ZIG-ZAG, Surtsey Ana [suggested reading txt] 📗

you so it follows that I don't care about you, your drama, your girlfriend, or your sad, pathetic life. Like I said . . . shoo!"

"I know you've always hated me, but you can't fire me."

"Fire you?"

"I have responsibilities."

I fold my arms across my chest. "What makes you think I'm going to fire you?"

"Now the chief's gone, Matt's gone, I'm naked and at your mercy."

I close my eyes. "Bad image! I don't need to be thinking about you naked. You've just ensured that I keep you around just so I can garner your wages to pay my therapy bills."

"So, you're not going to fire me, then?"

"Of course I'm going to fire you. I wrote it in my journal: Note to self; fire Munchkin."

"Munchkin?"

I point. "That'd be you."

"My name's Dave, and you can't fire me."

Internally I'm giggling my nuts off. "Sure I can, but here's the thing, Dave. New job, new responsibilities - I've got a lot going on right now. You and your career are not my priority right now.  At some point I'll see you, and I'll remember to fire you – stay off my radar is probably your best tactic for a stay of execution."

He takes a coupe of steps away before making a 180 degree turn. "One other thing."

"Out with it."

"Your mother called. I said you'd call her back."

 

2.1 ALL HAIL THE CHIEF

 

So, I'm the new chief, and we're out celebrating that fact – on a school night, to boot. Who knew?" Vi and I clink glasses.

"Halle-fuckin-lujah! Mark a big fat one for us in the win column. This major strike for us superheroes," announces Vi. "Girlfriend, it's you and I against the world."

I glance over her shoulder at the others, returning with another round of drinks. "It's not just you and I on this mission. It's you, me, Cindy, and Jazz. It's all of us. We all fight the good fight. One second – " I check a new text on my phone and the shock of what see on the screen grips me. The phone slips from my hand.

"Are you okay?" asks Vi.

"Sure. Fine." I reply, stooping to retrieve the phone. "Cindy, I need to speak with you." I head out of the front door.

Cindy, beer bottle in hand, joins me on the sidewalk. "What's up?"

I show her the message. "I thought he was locked up?"

"The DA dropped the charges. He was released this morning."

"So he's going to get away with what he did to me? How does that happen? Why would the DA drop the charges?"

Cindy frowns, theatrically portraying confusion. "FFS. You need to make up your mind. You wanted it all to go away – it went away. How much more jelly do you want on that? How about you just say, thank you Cindy?"

"I don't get it. What would make the DA just dismiss the charges like that?"

She maintains her confused expression. "Because I told her to."

"Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that." She swigs from her bottle. "Your boss, the congressman, doesn't he do what you tell him to do?"

"Yes, but –" I start my reply but can think of no words. She was right.

A bouncer approaches. "Ladies, I'm going to have to take the bottle or you're going to have to go back inside. You can't have an open container on the street. We'll lose our license."

"Sorry. It's done anyway." Cindy hands the empty bottle to the bouncer.

He ushers us back inside.

I'm thinking as I walk. Cindy was right. Her boss, my boss, all our bosses do exactly as they're told.

I remain relatively quiet for the remainder of the evening, drinking and thinking. "We need to take a group selfie," I announce eventually.

I show the picture of the four of us to my three friends. "You see these women," I slur. "They are the puppet masters. They run this shit."

Jazz laughs at me. "What shit is that, exactly?"

"All of it . . .  this . . . DC . . . the motherfucking country."

"I think she's had enough," says Vi.

"But we're women of power!"

"I wish. I don't have the power to balance my checkbook," Jazz giggles.

"But the Butcher amendment got repealed. We won by nine votes. How'd that happen, huh? The whip count said we'd lose but we got it done. I told my guy to change his mind about that shit." I point to Vi. "You told your guy to back up my guy." I turn my attention to Jazz. "And you told your guy it's about time he did some bi-partisan shit."

"True," Jazz agrees, "But that's only three votes."

"You know how they work, turn a couple and the rest follow," I say. "And Cindy, my girl played her part."

Cindy attempts to silence me. "Let's talk about that here."

"She did good," I continue. "The one from Milwaukee the good hair and the one with bank manager's eyes, threatened them both with Grand Juries, campaign finance violations."

Vi offers Cindy a high-five. "I always knew you were some kind of closet gangster."

"What are bank manager's eyes?" asks Jazz.

"You know . . . where one eye is looking in a different direction," I reply.

"Oh, him," says Vi.

Jazz shakes her head. "The bank manager part – I don't get it."

"It's what my dad always called them," I reply. "I think it's because . . . I think the idea is that even when the bank manager is talking to you he's got one eye on the safe."

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Publication Date: 05-06-2019

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