“Because now I don’t just have a partner in crime. I’ve got myself a boyfriend.” He threw his arms out. “A boyfriend.”
“We don’t have any of those, love,” said the bony, middle-aged waitress as she walked by their table.
Michael and Bevan looked at each other, laughing.
The waitress glanced back over her shoulder and winked at them.
* * * *
Three days later they returned to the café, half expecting Al not to show up.
“Why wouldn’t he? He’s got another three thousand credits coming to him,” said Michael.
“Because he’s already got three thousand credits from us, which is three thousand more than he had before he met us.”
They waited for fifteen minutes. Bevan was growing more and more agitated. Michael was calmer, but then again they weren’t his credits Al had taken.
“I’m going to wait here all afternoon if I have to,” said Bevan.
“He’ll be here,” said Michael, reassuringly.
Almost as if on cue, Al walked into the café. He took a seat opposite Michael and Bevan.