• 07 Dec, 2025 *

The Squat, Kitchen. Early October 1995. Sunday Morning.

The next morning, Jerk was making coffee in the kitchen when Kid came in.

“Hey,” Kid said as they entered the room. “You get any sleep?”

“Enough.” Jerk switched the burner to low as the percolator began burbling.

Jerk turned and leaned against the counter, facing Kid, eyes off to the side. “Sorry,” he said as he looked at his watch and noted the time. 6:43 a.m.

“About what?” Kid came over, and took his hand. Jerk couldn’t look at them, but he squeezed.

Kid reached up and stroked his cheek with their other hand.

“You were worried, when my words got broken,” Jerk nearly whispered. He looked up at them. “I could tell.”

“You had a bad couple of days.” Kid leaned in and kissed him. “You’d have been worried about me, too.”

“I was fine, I’m–”

“Always fine?” Kid completed the sentence for him.

“Yeah.” Jerk looked away, guilty, and shrugged. “Eventually.”

The lid of the percolator rattled loudly. Jerk turned the burner down a little more.

“I’m going to go downstairs and check stock levels in a bit,” Jerk said.

Kid had gotten themself a bowl and were pouring raisin bran into it. “You can take some time for yourself, you know.”

Jerk began running his fingers through his hair, front to back. “I’m restless, if I stay up here, I’ll just keep organizing my tapes.” He shook his head. “Might as well do something useful.”

Kid nodded, getting milk from the fridge and a spoon from a drawer. Jerk kept running his fingers through his hair while Kid ate.

“If you don’t want to be around me anymore,” Jerk finally said. “I understand.” He couldn’t look at them. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Kid’s spoon stopped midway to their mouth. Their head tilted. “Why would you say that?”

Jerk didn’t answer, he just kept running his hands through his hair.

“Honey?”

“These are my problems,” Jerk said with a sigh. “Not yours.”

“For a guy who says ‘no one owns a problem,’ you seem awfully attached to your own.”

“I guess.” Jerk couldn’t argue with that.

Jerk checked his watch. 6:55 a.m. He turned off the burner and let the coffee sit for minute. Kid finished their cereal.

“Would you help me?” Jerk asked, looking up at Kid. “With the stock levels.”

“’Course.” Kid said, standing up and tilting the bowl back to shovel the last few flakes into their mouth, metal clattering against porcelain.

Jerk made his coffee while Kid rinsed their bowl and spoon and put them into the dishwasher.

“Did you really want to go?” Jerk asked.

“To check stock?” Kid looked confused.

“No, to Maine with me. Next summer?”

“Oh.” Kid’s eyes lit up. “Of course.” They padded up to face him.

“Good,” he said, leaning in and kissing them. “I–”

“Whoa,” came a voice from the door.

Jerk looked up.

“Kev–Late,” he stammered, stiffening and straightening his back.

Late stood there, a grin on his face. He was speechless.

Jerk moved over a little, looking away from Kid and Late. “It’s new.” He could feel his cheeks getting hot. “Guess you’d have found out eventually.”

Late’s face fell a little. “Sorry to spook you.” He raised a six-pack. “Saved the last Gennys, watching the game with Jackie and Diane later.” He walked over to the refrigerator and put it in.

Kid had poured the last of the coffee into a cup and was sipping it, black.

“How bad are we cleaned out?” Jerk asked. “I’m going to go down and take stock levels, get prepped for orders.”

“Staples are wiped out. Public Market and Patroon Union both lost power,” Late said.

“Kinda wish they hadn’t.” Jerk put the side of his left thumb in his mouth and immediately caught himself. “We got batteries? The one in my Walkman died, and I’m out.”

“Unless there’s been a sudden rush on them,” Late said with a shrug. He covered his mouth and yawned. “Oh, and I almost forgot, it’s a girl!”

“What’s a girl?” Jerk asked.

“The baby, Becky had the baby last night,” Late yawned again, enough his eyes teared a little.

“I never even asked how far along she was,” Jerk said quietly, making a face. “I’m an asshole.”

“She was a couple weeks early,” Late said. “I’m sure he would have told you eventually.”

It didn’t make Jerk feel any better.

“Can we have a staff meeting?” Jerk asked. “I’ve got something I’ve been thinking about.”

“I’m going to fall asleep if this is about rotating the old stock to the front again.” Late gave Jerk a tired look.

“What about Tiny?” Kid asked.

“This is quick.” Jerk put the side of his thumb in his mouth and immediately tasted dried blood. He started running his hands through his hair again. “And it’s about scheduling, that’s mine as of right now.”

Jerk wondered what wasn’t, anymore.

He started pacing along the line in the floor from the pantry to the sink and back. “I’m offering Clark more hours.”

“What?” Late and Kid said in unison.

“I know it sounds stupid,” Jerk said, still pacing and running his fingers through his hair. “But with Norma sick again, I don’t think we can count on Tiny for days consistently, and that’ll be on Sad Eyes and me.”

“Floater was one thing.” Late’s voice had a feral growl underneath it. “But he hurt my friend.”

Jerk stopped and looked at Late. “I was there, remember?” He went back to pacing, letting go of his hair.

Jerk realized he’d forgotten about the cicadas, which made them come back.

“What if he screws us again?” Late pushed.

“Maybe he won’t?” Kid piped in. “He’s got a wife and baby now.”

“More leverage someone could use on him,” Late hissed.

“You really think someone’s going to threaten his wife and baby?” Kid’s copper penny eyes were curious.

Late’s eyes looked around as if he was trying to think of a plausible way. “I mean, it could happen–”

Jerk cut Late off. “Can you let me be the paranoid one?” The cicadas were getting insistent. “He does anything that doesn’t smell like roses, and he’s out.”

“Exposure could kill all of this,” Late said as he released his rage with a tired sigh. “I don’t want to end up homeless.”

“There are worse things,” Kid said between sips of coffee. They didn’t elaborate.

“Yeah, true.” Late gave them both a tired look. “Show me the new schedule when you make it, I’m going to bed.”

Late headed towards his room.

Jerk had come to rest against the counter, next to Kid. He reached his hand and they took it. Kid squeezed.

“Are you okay?” Kid asked.

Jerk didn’t look at them. He tensed his back and forced it to relax.

“Not really,” Jerk finally said. He wished he could forget about the cicadas again.

Kid leaned their head against him. “I’ll go down and get batteries, pick out a couple of your tapes, okay?”

“That would be wonderful,” Jerk said.

He felt as if he might cry. He didn’t know why.

#arc-eight