringy jean pocket, and walked out the back door.

Just then, two baskets overflowing with French fries and the greasiest burgers ever known to man were placed in front of us.

“Thank you,” Angelo said, handing the woman a twenty.

I said nothing. I was in utter shock Angelo offered cash for the horror-in-a-basket dinner.

“Don’t be such a snob.” He took a bite.

“Snob? How about simply having a desire to live past forty? I can literally hear your arteries clog as you chew that mutilated cow clothed in stale bread and fake American cheese.”