The Disillusionists cont'd...

We stood there for several moments, an odd sickly sensation formed in my gut - an unidentified fear, helplessness, the creeping desire hold back the ravages of time. A sudden realization that I didn't listen to people when they talked, as May was doing now, "...I got to a point where I thought, I'm just going to do it, you know? I've been trying to make money for so long with the shop and everything but now it's time to take a bit of a break... do something for myself. I mean, I don't regret it - I learned a lot but I don't know. Filling up a shipping container in Malaysia just isn't the same adventure anymore."

I didn't push for any details, mainly because I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. I tried to be helpful and said something stupid - "That sounds like a great plan... You must have built up a lot of connections. Let me know if you need any help." May looked at me funny, like I hadn't been listening at all. I'm a lot smarter in my head than I am talking. May didn't answer. We just stood there, looking at the roofs of the houses that were originally built for distillery labourers. Who could afford to live there now? Not a distillery worker. Not us.

Later we met Mike at a restaurant downtown. Mike said he liked to meet in restaurants because it made him feel in control. "Volume was a powerful tool in public," he said, "both for emphasis and for the stifling of ideas... Also, I never cook for myself if I can help it."

We were in CORPS, some kind of post-noir poseur piss pot. The place was packed. There was one other dude with a trucker hat on. We sat near the window but away from the door. Mike was picking his nails while I talked, like he was the crown prince of Azerbuju.

"...so yeah, I've got a little time so I thought, why not?"

"How much time?"

"I don't know, three months?"

"Three months?" Mike rolled his eyes at May, "Is that all? I'm talkin' about a year!"

"A year?"

"Yeah. A year."

I shrugged, "I don't even have any lines..."

"How do you know that?"

"How do I know what?"

"That you don't have any lines?" He sat up straight, "Who knows what direction this thing might take."

"A year..." I looked at the floor.

"Aw fuckit, I was just fuckin' with ya." May laughed but I didn't find it funny. Mike continued, "Look, there are a lot of details to work out and there's only five of us so we all have to pull our own weight."

"Where are the other two?" I asked.

"I gave 'em the day off." Mike reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out my wallet. "Here. You must have left this in my car last night."

"Damn!" I thought out loud, I didn't even notice it was gone...