Chapter 8: Breakfast
Opening the door, he caught the muted bell being held in place with duct tape. He came to the recognition that the bell stood for a metaphor for this town, held together with duct tape. Or still half drunk and blood sugar too low; he was thinking all kinds of weird crap. He scratched his scruffy cheeks, trying to remember the last time he slept, or showered. That would be the next order of business after some much-needed tuck.
Determined not to run and hide, he sat at the bar, staring Junior straight in the eye, he ordered, “Bangers and mash,” an afterthought, “please.”
Junior simply raised an eyebrow, handed him a menu, and moved down the bar to begin mixing some concoction.
Scanning over the menu it seemed in Texas there was something close to what he would call a proper English Breakfast. Called ‘A Heart Attack on a Platter’, which included sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried green tomatoes, toast with butter, Bar-b-que beans, and hash browns. He decided he was more than a little hungry.
Junior surveyed Trevor’s skinny frame and handed him a glass, filled with what appeared to be blood, but which he soon found was a hotter-than-hell high-octane Bloody Mary. Junior chuckled a little as he waited for Trevor’s reaction, which was muted considering he loved Indian food: The hotter, the better. Whether meant as a joke or hazing or a test, Junior seemed satisfied and left to start preparing Trevor’s meal.
Once Junior left, Trevor gave the slightest shiver, as the strength and heat of the drink seeped into his body, like a hot knife through butter. By the time the first of his breakfast was arriving he was feeling almost human and the events of the early morning hours quickly fading into memory.
While eating, using his own code, he jotted down the plan for the events of the upcoming days on a napkin. Grunting approval as he shoveled in the food. During one of the passes, Junior set a cup of black coffee in front of him then went back to work. Trevor gave a quick, “Thanks, Mate,” around the half-chewed piece of sausage.
Finishing breakfast, he had the notion some gravy would’ve gone well, with that, “That was one of the best English Breakfasts I have ever had. What do I owe you?”
Junior simply slid him the check, took his money and the tip. As Trevor was leaving, he overheard Junior starting to clear up after the meal.
Watching him cross the road you would’ve thought he was Montgomery marching through Tunisia. A man on a mission, and first step on that mission was to rouse Cuff and Link and partake in a blistering hot shower.
Bounding up the stairs, Trevor burst into the shared room. Displaying more energy than he should, he walked in on, Cuff and Link sharing a queen size bed, cuddling in their sleep.
The sound startled them out of their slumber. Cuff, visible from the door expressed shock and embarrassment. Ignoring the two he walked by his unslept-in bed, heading for the bathroom, talking as he stripped, “You two up and at ’em. I have a plan for the day and I need you ready to work as soon as the bank and town hall opens.”
Cuff and Link looked at one another, the unslept bed then waited... contemplating both. There was, after all, only one bathroom. Trevor continued to talk around his toothbrush, giving a garbled rendition of his plan.
“Cuff, you go to town hall, research any properties close to town the larger the better. Also, check out some of these empty buildings, find out the owners and if they are listed. Link, head to the bank. Check that our money has cleared and open an account. See if you can find a list of the bank properties for sale. It will take longer than a cash sale, but we might need to go that way.”
While shaving, “I’ll see if I can find us an empty storefront, and check on the package.” He started singing in the shower, and the two bodyguards closed the door to help drown out the sound.
Shortly the door was thrown open, with steam pouring out of the bathroom. Towel encased, Trevor moved to dress. One by one Cuff and Link made their way to the bathroom.
Trevor selected a rather dapper, fashionable dark blue sharkskin suit. He was sure to stand out like a porcupine in a nudist colony, West Texas was never going to be the same.