Parker & Longbaugh
The view was majestic, but from that height anything would be. The wide expanse of the city that they overlooked made it seem quiet and picturesque. The feeling of breathless awe that came with being out on top of a hill, one with nature, never once spoke of the fact that the majority of the people in that same quiet, picturesque little hamlet wanted them dead.
But still, wow. What a view. Having just unleashed the greatest piss of his lifetime literally made that moment even more cathartic.
He imagined that it was how God felt whenever he had to take a leak.
He feigned an orgasmic groan when he turned to see his partner sitting on the guard rail next to him, watching.
“So? What the fuck now, genius?” his partner asked.
He finished by shaking himself, but sighed when a couple of drops hit the toes of his boots. He kicked a cloud of dust in his partner’s general direction before putting a cigarette in his mouth.
“The fuck now?” he asked. “What isn’t the fuck now?”
All too familiar with his humor, his partner snorted once as a formal display of how utterly surprised he was by his response. He then began snapping his fingers for a cigarette.
“So, the deal went south,” he continued after tossing his partner the pack. “So what? If he didn’t want anyone going for the rest of the score then why did he have to parade it around like that? We didn’t have to know what else was in the case, man. All he had to do was pay us then we’d be off on our merry way. He didn’t have to gloat the way he did, for one. He didn’t have to do it at our expense, for another. And he, sure as fuck, didn’t have to do it with us and the score in the same room together, now did he?”
His partner blew a lungful of smoke at his face.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He took a long pull from his cigarette and considered his partner for a moment. He had a penchant for staring directly at you for periods that didn’t exactly scream politeness. He had a long laconic face that rarely ever betrayed any emotion other than annoyance. It didn’t help that when he did stare, he would always do so behind tightly squinted eyes. As if, at the specific moment in time, you were so small or lesser than that he could barely even see you.
He got the stare so much that he had grown immune to it. Stares like that, from his partner and his father and whoever else he’s had more than a passing acquaintance with, had since inoculated him from feeling other people’s disappointments.
“Well we can’t go back down there, now can we?” he began. “So, if back there isn’t an option then, I guess, everywhere else is.”
His partner pursed his lips and scratched the tip of his nose, the tell that he’s ruminating about something.
“We’re two ambitious men with a very specialized skill set who, for the first time in a very long time, aren’t tied to any one employer. We’re officially freelancers, my friend. And every place in the world that isn’t behind us is our oyster. Now wrap your head around that for a second.”
Satisfied that he made his point, he nodded as he watched his partner continue to mull things over. He turned back towards the view and flicked his cigarette over the guard rail. He patted his pockets for the rest of his cigarettes before realizing that he threw the pack at his partner.
When he turned back to him with his hand out to get it back, his partner already had his pistol out and pointed at his heart.
“How about this,” his partner said. “What if I walk you back down this hill and into that town. Then hand you back to that stupid little man so that him and his boys can do whatever the fuck they want to your greedy conniving little ass, huh? Can we wrap our heads around that for a second.”
He let a minute of awkward silence pass before snapping his fingers twice for the cigarettes back.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “You know what I said about his wife. They’d do us both just on general principle.”
His partner raised an eyebrow.
And threw the pack back to it’s owner.
“Plus our names are burnt,” he continued, carefully watching his partner holster the pistol away. “And we all know how much you like making with the aliases.”
His partner cracked the faintest of smirks. He saw it as they walked back to the car.
“I have been saving something special, just in case.”
“Oh yeah? Do tell.”
“Do you know the real names of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?”
He returned the smirk and slapped his partner on the back.
“No, but I’m sure they’re pretty badass.”