Suit of Crows

Chapter 03

"No, yeah, I'm fine. I just thought I saw someone I knew is all." Kat dismissed with a wave of her hand; her fidgeting gave her away though. Aaron knew all of her tells and could tell that something was bothering her, but if she wasn't forthcoming about it, he wouldn't push. After all, he had secrets of his own and Kat had never pried either. Kat shook off the strange encounter and turned back to Aaron with a smile on her face, "I don't wanna go home yet, let's get ice cream!"

"Ice cream? Where are we gonna find an ice cream place still open at this—" Kat showed him her phone where she had found a small business parlor that was open until one in the morning that was only two blocks from their current location. "I forgot, you're you. I don't know why I'm so surprised, you do this all the time." Sighing, dizziness passed, he acquiesced with faux reluctance, "alright, let's go."

Aaron stood and started walking rather confidently in the wrong direction, assuming he knew where the parlor was. While he had outstanding directional awareness, he couldn't read a map to save his life. Kat grabbed his dark blue athletic shirt and pulled him back before he could get too far, swinging her arm to point in the right direction away from the plaza and the main road before finding a comfortable pace next to his longer but slower stride. She had found pretty early on that Aaron never cared when she dragged him around, even found it rather amusing sometimes, just so long as he was back home before his dad expected him to be—which changed for reasons usually related to his father that Kat never bought the justification for but was never interested enough to pry into. She had met his dad enough times to know how erratic his schedule was and for whatever reason, that affected Aaron's as well.

The parlor was just off the main street, four blocks down from the plaza, the entrance and shop located in a hardly trafficked alleyway. It was lit up with neon signs of all different colors so it was impossible to miss it and yet, it was empty. Kat supposed that regular people didn't go out for ice cream at this time, nor did they go down dark alleys, or apparently inside Marty's, as the sign outside spelled in glowing cursive letters. A little bell tinkled overhead as Kat opened the door, Aaron following behind her.

Kat paused just inside the doorway at the mismatched styles, the white oak hardwood flooring that ceded into black and white checkered tile from what she could glimpse of the backspace behind the counter. The front wall was mostly windows, the back wall completely brick, and the others were covered by overlapping sheets of shiny silver metal. There were bright red leather booths along one metal wall and one continuous workstation along the other, the ice cream shielded behind a protective glass dome, a cash register stationed at the end of the counter closest to the door.

Something about the place just clicked for Kat, she could see the layers of care each prior owner had put into refining the shop. She could see how each of them handed it off to the next person, giving up when the going got tough, which all coalesced into what she saw now; an ice cream shop down an alley fighting for its insignificant place in a city that wouldn't blink if it disappeared. It was perfect.

Aaron pulled Kat out of her observations with a light tug as he led them to the starting counter where there were example size bowls and cones out for customer consideration. Kat didn't need a huge quantity so long as there was sufficient sugar, and what she really meant by sufficient was legitimately overloaded with a heart attack amount of sugar. Sidling up to the counter, a lanky employee with a nametag that matched the sign out front greeted them with a very drab, "I'm Marty, what can I get you?"

Kat's face lit up as he greeted them, "are you the owner?" She found the possibility that this nerd-punk hybrid could be the owner very exciting. The guy had no less than twelve piercings—of the visible ones anyway—hair slicked so heavily to the side that it seemed glued to his head in a kid-genius sorta way, sported big boxy glasses so thick that it magnified his eyes and the black eyeliner underneath them, and also seemed to have some sheer black material under a neon apron instead of a shirt. From the not-a-shirt shirt, Kat could make out an intricate web of thick black lines that raced up his arms and disappeared behind the apron, no doubt a rather extensive tattoo collection. For whatever reason, the pattern sparked something of a recognition for her, she swore shed seen it before, maybe it was a common tattoo pattern or a shirt design, she had several that fit the same aesthetic.

Marty's face fell into a glowering sullen expression at the question that he had clearly heard many times before by previous customers. "No, we are two different Marty's. He owns the place; I just work here."

Feeling a sudden and extreme need to show kindness, she complimented in a sincere but lighthearted tone, "well, I really like your tattoos, Marty. I feel like Ive seen them in some popular design before." Though Kat thought she saw a brief look of alertness, she was forced to brush it off because, if at all possible, his face fell further into despondence, having the opposite effect than the one she had intended. Apparently, compliments were not the way to go to win over this nerd-punk hybrid.

Kat was suddenly determined to make it her mission to get this Marty-who-is-not-the-owner to smile at her—after she got her ice cream that is, which he may hate her for after she was finished. "Just tell me what you want already." Marty sighed in exasperation. She didn't know why, it's not like he had a line of customers out the door or anything better to do, or maybe he did, and she just didn't know it? Meh, she could answer that question after she got to know him better, but ice cream first.

Kat was about to tap on the glass to point at what she wanted but stopped when she caught sight of Marty's piercing glare that just seemed to say, 'do not put your filthy fingers on that glass' and not so subtly pointed at the sticker on the glass that indeed said, 'Do Not Touch Glass'. Kat smiled guiltily and put her hands behind her back so she would make sure not to make that mistake, there was no need to piss off the ice cream man just before she ordered, solid reasoning. "I'll take three scoops of Scooperman ice cream in a bowl with . . ." she paused as she moved down the workstation line and considered her options. Finally deciding, she continued, "gummy bears, fruity pebbles, lucky charms, skittles, chocolate drizzle, and three times the amount of KitKats as anything else."

"I hate you," Marty grumbled.