“Your hat, sir?” the man said, and Wayne handed it over, then swiped the bell off the stand.
“Um, sir?” the greeter asked, looking at the bell.
“You’ll get it back when you return my hat,” Wayne said. “A man gots to have insurance.”
“Uh…”
“Where’s my table? It’s got two pretty women at it, and one of them’s nice, but the other probably threatened to shoot you when she was bein’ seated.”
The host pointed. Ah, there they were. Wayne nodded and stalked that direction. Rusting terrible attire for them to all wear on a day like this. You didn’t go to a funeral in chaps unless you rode there on a horse. Or unless you were old Three-Tooth Dag, who liked that sort of thing.
Ranette was Ranette: curvaceous — though he wasn’t supposed to talk about it — and wearing slacks. Jaxy was in a fine white dress, with short white-blonde hair in very tight curls, accented by diamond barrettes. She liked sparkles. He didn’t blame her. Far too few sparkles in life. Adults was supposed to be able to wear what they wanted, so why did so few choose sparkles?
He sat down with Ranette and Jaxy, then thumped his forehead down on the table, making the silverware rattle.
“Oh, delightful,” Ranette said in a dry voice. “Drama.”
“Wayne?” Jaxy asked. “You all right?”
“Mumble mumble,” he said into the tablecloth. “Mumble.”
“Don’t humor him,” Ranette said.
“Yes, humor him,” Wayne grumbled. “He needs it right now.”
“What happened?” Jaxy asked.
“I am officially dumped,” he said. “And my whiskey is wearing off. Stupid body. Metabolizing and neutralizing poisons as if I didn’t dump ’em in there on purpose.” He looked up. “You think I could cut out my liver and stay drunk forever?”
“I’ll humor him on that one,” Ranette said.
“I’m sorry, Wayne,” Jaxy said, patting him on the hand.
“’S all right,” he said. “At least you dressed up fer the funeral.”
“The…?” Jaxy asked.
“Ignore him,” Ranette said. But then she softened her voice. “Hey. You’ll live, Wayne. I’ve seen you get through worse.”
“When?”
“That one time you literally got a cannonball through the stomach.”
He looked up. “Oh yeah. That was something else.”
Jaxy had gone pale. “Did it hurt?”
“Not as much as you’d think,” he said. “Like, yeah, I got torn in half. But I think my body was just kinda confused, you know? Not every day you’re in two pieces.”
“Fortunately,” Ranette said, “his metalminds were on the piece with his head. Otherwise…”
He forced himself to sit up, then sighed and put the bell on the table, then rang it. Then rang it again. Seriously, what was the point of these things if people didn’t pay attention? The third ring finally got a server to step over.
“Vodka,” Wayne said to her. “Worst you got. Closer to piss it tastes, the better.”
“Wayne,” Ranette said, “this is an upscale restaurant.”
“Right,” he said. “Putta olive in it or somethin’.”
“Was that even our server?” Jaxy asked as the woman moved off.
“I try not to look too closely,” Ranette said. “Given the awful outfits.”
“I hear you,” Wayne said. “Who thought a Roughs-themed restaurant was a good idea? Like, to be authentic you’d have to have only stew on the menu. Then when people ordered it, you’d be out of stew and just give them beans.”
“I like it,” Jaxy said. “It’s amusing.”
“It’s insulting,” Ranette said.
“Can we talk more about me?” Wayne said. “Because I’m still over here feeling like what’s left of the grapes after the wine’s been made.”
“Poor dear,” Jaxy said.
“You’re too good to him, Jax,” Ranette said.
“He’s one of your oldest friends.”
“Only because he can’t die.”
“Ranette…” Jaxy said.
“Fine,” Ranette said, then put her hand on Wayne’s shoulder. “You’re strong, Wayne. You can get through this.” She took the glass from the tray when the server came back, and handed it to him. “Look, here’s your alcohol.”
“Thanks, Ranette,” he said, accepting it. “You really know how to make a fellow feel better.”
“To be honest,” she said, “I’m proud of you, Wayne. How you’re handling this. It’s relatively mature.”
“This is mature?” he asked, then downed the vodka.
“Relatively.”
“Suppose you gotta be an adult to get booze,” Wayne admitted. “But … it’s just…” He sighed and sat back. “I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who understood what it was like to have to be another person most of the time. And she did. She did, Ranette.”
“You’ll … uh, find someone else?” Ranette said. “Someone better? That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? Even if it’s probably not true, since I doubt there are many people who are better than a Faceless Immortal. And—”
“Oh, Ranette,” Jaxy said, shaking her head.
“What?” she said. “I don’t do comforting, all right?”
“Wayne,” Jaxy said, “it will hurt. That’s okay. Pain is just your body and your mind acknowledging that this is awful.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “You’re a good friend, Jaxy. Even if you have terrible taste in women.”
“Hey!” Ranette said. “You chased me for the better part of fifteen years.”
“Yeah? And how’s my taste, on average?”
“I…” Ranette said. “Damn. Stop aiming for the vital bits, Wayne. This is supposed to be a friendly meal.”
“Sorry,” he said, then put his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands. They still hadn’t seen their actual server, which made sense. This was a seriously fancy place; you could tell by their contempt for their customers.
“I meant it though, about being proud of you,” Ranette told him. “You’ve grown, Wayne. A lot. We’ve been going to dinner for years now, and you haven’t hit on me once.”
“I promised. Besides, you’re taken. I ain’t a poacher.” He slumped back in his seat. “This wouldn’t be so bad if that day weren’t coming up.”
“The day…” Ranette said. “When you have to deliver payment to that girl?”
Wayne nodded. “Allriandre,” he said. “She and her sisters don’t have a daddy because of me.” His day of trials was the worst day of the month, where he had to go face her. And admit what he’d done: murdering her daddy over twenty years ago.
You know you aren’t forgiven.
I know.
You will never be forgiven.
I … I know.
Ranette leaned forward, tapping on the saltshaker with her fingernail. It was in the shape of a Roughs-style boot. So fancy that the awful decor somehow wrapped around to being tasteful.
“What if,” Ranette said to him, “you didn’t see her this month?”
“I’ve gotta,” Wayne said.
“Why?”
“It’s my punishment.”
“Says who?”
“The cosmere,” Wayne said. “I took her daddy from her, Ranette. I gotta remember. What I am. I gotta look her in the eyes and let her know I ain’t forgotten.”
The two women shared a look.
“Wayne,” Jaxy said, “I’ve … wanted to talk to you about that. The way you treat that girl. I realize today might not be the best day…”
“Nah,” he said. “Hit me, Jaxy. I’m mostly numb already. It’s a good day to get punched.”