The bookstore awning had fallen in due to the build up of rain. First 8 days of the bloomin’ month and the precipitation total for the month had been reached, never mind the thunder, lightning and hail. Speare chuckled, his Dad always told him that thunder was just Thor’s chariot rattling the heavens.
Cool aside on Thor’s goats, they were great to have around for he could kill and eat them, as long as he laid out the bones on the pelt’s each night they would regenerate. Loki played a trick, and snapped a leg bone one night, so the one goat always had a limp.
But Sax had more answers to this twisting charade. It was where Shades redirected him after almost blowing his head off in MacCurtis’ office. Thankfully she let him go before the police showed up and sent him to a cell again. The question that kept reverberating in his mind, there seemed to be a deeper knowing of this murder victim by the name of Reesa, but nothing she would reveal to him.
Sax was trying to hit the Hollywood seen with the display window, as Speare pulled his ball cap down to keep the rain off. Robert Ludlum’s Bourne books. The originals were great, unfortunately since Van Lustbader took over they lost that essential pinnace that made them work. Also the graphic novels of Suicide Squad—the New 52 take was excellent, except for Amanda Waller, re-imagining her as a super model tough bitch kinda sidelined her character, hard to take tough as nails seriously when you know the villain is trying to mind fuck her…ah but he has collections up of the original John Ostrander run and the Rebirth single that brought back the true Waller…the best of both worlds.
That was the eclecticness of Sax’s shop to meet all generations of readers to hit their understanding of the hero, no matter how wrong Speare thought it was.
Sax was elbow deep in book cart shelving the top ten best seller shelf, unlike other stores that used a system where publishers could purchase a spot for release, Sax used an algorithm for internet sales that his partner Natan had designed. So this little indy store actually had an accurate top ten reflection, which baffled publishers with his stock ordering.
“Speare how can I help my insomniac book-a-holic friend, new James Rollins is in.”
Speare shakes his head. “Na, when his books were around 400 pages he was good in the quasi-ancient history conspiracy theory genre, but since making it big and having the co-writer series, he has become pedantic. Although make sure you save a copy of the new Jesse Stone by Coleman, that man is channeling Parker’s ghost for sure.” Sax laughed at this quick assessment, Speare was an enigma to him, hard to know where he came from.
The crow’s feet in Speare’s eyes told a different story. There was a burden on this man’s heart, was he able to break through the fog? Was something coming through that nobody was sure about? “Come to me all who are burdened and weary and I will give you rest.”
“Jesus complex now Sax, seriously?”
“Na, hubby bats for the other team y’know that. Any who, what is troubling you Speare?” Sax moves to a coffee nook and pours two cups.
Speare takes one, and sips. The beauty of caffeine re-entering his system allowing for his mind to calm a little. A simple mindfulness practice that aids in quieting the noise around, the enhanced flurry of data from the world around.
Speare scratches his whiskers as he looks at his long time friend, it suddenly hit him how weird it is that a professional thug (ala Spenserism) would have such a close compatriot that ran a bookstore. “What aren’t you telling me Sax?”
Her lips brushed his ear. A little giggle.
Bullets zing past as the jeep tears over dessert terrain.
“This is where we live up to the name Martyr’s ya Sexy Beast.”
“Prophets and Martyrs play for keeps but by different rules.” Sax said.