Everything You Need: Short Stories by Michael Marshall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

vision at the start of the recording. He is visible from behind, sitting against the edge of the terrace.

     
    A t 20 :38 a SECOND MAN enters the field of view. He is bulky, wearing denim jeans and a plaid shirt, and in middle age. He is carrying a supermarket paper sack under each arm, with some difficulty. When he gets close to the barbeque one of these starts to slip. He elects to place both hurriedly on the ground.

     
    M AN 2 : Fuck me that’s some heavy shit. I never realized how heavy all this shit is . You could have helped, man.
    The FIRST MAN grunts.
    MAN 2: Yeah, right. Wear the young ones out first, huh? Like dad always said. I get why, now.
    Man 2 puts his hands on his hips and looks out into the darkness over the lake.
    MAN 2: Fuck, bro. How long has it been? I mean... how long? Seriously. I was trying to work it out on the way here. But it’s like, I’m driving, and it’s dark and actually I’m pretty fucking drunk. ’Course we don’t have to worry about traffic on the roads, right? That’s one thing. But let’s work it out. I’m forty-seven, which is a fucking joke in itself. How did that happen? And the last time I remember us all being here, the entire family and cousins and dah dah dah, is... It was the year before I moved to Chicago, right? I was twenty nine. Which is like... a zillion years ago. No, hang on, come on. Forty-seven. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight? No way. It can’t be nearly thirty fucking years. Oh. Eighteen years, duh. Shit. That’s still long, man. That’s still really fucking long . Seems like it was, okay not yesterday, but, you know, not... that long.
    Man 2 is silent for a few moments, swaying slightly.
    MAN 2: That’s some pretty easy math I was fucking up there. I’m amazed we got here in one piece.
    Man 1 grunts again. Man 2 turns back to look at him.
    MAN 2: Right. Whatever. Let’s do this.
    He squats down and starts removing things from the bags he put on the floor. He takes out a large bag. He takes out a smaller bag wrapped in white plastic.
    MAN 2: Burgers, plain and simple. Steak? Ha. No fucking chance. When’s the last time you saw a steak? Right. Steak would have not been... realistic . Suits me fine. I always thought burgers kicked steak’s ass on a barbecue anyway.
    He peers down at the barbecue.
    MAN 2: Basic fucking grill this is, man. Guess you got to make the best of what you got though, right? If it was enough for Dad to work his magic, it’s good enough for us.
    He takes out another, lighter bag.
    MAN 2: Buns. Uh, right. Yeah. Buns. Fuck - did I remember mustard?
    He leans down to rootle through the second bag. Loses his balance and keels over until he is lying on the grass.
    MAN 2 [MUFFLED]: Crap.
    After a moment he moves his head, peering.
    MAN 2: Ha. Found the mustard, though. And the JD, halle-fucking-lujah.
    He pushes himself up to a seating position and pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels from the nearest bag. He takes a large gulp, and holds it out toward Man 1. No response.
    MAN 2: Good call, man. You’re wasted enough. Okay. Let’s get these burgers rock and rolling.
    He gets up, surprisingly fluently, and starts unpacking bags onto the support area around the barbecue.
    MAN 2: Duh. Might want to start the fire, right?
    He picks up one of the larger bags, tears vaguely at one end, and eventually opens it. He pours charcoal into the grill. Then brings up a small tin, which he up-ends and squirts liberally over the coals. He pulls a box of matches from his pocket. Lights one, tosses it in. The fuel ignites noisily, momentarily whiting out the image on screen.
    MAN 2: Whoops.
    The image settles and the sound of flames dies down, to show Man 2 lighting a cigarette off another match. Man 1 grunts again, louder this time.
    Man 2: Are you kidding? You’re giving me a hard time about smoking — when the world’s fucked to shit? Fuck it. Not to mention we’re in the fucking out doors , dude. Lake fucking Tahoe, man. First cigarette I ever had was by