LOST

“So, what’s wrong?” Manny asked as he opened up a box of new tattoo needles. Alex was busy cleaning the glass of the front door and window above the couch next to it.

“Nothing,” Alex replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Come on. Spill it.”

“It’s nothing,” she said and then sighed, dropping her head. “Me and the guy I’m dating were supposed to have lunch with someone and he didn’t show up.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t know I had to tell you everything,” she said as she continued to clean the glass, kneeling on the seat of the couch.

Manny was half-Samoan, half-Maori, and looked as though he could beat an orangutan in an arm wrestling match. Traditional Maori tattoos covered most of his face, though, his appearance belied his gentle and caring nature. With customers around, he kept an air of intensity, attitude and toughness, but friends knew they could count on him for anything, anytime.

“Why didn’t your boyfriend show? You want me to kick his nono?”

“No. The guy we were supposed to meet.”

“Oh… So… who is this guy? Your boyfriend, I mean.”

Alex wiped the last little bit of window, crumpled up the paper towel she was using, and grabbed the bottle of glass cleaner off the floor in front of the couch. As she walked toward Manny, she did so with a casual aloofness, keeping him in suspense as long as she could.

“Well?”

“You know that film critic at the Charlotte Gazette you hate, Jamison Gilliam?”

“He is too old for you,” Manny said, whipping himself around the counter toward the door. “That pokokōhua. I’m going over there right—”

“Manny!” Alex shouted after him, pointing the spray nozzle of the cleaning bottle at his face. “It’s not him.”

“It’s not?” he replied, already halfway out the door.

“No. You didn’t let me finish, you big goofball. Gilliam’s retiring at the end of this year and his replacement… Stew Kasey… that’s who I’m dating.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve read some of his reviews. He does some of the not-so-blockbuster movies. Scraps and leftovers from whatever Gilliam doesn’t want to do, I suppose. Your boy writes a good review, though. He has good taste in movies. That’s your boyfriend, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“Well, I met him in an alley after he was mugged. He didn’t meet me until a few days later when he woke up from a coma. He got hit in the back of the head.”

“Oh, damn! I remember hearing about that. Ānana. Wow. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this before now? I’m hurt.”

“Give me a break. Anyway, as I was saying, the guy who saved his life was the guy we were supposed to meet for lunch.”

“Damn. That was rude. So, you were there when he woke up and then you fell in love…” Manny said with a chuckle.

Alex rolled her eyes. Manny reached for the backstage pass style ID hanging around Alex’s neck, “Here… give me your nametag. I’m going to change it to Florence Nightingale.”

“Alright, Manny. Enough,” she said as she put the glass cleaner on the shelf behind the counter. “There has been no exchange of those three words. We just started dating.”

“I’m sorry. I was just kidding. You know that. Just don’t forget to send me an invitation to the wedding. Okay?”

Alex promptly slapped him in the back of the head and grabbed the two albums of tattoo art off the counter along with a manila folder full of papers.

“Okay. Okay. Truce,” he laughed. “Hey, if you want to take off as soon as you finish updating those, you can.”

“No. I’ll Stay, Manny. I haven’t got any plans tonight.”

“Well, you’re in a bad mood. I haven’t got but two appointments today. Ginny comes in at four. That’s what… an hour from now? I can handle things until then.”

“Really? Are you sure? I was only here for half an hour.”

“Yes! In fact, I’ll finish the albums. Go. I don’t want you in here with your… vituperations.”

“Vituperations. Wow. That’s a big word, Manny. Is that from the ‘Word of the Day’ calendar I got you for Christmas last year?”

“No,” he said defiantly. “Okay, yeah, it is. Vituperation. Noun. Verbal abuse or castigation; violent denunciation or condemnation.”

“All right. I’ll see you later, then,” she said, laughing as she turned toward the door.

“See ya,” he yelled behind her.

Manny’s tattoo shop, Napalm Ink, sat on the bottom level of a two-story shopping center. A neon ‘open’ sign hung in the window next to various examples of Manny’s work—dragons, skulls, tribals. Above the door was a black sign with white lettering, the quote from Dante’s Inferno, “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” Manny had a twisted sense of humor, but he was very intelligent and well-read. Next door to the right of the tattoo shop was a costume shop. Menacing demons, evil clowns, the usual suspects from the movies—Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers, all set in rubber latex with empty eyes. Alex always found it surprising how much business they did even when Halloween wasn’t looming. To the left, was a metaphysical store called The Broom Closet. The three of them combined for a very odd mixture of customers.

Alex put her sweatshirt jacket on and fumbled in the pocket of it for her keys as she walked towards the corner of the parking lot where her car was parked. Her head down as she walked, she stared at the keys in her hand and thought about Stew. What was it that had brought them together? Chance, fate or coincidence? Whatever it was, she felt very lucky to be—

“Alex,” Marie said from behind, startling her.

“Holy crap! You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Marie put her arms on Alex’s shoulders in an effort to calm her. “Stew said you had to work until seven,” she said, confused.

“Manny let me off early. What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No. No. I was just looking for Wiz. Have you seen him?”

“Hmph. He was supposed to meet me and Stew for lunch today and he stood us up. If you find him, tell him he has some explaining to do.”

“That’s weird. I’ll tell him, though. Where are you headed now?”

“I thought about going to the movies, but I think I’ll just go home. I’ve got some homework to do. Besides that, Stew and I are going out tomorrow. He may want to go to a movie. He hasn’t said.”

“Well, he probably wouldn’t want you being out by yourself after dark, anyway.”

“I can take care of myself better than you think I can, Detective.”

“I know. Just be careful. Okay?”

“Okay. Hey… let me know if you find Wiz.” Alex’s eyebrows suddenly got closer together and pointed up toward the center of her forehead. “I’d hate to have thought he stood us up if something…”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Alex. And I’m sure he has an explanation. But I’ll call you.”

Alex nodded and walked to her car. Marie hated keeping secrets from people who would benefit from knowing them, but Wiz thought it was for the best at this point. Whether or not he was right, she couldn’t say.