We Are Both in the Dirt

Mint lights a cigarette and takes both of Mira's bags. Mira follows behind him, her heels clacking on the warm concrete sidewalk. Mint checks his watch after he throws her bags into the back of his car. He then looks up at the sky, sunny and blue above them.

"A little reverie?" Mira asks, following his gaze. A jet squeals over them, leaves a trail of white smoke in its wake. They look at one another.

"Yes, and that's my mistake. We don't have a moment to waste," Mint says.

"He knows by now, he has to," Mira says. She climbs into the car and checks her makeup in the mirror. Mint is rummaging around in the trunk. Mira touches the gun on her thigh through the fabric of her dress, using anything she can for reassurance. Mint finds whatever he is looking for and climbs into the car, starts it up. The engine purrs and then goes quiet, Mint leans over and kisses her, his hand goes beneath her dress and tunnels up to her stomach.

"I missed you so much," he breathes into her mouth. She smiles at him when he pulls away from her. She lays her hand in his lap and continues to check her lipstick in the mirror. "So, where to first?"

"Allen's." Mint says. He pulls off into traffic. "He's got a couple of things I think I might need."

"Like what?" Mira asks. She tries to relax as she watches life going on around them, people walking down the streets, talking and laughing, shopping bags dangling from their hands. She wants to be out there with them, not sitting in a car with sweat running beneath her clothes. Mint seems cool as a cucumber, but then, he always is.

Mint doesn't expound, and she becomes too fond of the silence between them to ask again what he is planning to take from Allen's. She has an idea, anyway.

"The night we first met, I knew we'd be here at some point. Montana Jones breathing down our necks. I knew it because he had you and didn't deserve you. Killed your best friend and made you too scared to leave him."

"I don't want to talk about this, Mint."

"We need to. Shit has hit the fan. We need to be clear about what is at stake here."

They pull into Allen's driveway. Mint hops out of the car and tells her to wait. She touches her gun again. Mint knocks on the front door, causes it to swing open slowly. Mira jumps out of the car, the gun in her hands now. She stoops down low and takes cover in front of the porch.

"Blood everywhere," Mint calls back to her. "You got my back?"

"Got it!" She says. She watches him advance, then allows her eyes to scan the large yard for any movement. A rabbit hops out of a cluster of bushes and crosses the deserted road and Mira applies some sort of meaning to this act that she won't fully understand until much later. Once she is certain there is no one waiting to blow her brains out from behind, she climbs onto the porch and enters the house behind Mint. A trail of blood, dripping from the front door and up to the second floor.

"No one down here," Mint says to her after he makes a quick and thorough beeline through the first level of the small house.

"Not now," Mira says. She takes the lead up the stairs, her pistol ready in her hands. The bedroom where she and Montana had fought when she'd returned from the hospital the night she'd overdosed was at the head of the stairs. It was Allen's stash room, but had a bed, dresser, a bowl of potpourri in front of the window, she remembers. Now the door hangs from the hinges and the interior is completely covered in blood. When Mira sees Allen's headless body in the bed she stops cold. Mint is close behind.

Mint shoves the bed against the far wall and rips up the carpet, pulls a knife from his boot and pries up a few floor boards. He pulls a hundred dollar bill from the depths of the stash spot and holds it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The room is hot, stuffy, and it is not until Mira registers what the bank note means that she becomes aware of the stench of Allen's body, rotting in the heat of the day.

"I don't think Montana is in Dubai anymore," Mint says.