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"Depends on what you mean by 'safe,'" Daryl says. "Sharks ain't safe, but they aren't about to get you in trouble with the law, either, ya know what I mean?" He looks at the trio and, with a shake of his head, says, "Look, I'll go make some calls. Give me a few minutes, stay out of trouble. Hey--whatta you looking for? What kinda specs?"
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Daryl's gone for about ten minutes, giving the trio plenty of time to look around and shoot the shit, or just wait in silence. Certainly there's plenty to look at here if they'd rather; Daryl's got some full pieces up as well as some experiments and test pictures, and he's not the only one here who works with the paints. Daryl's mechanic pays them no mind, adjusting his do-rag and getting back to work--although he occasionally glances over at the fine Miss Forrester.
When Daryl returns, he has a note held in his hands; but from the way his shoulders have slumped you might think this sheet of notebook paper was a bucket of concrete. Some of the color has gone from his face. He holds the paper out to Dizzy, muttering, "I hate talking with that guy. You owe me, man."
The note is written on yellow paper and says, in neat handwriting,
DUNBAR TRUCK30 MINUTESS/W CORNER, WESTFIELD LOTDUE BACK BY MIDNIGHTCALL 916-555-0082 FOR RETURN INSTRUCTIONS
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As Daryl left them, Dizzy let out a long sigh. He knew he was taking a long shot asking his cuz for such a specified vehicle. What was he looking for? Miracles?
Dizzy ran his hand over his head and looked at Colin and Monica, giving them both an apologetic shrug.
"Oh well, it was worth a shot."
The minute Daryl returned, the trademark smile was back on Dizzy's face.
Never let 'em see ya sad, 'specially family.
He took the card.
"I owe you so much anyway, cuz, you now that," he jokes before bumping shoulders with Daryl. "Thanks, man. I'll see ya straight."
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Daryl offers a wan smile. "You best be goin'," he says. He gives Monica and Colin a wave, adding, "Hope to see you two again." From the way he was acting you'd think there had been a death in the family. "Diz, you give me a call when this is through, you hear me? Get going, man."
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Monica gives him a smile and twiddles her finger in a goodbye wave before she turns and follows Dizzy.
"Nice to meet you, Daryl. See you around."
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"Yeah, laters, man."
Dizzy heads out of Fresh Cotes, glad to be in the open once again and not having to depend on family.
Again.
He looks to his colleagues. "Give me a gun. I might not know how to use it, but at least I can have one, 'cos you know what?" he states, looking down at the card. "This shit tastes sour."
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With a grin that seems to say "I knew you'd come crawling back," Colin hands Dizzy one of his extra pistols.
The three saddle up and head off for the mall.
Sorry guys, I really should have gotten this up yesterday. Mea culpa.
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