Rubles was slow, just one guy at the bar, nibbling something that looked like artichoke hearts.
Dmitri walked by, waved at Trina, looked back at the guy.
“Damn, Mark, didn’t even recognize you without a bandana and paint all over you.”
Mark stabbed whatever it was with a fork, swirled it around in some kind of red sauce.
“Taking a day off the masterpiece?”Dmitri asked, noticing Trina shaking her head in warning, but not acting on it.
Mark lifted his fork to his mouth, chewed, grabbed a can of Smoke Delay, and poured some in his mouth while still chewing.
Trina put Dmitri’s Altes on the bar, pulled a pen from her hair, and scribbled “fired” on the bar nap.
Dmitri frowned, turned toward Mark.
Trina grabbed Dmitri’s wrist and squeezed.
Dmitri didn’t want to shut up, but knew that he had to.
He pulled a menu from a rack with his free hand and stared at it, trying to determine which special Mark had ordered.
The breeze from the door opening hit Dmitri up under the ears, and as he turned to see who walked in he heard:
“Black Jesus! You are a hero, my man.”
The guy speaking was Bereford Conner, worked for Parks and Rec.
Trina’s head dropped and she said “Goddammit” toward the bar mats.
Mark shook his head, slowly, deliberately.
“No, not a hero. Unemployed.”
“Temporarily,” Trina piped up. “You’ll get another gig by tomorrow. Guaranteed. I’ll bet you your tab tonight.”
“Hell no, “ Bereford said, “Put Black Jesus’s tab on mine.”
And then Bereford laughed so loud it echoed off the pots on the racks in the kitchen.
Dmitri looked at Trina.”Can I ask any questions yet, or no?”
“Mark painted Black Jesus on the ceiling of that new restaurant on Mack.”
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