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When Steve finds his guy, Eddie’s handcuffed to the theatre doors. His right wrist is, anyway. His left is cuffed to Argyle’s. And cuffed to Argyle’s left ankle, is Jonathan’s right. Argyle attempts a wave, but the movement takes Eddie’s arm with it, which results in a supersized soaking of icy coke all over the pair. Jonathan snorts. Probably because he’s managed to be unscathed by the splash back.
“S’why we should have gone with 7-up.” He says. But Steve barely catches it from where he lies on the sidewalk, head pillowed in his hands.
“But you like coke, dude.” Argyle says, taking off his second layer and dabbing it at his sticky stomach.
“Without…a doubt…” Jonathan says through yawns, “but 7-up doesn’t stain.”
“Board shorts can be replaced, you know, but supersized sales on fountain drinks last forever.”
“No man, this all-you-can-drink sale ends July thirty-first, ” Eddie says, “And today’s the… ”
“Thirtieth .” Jonathan supplies.
“Yeah, so like, what are we doing sitting here and not like, out there, disrupting the land?" Argyle asks, "High time we pretended we’re some white folk from the east, man,and that that fountain machine is our California gold.”
“Some of us are white folk from the east.” Jonathan breathes.
Steve can't be sure that he's really even awake. Argyle tries again, but Steve shuts him down immediately, not needing to hear anything more.
“Could I just—“ Steve pinches the bridge of his nose (and mumbles why do I even hang out with you bozos), “—could I just interrupt you guys for a sec. Anyone want to tell me what’s up with the cuffs?”
“Cuffs?” Eddie asks, with a head tilt. “Come again?”
“I said, DID YOU PUT YOURSELF HERE OR DO I HAVE TO CALL BAIL BONDS?”
The trio wince.
“Roll the volume back to 3, brother, I’m sensitive.” Argyle says, twisting a pinky in his ear.
“He always swabs too harsh.” Jonathan says, and turn to his side. It brings Argyle’s ankle over his own. Argyle doesn’t seem to notice or mind.
“‘You wanna make sure you got all those little gummy guys out of there.” Eddie says, “Jay think fast!”
Jonathan returns to his back a second late and instead of his open mouth, the popcorn kernel Eddie tossed at him falls into his shirt. Steve hadn’t seen it before, but when Jonathan sits up, there is a littering of kernels outlining Jonathan’s concrete bed like some kind of buttery snow-angel. Eddie shoots him a comforting smile.
“I’ll get it one day.” Jonathan says with a shrug.
“Hey, I won’t give up on you, if you don’t give up on you.” Eddie says. Argyle places a hand on Eddie's shoulder.
“That right there, brooooooooo, that’s some real ass shit man. You could work for hallmark.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t last one—“
“GUYS!” Steve shouts again. “Let’s reel this back to why the hell you’re all cuffed together, mmkay?”
“Oh, yeah, we’re protesting.” Eddie says and fishes a half soak joint from his pocket.
He frowns. Argyle pats him on the back consolingly, retreats, and digs through Jonathan’s jean jacket to procure some rolling papers.
“Protesting what?”
Argyle takes out his wallet, places a paper on top, and uses a nail to cut open the soaked joint. He empties the bud onto the new paper and re-rolls like he’s performing brain surgery.
“Being denied the senior discount.” Eddie says with a growl.
“None of you are seniors.” Steve says.
“What, because of our age? I was a senior a mere three months ago, my guy.” Argyle says, and then snaps his fingers in Eddie’s direction. Eddie mindlessly brings out his zippo and hands it to Argyle.
“Doctor.” Eddie says quickly.
“Doctor.” Argyle says in kind. He holds the flame under the length of the joint, close enough to seal but not burn.
“No, right? For christ sakes, Steve, I was a senior three times. That means I should have like, three times the discount…” Eddie’s brows scrunch. “If my math is right.”
Steve covers both hands over his face. And then runs them through his hair, pushing back the waves in all kinds of odd angles. He imagines they look like how he inwardly feels—distressed.
“It’s not.” He says flatly.
“But the formula…” Argyle starts. And Steve has to cut him off again.
“You! Hey!” Steve kicks at bottom of Jonathan’s converse. “Okay, no, you—why are you here? You know better.”
“Oh, I know better, man. I know better than to trust the man to fairness and equality. We all deserve access to Alien 3.”
“Sure. Right. Okay.”
“Plus,” Jonathan says with a laugh, “this is where the bud went and I was promised nachos.”
“Christ, you really need to stop hanging around Eddie, because you’re starting to make less sense than him.”
“Nah, E&J Spa Day Saturdays are sacred and irreplaceable.”
“You don’t even go to the spa.”
“I dunno, it just sounds better than Jonathan and Eddie get blasted, visit natural history museums, and make up fake lore about earth and mankind’s evolution Saturdays.”
“Huh, now I see why I don’t get to tag along.” Steve says with raised brows. “Guess I owe you a thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Jonathan says.
“Wait, wait…so where’s the patty wagon?”
“Get this. These are the auxiliary doors.” Eddies says.
“Walk me through that one?” Steve raises a brow.
“We can’t, sweets, because they’re only for emergencies.” Eddie says this like Steve is five, as if he's the one missing the mark. Steve rolls his eyes.
“Forget I asked. Alternate definitions welcomed, guys.”
“Back doors.” Argyle says.
“Oh.” Steve scratches his brow with a pinky nail, “So no one’s even noticed you guys, have they?”
“Oh, they’ve noticed, Steve, baby. But just like any other injustice of the world all these—bawk bawk bawk—chickens are couped. Conditioned to ignore wrong doing if it ain’t immediately doing them wrong!”
Instead of engaging in whatever all that means, Steve squats and levels them all with a scrutinizing stare.
“How high are you guys right now?”
Argyle frowns. Starts to speak. Stops. Studies the joint he’s nursed back to health. And then fixes Steve with a serious look.
“Dude, I think the real question is how high aren’t we right now? Like, one could posit that, like, we can and should, be like, higher.”
Steve closes his eyes. Breathes through his nose.
“I don’t even—christ—get yourself unlocked. I’ll pay for the tickets. You’re still getting the Nachos, babe.” Steve says.
“Fair enough." Eddie nods. "Suppose the cause could pause for a free hour and a half of thrills and chills.”
When everyone is free and standing, Argyle’s striking up the lighter again. Steve steals the joint he’d been meaning the light right from his lips.
“If I’m buying, you assholes sure as hell owe me first hit.”