At 12:00 p.m. on Friday, June 6th, Quinn’s watch beeped. He sat up on the bed as reality brought the gavel down on his endorphins.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” Sam asked.
“I have my daughter this weekend. I need to get groceries and clean the place up before she arrives.”
“I see. Is it safe to assume you’re a single dad?”
“Perfectly safe. It’s also safe to assume that I’m the only single dad in Grey Grove who ate magic mushrooms and spent the night in the forest.”
“Well today’s your lucky day, because I don’t charge single dads who eat magic mushrooms and spend the night in the forest.”
“Wait…you’re a…I mean…I didn’t know.”
She smiled and sat up on the bed, “I suppose that’s because you weren’t a client to me,” she said as she buttoned up her pyjama top. “You’re obviously not the moralizing type, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you that you look a lot like my brother.”
“It’s simple. You played the role of my brother in my inappropriate sex fantasy. I hope you don’t mind.”
Quinn pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt, “Nobody in their right mind would mind the things you just did to me,” he said.
“I’m an artist.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“I guess now might be a good time to tell you that I had a prophetic dream about you.”
“I was in the bathroom of a crashing plane, making out with a stewardess…who said her name was Sam.”
“But I didn’t tell you my name until today.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Does this mean you’re some kind of sleeping prophet, like Edgar Cayce?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Maybe you channeled my brother’s spirit. Did you feel different in any way while I was going down on you?”
Quinn laughed, but stopped abruptly when he registered everything she had said, “He passed away?”
“Yes. Car accident.”
“Please,” she said, cutting him off, “don’t say that. I’ll have to charge you full price if you do.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“Good,” she said.
*excerpt from the Omnibus Edition of Taxicab to Wichita and Bus Back to Omaha