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It just so happened that just like the entire timeline of their lives, Max followed Sam onto this career path. Or perhaps it was the other way around but it didn’t really matter. In the moment New York was as loud and noxious as always and they were nearly done with moving into their new office.
It was located on a street known as the Straight and Narrow and moving the furniture around took entirely too long. This was a curse that afflicted anyone that moved anywhere and though Sam was rather careless with where the furniture landed it still went on too long. Max complained enough to fill the silence as he got his own garbage suited out.
A proper desk already stained with coffee rings was put into place for Sam, prime for more scuffs if Max ever decided to carve his artwork into the wood. Max had his own little desk parked nearby. A rotary phone was set up nearby the desks and for a rudimentary finishing touch a couch for clients was brought in. A greenish stain was on one of the cushion but Sam flipped it over.
Their tiny apartment nearby already had some needed furnishings. Even if the refrigerator screamed or the stove didn’t always light properly. They had found bunk beds on the streets and it seemed like a good enough touch for their living arrangements. There was nothing dead on them which meant they were leagues above what was normally found in furniture rotting on New York streets.
Max did find a tooth in one of the mattresses but that was easily tossed away. Otherwise, Sam could imagine going around pestering their new neighbors for a cup of sugar. Or in their case a cup of bullets. It seemed more cost effective.
When they were done the sky was stained pink and orange like sherbet, probably the only beautiful sight to be found in New York. And even then the smog choked out the colors.
Sam surveyed the office, nodding that there were still empty spaces but they would manage. The window on the office door was probably the cleanest thing in the room, the frosted letters declaring their Freelance Police business in a proper, in-your-face way. Max’s stomach growled and he flopped onto the floor like he was dying of hunger.
Sam ignored the theatrics and fixed his unraveling tie. Suit coats like what he was wearing was timeless, more so than plaid, grungy baby-doll dresses or whatever the hell skorts were. Sam pulled Max up to his feet by his ears and pushed him forward to lead the way.
They didn’t have much food at the moment so something greasy and lard-covered would have to suffice. And it would be good to get to know the inner organs of their new home. When they got outside the air was so cold it smelled like wine which was a massive improvement for what New York usually smelled like, which was a mixture of fetid garbage and cadavers.
While trying to find a place that catered to their appetites they passed by an electronics store. Huge stacks of state of the art CRT televisions were placed in the front window. It was pretty astounding that televisions could get that huge and would probably rot people’s eyes right out of their skulls.
Sam stopped walking and stared at the televisions. His paws were stuffed in his pockets as he watched the screens, transfixed by what flickered against the orange-red, burnt light of the sun that went against the shiny store window.
In a black and white tandem all of the televisions showed a rerun of Casablanca. Rick had a drink in his hand and the other slammed against the table as he bemoaned Ilsa walking into his gin joint in all the ones that existed in the entire world. Every year he had hung off his face.
Sam’s gaze was only turned away by Max running back up to him. Max seemed to get it when he saw what was playing. He indulged Sam to watch as much as he wanted until a commercial break occurred. A loud and garishly colored political campaign played across the screens. Then Sam was more than willing to let Max grab him by the paw and lead him away from the televisions.
A question burned in Sam’s mind as they walked. “Max, would you have stayed at the bar or would have you gotten on the plane?”
Max threw his head back and groaned. “Not this again, Sam. I told you a million times, that’s a stupid question. I would stay with you.”
Sam shrugged, thinking that once again Max didn’t really get the question. Or maybe he did. It was difficult to tell with him.
Max let go of his paw to go climb on the newspaper dispensers and parking meters. He crowed about getting taller, at least fifty feet to tower over New York’s high-rise buildings. Since both of them were fully grown at this point that was definitely a pipe dream. He would be more like a marshmallow forever and Sam made a mental note to get some when they went grocery shopping. It was funny to watch Max masticate the caramelized lumps of sugar.
Eventually they found a nondescript fast food joint that boasted of burgers and chicken fingers, bottomless fries and malts. The fabric of the booths had colors that looked like kindergarteners went crazy with their cheap watercolors. The décor tried to look hip but the place smelled like buttery socks.
When they ordered their burgers Sam briefly wondered how they’d get back to the office since they weren’t well acquainted with the area yet. But at least they could pay for their dinner – or at least Sam did. He had no idea if Max even kept a wallet.
Besides two teens crammed into a small booth, they were the only ones there. In due time they got their food. Max smothered his burger with ketchup and Sam made a crack about him needing some burger meat with his ketchup. Max was too enamored with his meal to retaliate.
Sam chewed his own burger thoughtfully. “Do you detect trace amounts of horse meat, little pal?”
“Mine tastes like pigeon!” Max spat out a ketchup-covered feather and dug right back in. Gobs of ketchup clung to his paws like a crime scene. Sam grinned with that dawning realization that their work was right at their door and they would get right into the thick of investigations.
The tender moment was broken because something that felt like heartburn rose up in Sam’s chest. He thumped his fist against his chest to bring it back down. And the pair of teens started to argue to shatter the moment even more. That sort of commotion made Sam irritated in a way that seemed suited for someone much older than his actual age. By the sound of Max’s gritted teeth he wasn’t alone.
The teens argued about foreign topics, the key words being Game Gear, Game Boy and Kirby. Sam couldn’t begin to understand the meaning of their words. Some more unwanted context was given that this was about video games and Sam gave a flick to Max’s shoulder.
“Look, a couple of nerds,” he said with a grin. Their shared childhood was spent in the dark innards of arcades but that was different.
“You’re telling me. Who could love whatever a Kirby is that much other than a nerd,” Max said. “But you’re the same, you always ran for cover whenever that vacuum brand started up.”
“Shut up, Max, I don’t care to know but I doubt it’s the same thing.”
Max slumped back. “I’d say if they don’t stop I’m gonna start bitin’.”
Maybe because of that ominous, blatant warning the teens slowly started to calm down which meant the dinner could be finished in relative peace. Max shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth and wiped off his paws on a surplus of napkins. He started to fidget, eyeing the exit door.
Sam looked over the remains of his own meal and nodded. “I’m ready to go if you are, pal.”
They climbed out of the booth and Max grabbed a plastic cup. Sam knew not to ask questions. When they got to the door and Sam opened it up Max threw the plastic cup at one of the kids, both of them looking down at their dinner. The cup bounced off the teen’s forehead and after a few shouts it reignited their original argument, just looking for another excuse to fight.
Max’s loud and giddy laughter echoed off the streets as they left the fast food place. Sam couldn’t help but laugh too.
The bustle of the city continued around them as they went back to their new home. They did get lost a few times but eventually they found their way back. Sam could start to feel the day’s work sinks its way into his bones, feeling entirely too much like an old dog. Max still ran about with a frantic energy but it was appropriate since he couldn’t move the heavier furniture.
With some effort Sam climbed the stairs back up to their new, tiny apartment and Max barreled his way past. Night had soaked itself into the sky, and Sam was slower in getting ready for bed. He felt relief at the cool, lightness of his old pajamas and the mattress of the bunk bed against his back. His worn blankets went over his chest as Max clamored up to his own bunk.
The moon cast grey shadows in the bedroom. An obnoxious rattling noise, like a ship on the raging sea, rang out as the bed bunks jostled from side to side like they were caught in an earthquake. Distinctively lagomorph-like foot thumps went against the wall and made it downright impossible to sleep.
Sam sighed even as a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He sat up and reached his arms out, raising them up to the top bunk.
“I can’t fit up there, Max.”
A few seconds later one hyperkinetic rabbity-thing fell into his arms. Even with Max’s slight weight Sam huffed when he caught him. Max tumbled onto his bunk bed and slammed his head onto the pillow with a concerning speed.
“Sam, your pillow reeks of Irish wolfhound,” Max complained.
Sam merely flopped down onto his back, turning his head as he grinned at Max. “Like you smell any better.”
Max gave a hard poke to Sam’s ribs. Instead of giving back a wanted retaliation Sam ruminated on how this place was like something out of a movie, looking at the top bunk. Inspiration struck him like a bout of seasonal allergies.
“In a joint like this trouble walks in like nobody’s business. Only dressed in desperation if trouble darkens out threshold. But that’s not now,” Sam started his monologue. “Now the moon broods over this God-forsaken city and like a man self-floggin’ himself in the tomb of a church I sure as hell don’t got a prayer to save me.”
He continued, “The rattlin’ of my partner don’t make it easy to feel the sharp sting of slumber, to put it simply. When the sun begins its trek across the sky I’m sure all I’ll have is asbestos to flavor my mornin’ coffee if my partner decides to use all of the sugar for his cereal. These fleetin’ pleasures, those grains that slip through your fingertips like the sands of time – “
“Sam.” Max’s paws gave a light push to his jaw.
“Ah, I see how it is,” Sam said with a laugh. He turned over onto his side to face Max. “You’re allowed to make a ruckus that’d wake up the dead but I can’t talk? You know, you were so loud I was three seconds away from throwin’ you out the window.”
Max put his paws to his face as he groaned. “Stop it with the sweet talk, Sam, just shaddup and go to sleep.”
“How ‘bout you do that first, little buddy? I dunno if I trust ya not to make a racket after I go to sleep.”
“Fine.” With something of a pout Max flipped over onto his other side and wedged himself against Sam. Reaching up to grab Sam’s arm and drape it over him showed there were no hard feelings.
It was about thirty seconds after Sam adjusted himself so that they could lay there more comfortably that he could feel the even rising and falling of Max’s chest. These slowed down, quiet moments had a cotton candy-sweet flavor of saccharine since Sam would think about their future together. Marriage always popped up like a sunflower. He thought of marrying Max often.
Some might believe that people should know each other for about twenty years before getting married. Sam knew the two of them had it covered by twenty-one years. They knew the ins and outs of each other better than anything or anyone else so they were way ahead of the game on that requirement.
Sam pulled Max closer as he amended that thought. He still didn’t know Max’s favorite color. But it didn’t faze him all that much because it would come up in conversation anyway.
Sam had a feeling that Max’s favorite color was orange by how it was the same shade as the insides of a rotten melon dropped on an unsuspecting passerby. His favorite color as well. But if Max loved another color above all else than that was fine too.
It could be green for mold, spores or fungus that could be growing in the walls of their new home right now. Red or pink for bloodied gums as they knocked the teeth out of criminals for their new job. Blue or purple like a fresh bruise on a criminal that stole from a little blind girl. That type of person definitely deserved a bite taken out of his stomach courtesy of Max’s teeth.
Sam shook his head. His nose pressed into Max’s fur and caught the entirety of his scent. Right here was more than what he could want for any future.
Staying at the bar or getting on the plane. Colors or marriage. It didn’t really matter. He had Max in his arms after all.