Blood Kratom

Simon and Gun

The platform by the river was a logs raft; People nailed boards to big logs below. It looked like a floating stage. Few boats parked near the raft. I almost burst as I read the names. A boat name God parked near a boat name Satan. Next to Satan, park four cardinal sins: Pride, greed, gluttony, and sloth. I wondered where lust and envy had gone.

Small coffee shops formed a semi-circle, facing the river. Several bikes parked at the center, exposed to the heat. The shop owners glanced at us as we arrived. I smelled burnt nut.

 We went to one shop with the largest crowd. The more the consumer, the better the coffee tasted. That’s what I had learned. We darted to the shop, leaving the disappointed faces of other shop owners. Bill approached the counter and ordered two black coffees. We positioned ourselves on the right corner. I counted ten tables, all served. Two to three people occupied each table; all of them were men. The floor creaked as people walked. I felt at home.

 A waitress came with our order, presenting her smile. She flipped her long hair to the back. Her neck looked white as rambutan flesh, tattooed with hickeys. She fell her hair again, trying to hide them.

 “Awesome night?” Bill handed her money.

She smiled, lowering her sight.

“Take the rest.” Bill handed another bill. “For my straightforwardness.”

She widened her eyes as three hundred thousand rupiahs filled her palm. She hesitated, closing her fingers. After pocketing the money, she returned to serve other customers. She glanced back several times.

“Want to eat something?” Bill glanced at the men next to our table.

The sound of plates, forks, and spoons clashed. I smelled chilly. A bottle of chili sauce rested on our table. I picked the bottle and unlocked the cover. I put it down after inhaling the content. I loved spicy foods that stomach groaned.

Bill ordered without my approval; he needed not. The waitress came with two bowls of warm noodles with a boiled egg on top. Bill lowered his face, inhaling. I proclaimed noodles as the best food, simply affordable and tasty. Plus, it reminded me of my mother. We used to cook a package and shared it. Mother would let me eat the noodles saying she was not hungry. She would satisfy herself with the leftover.

I consumed half when Bill ordered another bowl. He added two spoons of chilly into it. His eyes and his nose looked red.

“Dad would kill me if he knew.” Bill spooned to his mouth. “This food made people stupid he said.”

Sir Luther had two noodle companies. He made people stupid.

Bill put down his plate and rushed toward the toilet. He ordered me to continue eating as I stood up to assist. Later, he returned, holding his stomach. I finished my last spoon.

I heard people talked in their local tongue. Two locals eyed us from the corner; one pointed at my face. I hastened my belt. They rose and advanced toward us. They had hornbill tattoo on their neck. Not again, I reached for my pistol. Bill shook. I rested my hands on my lap.

“Sir.” They took seats next to us. “Ride?”

“Pair of sharp eyes you have.” Bill raised his hand and asked for more two cups of coffee.

I sip mine. It tasted bitter, just perfect. They glanced at me. I stared at them, no blinking.

“Acknowledge people with money easy.” One of them touched Bill’s t-shirt.

I grabbed the man’s hand.

“No.” Bill pushed my hand away.

After releasing his hand, I marked him with my eyes. His friends grinned.

“Simon, and my friend Gun.”

Gun stomped at the corner and lifted two extra chairs with his massive hands. He dropped the furniture, making a loud noise. People glanced at us but looked away immediately. Simon pulled the chair close to Bill and rested his slim figure. Gun scanned me with wide eyes.

“Name boss?” Simon rubbed his hands.

“Bill, and my company, shadow.” Bill smiled and pointed at me.

Simon nodded. “Where go?”

“Drive us to Balu Village.” Bill lifted his cup and sipped it.

This Simon guy talked in incomplete sentences. I did not like him.

“Think about it.” Simon waved to Gun.

The way he responded boiled my blood. How dared he play my boss. My hand itched, wanting to smack his face.

They rose, moved to the corner, and talked in their local tongue. They returned to our table.

“Deal! But pay much money, okay?” Simon rubbed his hands again.

“No problem.” Bill lit a cigar.

A man rushed from outside and bumped onto Simon, sending him to the floor. Gun raised his fist and hit the intruder on the neck. The man collapsed beside Simon, not moving. Simon raised, kicked the man on rips, and swept dust from his shirt.

The other customers remained calm as if it happened every day.

“Let’s go.” Simon lifted Bill’s bag.

Gun reached for mine, but I snatched it from him. We hurried for the platform.