Osa sat hunched on a barstool, elbows on the counter, listening to the band strumming guitars in the background. The music was soft, but his thoughts were louder
"Osa!"
He turned. Noah stood behind him, older now—wrinkles around his brown eyes, but still sporting the short afro Osa remembered from their cruise ship days. That job had ended in blood. Ethan had been shot and killed on board. A memory Osa couldn't forget.
"Remember me, we used to work together as servants for Milton Sudan?" Noah said.
"I remember," Osa said, taking a swig of beer. "You still work for Milton?"
Noah shook his head. "I was replaced. Rob speaks Aka-pa. Milton likes that."
"I quit," Osa muttered. "Milton mocked my accent. I'm from Sumer. Came to Cascadia for better work."
"How long have you been here for?"
"Since I was eighteen. I'm forty, now. I worked for Milton to learn English—he dealt with foreigners. My parents couldn't afford school."
"Another beer?" the bartender asked Osa.
"Yes," Osa replied.
"I'll have a glass of Sangria," Noah said.
"One thousand dollars." The bartender said.
"What!" Noah gasped. "Why is it so expensive?"
"Because grape phylloxera insects are destroying the grape wines in Catwerp."
"I thought we imported our wine from Purple Island?" Noah asked.
The bartender shook his head. "That place no longer exists. It was destroyed by the bombing. All of Cascadia's red wine is imported from Catwerp, and now inflation is through the roof. Renee Clinton has blamed David Trescot, the ruler of Sumer. She says a shipment of cotton that Catwerp received from Sumer was infected with phylloxera insects."
"That's absurd!" Osa stated. "Phylloxera insects don't even fucking live in Sumer." He slammed on his fist down on the counter. "The climate in Sumer is too hot for Phylloxera insects! Does Renee Clinton not know her geography?"
"Makes me question why Renee is in power. Just get me a beer instead." Noah replied.
The bartender nodded and left to get their drinks.
Osa shook his head. "Both my parents died from the measles outbreak when Renee Clinton refused to send the vaccine over to Sumer."
Noah's mouth dropped open. "I remember! It's because Sumer helped Intermarium during the Ossory war."
"Sumer never helped Intermarium during the Ossory war! Renee is making up stupid excuses for why she couldn't help citizens in Sumer. Yesmin Trixie from Jayland did ship vaccines to Sumer, but it was too late for my parents."
The bartender returned with their drinks. "That'll be fifteen dollars, each."
They paid the bartender, and he left to attend to other customers.
"Renee really is the devil, making it too expensive to afford my favourite drink!" Noah drank from his glass. "I remember when it was only ten dollars!"
"Renee is a bitch!" Osa slammed his empty bottle down. "She won't admit that she is racist, that's why she won't help people of black ancestry!"
"What do you do now?" Noah asked Osa.
"I can't tell you." Osa put on his jacket and jumped off his chair. "I need to go home. It's getting late."
Osa exited the bar and walked on the sidewalk. The city's lamp posts shone against his black shoes.
"Hey, you can trust me."
Osa turned his head to look at Noah and shook his head. "I can't."
"It isn't illegal?" Noah smiled as he approached Osa. "I'm not going to judge you."
Osa put his hand in the pocket of his black leather coat. "Aka-pa speakers can't find any legitimate work anymore."
"Let me guess, you sell drugs?" Noah smiled.
"What makes you think that?" Osa raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, come on, I can smell it on your jacket!" Noah replied.
"May I ask what you do for a living?" Osa's eyes narrowed.
"I make arrangements for my clients," Noah replied. "Some people may call me Cupid. What kind of drugs do you sell?"
"Why do you ask?" Osa said.
"Because I got money with me." Noah's eyes widened.
"How much?" Osa raised an eyebrow.
"I got five hundred dollars on me," Noah replied. "Do you have Coke?"
Osa hesitated. He hadn't planned to sell tonight—but trust was rare, and cash was rarer. "Yes. We can go to my apartment. I only live two blocks away."
They walked until Osa stopped in front of a store.
"You live at a convenience store?" Noah scratched his head.
"I live upstairs in a one-bedroom apartment." Osa unlocked the door next to the store's door. "Wait for me, I'll only be less than two minutes.'
Noah nodded and waited for Osa to return. Osa pulled out a plastic bag full of a white powder substance from the pocket of his jeans.
"For five hundred?" Noah asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Osa's tone turned cold. "Best in Zo-Zo City. Don't haggle."
Noah slid cash across his palm with a grin. "Still cheaper than that bar's Sangria—and my beer wasn't even cold."
Osa pocketed the money. Noah handed him a scrap of paper. "Here's my number. Stay in touch."
Osa tucked the paper into his coat's pocket. He paused in the stairwell, glanced back at Noah, then disappeared into the night.