The Pretentious Bootlegger

(the creative writing half hour of power. my important games article will be updated hopefully within the week. thank you for your cooperation~)

Day by day, Roger had never even thought about the possibilities that awaited every day when he went to work. He stood behind the counter, serving coffee and light food to any customer who waltzed in off the streets. Mostly, it was police officers; in uniform or out of it, it didn't matter, they seemed to flock to this little cafe with regularity. Two men whom Roger had come to recognize quite easily, Detective Shrinker and his right hand man, Ogilvy. They would always walk casually through the door at around 3 PM and come right to the counter, order two large cups of the house roast, black, and go sit in the booth by the left corner. Ogilvy, on occasions, would order a slice of pie to go with this coffee, Detective Shrinker never got anything other than his large black. They were both intimidating men, Shrinker especially; he was taller than Roger by about three inches, had dark brown eyes and a square jawline. His face was always decorated with light stubble.

Ogilvy's intimidation factor came from his incredibly weaselly looks. He was short and thin with unkempt hair and beady blue eyes. He looked like he was ready to do absolutely anything at any time; an unattended live wire. Shrinker had once told Roger that "yes, he is a bit eccentric...but he understands things that no one else does."

Roger got to the cafe around 12 AM for his shift, coming in out of the rain. It was a calming rain, that gentle rain that predates the coming of summer. The radio weatherman had mentioned that the rainy weather would stick around all day and evening, possibly clearing up later that night. He hung his leather coat in the staffroom and took a minute in the bathroom to clean his face and comb his hair properly. He'd awoken late and was in a rush that morning.

As he walked out and took his spot behind the counter, putting a fresh pot of coffee on, he saw that at that moment, not a single customer was in the store. He poured the last of the older pot into a cup for himself, throwing a bit of sugar and a dash of cream into it, stirring it with a spoon. He took a sip and turned to the kitchen.

"How are the sweets coming along, Mike? And where's Shauna?"

A few seconds of silence followed before a voice resounded back from the kitchen area.

"I'll be out with them in a few minutes, man. Make sure the display's cleaned out so I actually got room for 'em today. Uh, Shauna stepped out for a few. Said she was gonna go down the street and grab a magazine while the store was dead. Figured if anyone came in, I could take care of 'em."

"Alright."

Roger opened up the back of the glass display case next to the cash register. It was relatively clean already, just a few old pieces of paper for the sweets and goodies to rest on. He grabbed them, crumpled them into a bunch and tossed them into a nearby garbage can. He laid out fresh paper in all the spots as the door opened, ringing the bell attached to it.

An average looking girl wearing a short jean skirt and a white top walked in, holding an umbrella in her left hand and a plastic bag in the other. She smiled as Roger peaked up from behind the counter, putting her bag on the ground and pulling out a magazine and a small bottle of Pepsi.

"Hey, you're here, eh? Not like it matters, there still aren't any customers. Weird, isn't it?" she said to Roger, who nodded as Mike came from the kitchen holding a tray of baked goods. As the female walked behind the counter, he placed her drink and magazine near the register and folded her umbrella up, putting it in the staff room. She tied her long brown hair back into a ponytail and joined the other two in bringing the baked goods out of the kitchen, helping Roger with putting them in the display. The whole ordeal took a few minutes, after which the three stood and talked.

"So Shauna...I was wondering if I could get a few days the end of next week off. It's actually kind of important." Roger posed the question with absolute care. Shauna was, despite her niceness, a rather strict employer. She looked at him for a second, then put her head down and tapped her foot rhythmically on the floor.

"What days?"

"Just Saturday and Sunday. My family's having a little get together with my new brother in law's family. My sister joked that she'd kill me if I didn't show, though I don't think it was much of a joke." Shauna looked up at him again and eyed him inquisitively. She grinned.

"You're actually telling the truth, aren't you? Most of the time either of you two ask for time off, you're making it up...I'll be able to find someone to fill in for you, yeah. Don't worry about it."

On Tuesdays, it was usually like this. Not many customers, especially early in the morning. Around 1, some people, mostly cops, would come in and order some coffee, sit around for about a half hour and then get back to their patrols. Tuesday had one regular customer, a man named Tim Brown who worked across the street at a small jewelry shop. He would come over, wearing the same brown suit each day (Roger had once guessed he owned five pairs of the same suit) and order two things; a medium cup of the house roast with some cream and a chocolate Danish. He'd sit down, eat the Danish and drink the coffee in about ten minutes; never chatting with any of the employees at the counter while he made his order and disappear as fast as he'd came in.

Around 1:30, the door opened and that familiar brown suit walked in, today holding a brown leather suitcase in his left hand. He adjusted his glasses with his free hand and walked up to the counter.

"Oh, hey. Same as usual today?" Roger asked.

"Uh, no thanks. Not today, I'm actually in the mood for something a bit different." Roger was a bit stunned. After a few seconds, Tim spoke again.

"Same coffee, please. I'm kind of tired of the Danish, though. Let me take a quick look, alright? Thanks."

Tim started scanning the sweets display, looking for something that would catch his eye. After around a half minute of deliberation, he decided that he'd go with a slice of apple pie today. He fetched some money out of his wallet, paid for his two items, received them and sat in his usual spot. That was the most Roger had ever heard the man speak at one time.

Ten minutes later, Tim got up and wiped at his face with a napkin. He brought his cup and plate up to the counter, unusual behavior for himself. He placed them near the register and also threw a few dollars down as a tip for the staff. He smiled at Roger.

"That's real damn good pie, kid. Tell your baker that I'm impressed." Roger was a bit too dumbfounded to respond back properly, so he just nodded his head and smiled back at Tim. Tim went back to his spot for a second, grabbed the briefcase and walked out the door. Already, this was becoming a day that was firmly out of the ordinary. It was to get stranger.

Tuesdays were the only weekday were the pair of Shrinker and Ogilvy did not show. None of the staff could surmise why that would be, but never did the duo appear on a Tuesday.

At a few minutes after 3 PM, Ogilvy walked in through the door, wearing a cream colored sweater and a baseball cap. His shoes were caked in mud. He came up to the counter.

"Hey kid. Uh, tell me...you ain't seen my buddy around here, eh? You know who I mean, right?" he asked Roger, with some nervousness pervading his voice. He swallowed heavily as he waited for the answer.

"No, I haven't. I never see either of you two on Tuesdays, ever. What's the matter?"

"Oh...uh, nothing. Just wondering. We're actually both off duty on Tuesdays, but we were agreeing to meet today, here. Just like usual, really. Can I get my usual?" Ogilvy's eyes were darting around as he spoke to Roger. He seemed more high strung than usual. He paid for his items and took his spot in the left corner, sipping his coffee quietly and only eying his slice of pie.

Quarter after, Roger remembers it well, he happened to be glancing at the clock when Detective Shrinker walked in through the door. He looked like he always did, large and powerful. His stubble was present and he was dressed in his usual fare. His shoes, too, were caked in mud. Had the rain picked up outside? Roger wanted to ask, but Shrinker didn't come to the counter, he only went to the corner and sat down with his partner. He was staring across the booth's table at him. Ogilvy, however, was still eying the slice of pie he had bought. Shrinker's voice was hushed as he spoke, and Ogilvy responded in kind. Roger couldn't make out their conversation.

They were there quite a while. It was almost 4 PM when finally Shrinker took the pie, ate it himself, and the two stood up. They left, unceremoniously. Roger felt a strange surrealism in the air, like none of this had ever happened. Or if it did, it happened in some strange alternate dimension. The next three hours were just a hazy, undirected dream. Roger left at 7, grabbing his coat from the staff room and bidding farewell to Julie, who'd came in around 6 to run the store's night shift. Shauna and Mike had already gone, although Roger couldn't quite piece together when. Everything since that slice of pie disappeared, courtesy of Detective Shrinker had made little objective sense. It was...it was too strange.

Oddly enough, it had stopped raining.