Dinner

The glass bus shelter shattered behind Reynolds just as he was ducking into Chen’s Spaghetti and Eggroll Emporium to avoid the torrential downpour that had started a minute prior. The boom came a split second later, causing Reynolds to dive for the ground right in the doorway. Another boom, and the glass in the door and front window disintegrated and cascaded down just like the rain that was drenching Tomasi street. This time Reynolds had seen where the booms were coming from. A black Lincoln was creeping down the street, a shotgun barrel sticking out of the rear driver side window. A flash and another boom followed by the sidewalk and bricks in front of him exploding and spraying shards of rock, dust, and lead into his right arm and forehead.

With blood now visible from Reynolds head, the Lincoln driver slammed the pedal down, fishtailing the giant black beast down Tomasi, and around the corner of 26th. Reynolds picked himself up and walked into Chen’s.
“Everyone alright Johnny?” he asked.
The proprietor of Chen’s, Johnny Ng, a mid 40’s, rotund, balding, and usually jovial mountain of a man, shook his head grimly in the affirmative. “Reynolds, that’s going to cost you”.
“What makes you think that was my fault? How do you know someone wasn’t just pissed at you because you don’t make cream cheese wontons anymore?”
Reynolds tried to slip a smile in with his statement, but every time he moved any muscle in his face, it seemed that more blood would start to drip down his face. Johnny handed him some brown paper napkins.
“Don’t you have a first aid kit Johnny?” stated Reynolds.
“Not for people that get my restaurant shot up.” Said Johnny dryly. “The cops will be here soon, you better get going unless you want to spend the night answering questions.”
“Good idea Chen. Can I get an order of shrimp eggrolls and a side of marinara to go?”
“GET THE FUCK OUT REYNOLDS, BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF!”
“Fine, I’m going. Thanks for the napkins Johnny”
“Thanks for the mess Reynolds.”

Reynolds walked back out into the rain, holding a wad of napkins up to his forehead. Within seconds, the wad turned into a brown, pulpy lump of blood and rainwater, with what seemed like very little paper left.
“Fuck” declared Reynolds. “I’m going to have to find Lucinda again. She ought to be able to stitch this up”. Sirens were blaring from a few streets away. “And I need to stop talking to myself, people are going to think I’m nuts.” Reynolds ducked down the alley that connected Tomasi to Evergreen, where he had parked his car. It was going to be a long night.