Page 2 of Gold Rush
Goldie rolled his eyes, which always annoyed Abs. The skinny little blond rolled his so much, Goldie was shocked they were still in the sockets, but let someone do it to him…
“I don’t have your huge muscles and tight bubble butt. I need the clothes to do the work for me.”
He could never stay annoyed with his friend. “Fine, how about some jeans, a casual shirt, not a lot of makeup.”
His jaw dropped over that.
“Just so you don’t stand out in anyone’s mind. And you don’t want to draw the attention of anyone who is watching CCTV in the area, either.
“This could be a problem. I always stand out, even when I’m not dressed for success. I’ll go see what I have. Say, I can ask one of the other guys for their boring clothes.”
Goldie wanted to warn him to be nice, but none of the guys minded when Abs dissed their clothes. In fact, he’d helped them all dress better during the weekend shifts, so their tips got better.
He, on the other hand, rarely wore anything except muscle shirts and jeans. He was a big man, and he just wasn’t comfortable in anything else.
Sure, sweats or shorts to work out, dressier stuff when he had a date. That has been rare lately. He hadn’t had a date for a month, hadn’t had anything resembling a boyfriend in over a year.
He was busy, though, so he didn’t notice much, at least until he got into bed and felt all that empty space next to him…
As he ordered a rideshare, Abs met him out front of the pub.
Murphy’s Pub was a great place to live and work. All the guys lived on the second and third floors of the building and worked a shift alone during the week. On the weekends, however, was when they shined, all working as a team, putting on shows with their masterful handling of the liquor bottles and dancing behind and even on top of the bar.
Abs came out of the double doors wearing a plain blue T-shirt and black jeans. No makeup or even nail polish. Goldie was a little shocked, and it must have showed.
“I’m getting a mani/pedi tomorrow, so I had to clean off my nails, anyway.”
“Right. Well, you still stand out in a crowd, babe.”
He leaned into his friend and giggled a little. “Thanks.”
They got dropped off four blocks from where they needed to go, but he never dropped closer than that. Often, they asked him why he even used ride shares to stake out places, and his answer was simple. “No license plates to copy that are mine, and I havefive different accounts for my ride shares on my phone, so the name is never the same.”
He could use Murphy’s SUV, or rent a car, of course, and he had done both, but for him, nothing was better than walking a place.
Walking, he got to sense the place. How the ground felt, the air circulating around the buildings and trees, the way the place smelled, like if there were nearby greasy spoons or gas stations.
Anything public was good. They could blend in, be part of the crowd, a part of the flow of foot traffic that was the true heartbeat of any city. They could be just a group of friends who were heading to the bar for a beer or two and some laughs. Anything that could make them invisible, because he told people to face it. In a city, invisibility was assured.
After thanking the driver, they walked along the sidewalk on a street in the north area of the city. The people dressed differently, spoke differently than those downtown, which Goldie knew well. He’d walked and driven nearly every street in the city and surrounding areas.
There were less unnatural hair colors, less painted nails on men, but that didn’t mean people were uptight about it. The upper suburbs were simply more working-class people just getting through their days, unable to express themselves like those in the center of the city did.
There was less art, on people or on the streets, but they were kind, friendly. Except when they got behind the wheel of their cars, where they turned into raging psychopaths with good reason.
Already, Goldie took mental notes of burger joints and a bowling alley, two car washes and a tire shop. Down the street a few blocks, he knew there was a huge hardware store, and a strip mall with more chain stores.
It was perfect.
“What is up here, of all that you mentioned?” Abs asked as he checked out a homeless man who was bare-chested and flying a sign on the corner of the main drag.
“Really, Abs?”
“He’s got a nice body, okay?”
“Whatever,” he laughed. “This is the place with the gold coins. A guy up here who owns one of these strip malls also owns two apartment buildings that haven’t been up to code in thirty years. Rats the size of Harleys. He buys new gold coins every month after he collects the rent on all his of properties. He never puts a dime in them unless they're one of the better businesses he rents to, then he puts in some effort.”
“That’s why I love you,” Abs chimed. “You are a social justice warrior while you rob people blind.”
