If you ever saw something that you were sure you imagined or heard a sound that no one else did - then you know what it's like to attend a show starring the Novaks.
"A magical act so spectacular, it had to be real."
An oh so common statement after...
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Vodka, rum, gin and tequila. Dallas shook this concoction in his cocktail shaker and then poured it into a Collins glass. A cola floater and lemon wedge on top to finish it off. August knew it was just about noon as this was Dallas's first Long Island of the day.
August sat in the corner, tapping his finger on his chin. The only thing that was moving faster than his finger was his mind.
"Still poutin' over there, kid?" Dallas asked.
"Pouting?" August couldn't believe Dallas. "Someone died because of me."
"I didn't say you shouldn't be pouting. I just asked if you were."
August rubbed his temples. "I need to do something."
"Always good to do something. Just don't do something stupid."
Even when August disagreed with Dallas, he would listen to him. Lately, Dallas's words would go in one ear and out the other. "His wife was so sad at the hospital. It was crushing to hear her cry. And it's all my fault."
Dallas lit up a cigarette. "It wasn't. Not all of it, at least."
This caught August's attention. "Who else is at fault?"
Dallas took a drag of his cigarette. "Your employer."
August shook his head in disagreement. "It was a stealth mission. Yes, I know, 'I am running around in a damn cape.' Still, my orders were to look for illegal activity, undetected! I did a poor job of vetting the place. It's on me."
"I don't see it quite the same way but sure, kid. Regardless, I like how focused you are on making this right, instead of just crying about it."
August went back to ignoring Dallas. "His wife mentioned he loved the lion enclosure. I could make a donation in his name. An anonymous one."
Dallas blew his cigarette smoke into the air. "Good luck getting that approved."
August waved the smoke away. "I have money."
"Ah. The only good thing about Precinct Zero, the paychecks."
August smacked his hand on his leg, and when August made a noise, it was a loud one. He had enough with Dallas. "You know, not all retired investigators are old drunks like you. Some retire heroes, and not ones that wear capes. Celebrated men and women. They visit our headquarters. I've seen them. They are happy."
Dallas took a long sip of his Long Island. He slowly slurped the drink into his mouth. Loudly and, very intentionally, obnoxiously. "Good for them."
August began tapping his finger on his chin again. "How much should I donate?"
"On behalf of a guy you killed? How the hell should I know?" Dallas threw his arms in the air. "$50,000."
"Okay." August nodded his head. "That should work."
