Page 42 of Mimosa

“It’s a nickname and the name I go by mostly, Franklyn.”

“Well, Mims, Sonny, get yourself a drink and come outside. We were just about to start the barbeque. There is beer outside, and my wife set up tables for us.”

Sonny set his hand on Mims’s lower back and led him gently to the sliding glass doors that brought them to the back yard.

Nice enough, it was, a lawn, two mastiff dogs playing in a corner, two flower beds with roses and lilies cutting off the stone patio floor from the lawn. Four tables were set up and at least twenty chairs, music playing, and everyone that hadn’t been in the house waved and greeted Sonny.

Mims was used to crowds, sure, but this was different. He was on display in a completely different way than at the pub. There, people came because they liked to be together, and they liked that the bartenders were enjoying the night with them.

This…this was a bunch of terrible people looking to make sure that Sonny was just as terrible as they were. That his new fella couldn’t stop him from that course.

Dizzy from all the introductions, Mims knew he’d never remember all the names, but he tried. Taran and Sonny had already put together a list, but they were also sure Sonny didn’t know them all.

Franklyn and the woman, Marion, gave him a million questions, but they did manage to make it seem like they were just interested in him as a person instead of making it obvious they were grilling him.

He drank a beer as they sat on the lawn together, eating their hamburgers. Sonny leaned in to ask, “You okay?”

“As good as I can be.”

“You’re doing great. I can tell they’ve stopped worrying about you.”

“Really? Why?”

“They asked the questions. You answered well. Sure, you are a thief on the side, but they think you don’t know about them. Youalso didn’t come in here with gold around your neck, bragging about money.”

“That would be stupid.”

“They count on people being uninformed, Mims. We, as cops, count on people not knowing their rights, on them thinking we can throw them in jail without reason. Stupid is a harsh word for it.”

“Sorry, but, who would do that?”

“You have no idea.”

“Wow. Okay.”

A couple came to sit near them as the last of the light left the sky. While he was introduced to them, he barely heard their names, as he knew the time was coming that his family would be risking themselves to get a very expensive painting.

*****

Abs laughed at him, but Haze didn’t care. “I accidentally bleached my other shirt,” he said as he looked down at himself.

The long sleeved back turtleneck had been great for going on jobs, but the huge bleach stains had taken care of that. So, he’d gone last minute to the thrift store down the street and all he could find was an itchy wool sweater. As he absently scratched at his neck, Abs laughed again and said, “Come on. I have something.”

“I would never fit in your clothes, Abs.”

“Not mine. I bought it for my ex the day before I caught him with that ugly bank teller.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that might fit!”

He followed Abs to his room, catching Goldie on the way. “Where did you get that sweater?”

“From hell,” he said as he scratched more.

“I had one when I was a kid that looked like that. Hated that fucking thing.”

“Yeah, I’m burning this thing after.”

Abs’s color in the pub was green, and he loved the color. As their rooms reflected their colors, Abs’s was no different. Besides the black walls he’d painted a couple years back, he had a black duvet over his bed with a soft grass green blanket folded across the bottom with matching green throw pillows across the top.

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