Background Players

By David Macpherson

Who do you call a criminal?

 

It can't be Martha and Emily. They help the criminals, but does that make them crooks as well?

 

The Sisters are just trying to make a living. They will bring illicit materials to mob bosses. They will copyedit notes announcing that this is a bank robbery. They will teach others how to distribute counterfeit money. They will also drug and transport people. They will not do terrible things to them, just transport them.

 

Does that make them bad?

 

In these stories, Emily and Matha will try to get by in this crazy world we find ourselves in. '

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Macpherson
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224334292

Book preview

Black Attache Case, Behind the Books About Museums

Martha was spinning in circles, like an unbalanced top, as she moved down the stacks of library books. She was humming to herself, but not sharing enough of the melody or the words so no one could tell what it was and join in. She was being greedy with the song.

Her sister, Emily, followed behind her, grumbling, We are in public. Please act like that, will you?

Martha stopped and glared at Emily. Killjoy. No one is around. No one can see me. No one can hear me.

Emily pushed her sister forward and they both started to walk down the aisle of underutilized books once more. It’s not about being conspicuous or sticking out. This is about acting in the typical manner of the place. We want to be environment specific.

Martha craned her neck back to see her sister and asked, Is this case being cased? She giggled. I mean, is the item we are supposed to pick up being observed? Are there lookouts in the non-fiction section? Is that what you’re thinking?

Emily barked out a shard of laughter. I am now. She lowered her voice and said, Let’s just get the item and be moving on. She took the empty backpack from her shoulder and unzipped it as they approached the books between 700 and 720. They were in the land of art and art history. The hinterlands.

Emily spoke without benefit of moving lips, It’s behind the 715 books, behind the bottom shelf. Martha did not stop moving forward. She bent her torso down and came up with the attache case and as they continued to the end of the aisle, she swung the arm holding the case behind her and Emily pulled the open backpack around it. Emily zipped it up and had it resting on her back in two seconds.

The two were out of the library and heading toward Pleasant Street. Martha started spinning around again. This time it was not just for fun, but to check for any tails. My goofy behavior is quite useful.

In just a minute, they were on Pleasant Street heading for the Cafe. What do you think is in it? Martha asked.

I don’t know and I don’t care. We were paid to pick something up and bring it to the Cafe. You shouldn’t care either.

There is a difference between caring about something and just being curious. And that is me, my dear, I am a curious little piglet.

Piglet is right.

The library to Pleasant Cafe is what? A quarter of a mile? A half mile? Something like that? So we have to wonder, why pay both of us for walking something that small a distance.

Not our issue.

Never said it was, but what do you think is in it? I am officially nosey.

Emily sighed. It’s a package. That’s all it is. It is a solid block of none of your business. A package.

Now it could be cash. It could be drugs. Those are always the good bets.

Boring, Emily said.

Just because it is boring, doesn’t mean it isn’t cash or drugs. Maybe both.

Emily said, It could be incriminating evidence. Dirty pictures.

Or severed limbs, Martha said a little too loudly.

Your games will get us in trouble one day.

I think it’s a bomb, Martha said in a chastened voice.

Emily flinched. Bomb is not a good word. Not a good thing to mix about with.

I’m not saying this is good or bad. I just think this is a bomb.

Why would you think such things? Emily asked. She never understood how her sister thought or created worlds with beliefs.

Because they are paying us too much for it to be a simple exchange. Because money is the best indicator for bad things.

Yeah, then maybe it’s a bomb, Emily said. But we ain’t digging into it to find out. We are just going to bring it to the cafe and drop it off.

Martha nodded. We can leave and they can pay us later.

No, Emily said. No. We get paid. I would rather be blown up than walk away from money.

Martha nodded. She agreed enough to not upset her sister anymore. You know what, as long as we don’t open the case, it is everything and nothing.

What?

As long as we don’t know, it is money or drugs or a bomb or flowers. Yeah. It’s flowers.

It’s not flowers, Emily said.

They walked into the Cafe. Theiry guywas sitting at a table. Emily gently put the bookbag on the table and Martha just as gently unzipped the bag and gave the guy his briefcase.

The guy invited them to sit. We have places to be,Emily said. She stood there unmoving, not breathing, until the guy took an envelope from his jacket and gave it to Emily. She turned and left the cafe, with Martha right there.

That’s not like you, Martha said.

What?

"You didn’t stop to count the money. You always counted the money.

I wanted to leave. You wanted to leave too. We left.

Come on. You haven’t even opened the envelope to look. You don’t even know for sure if there is money in it.

Emily laughed. With a closed envelope, it could be anything.

It is everything.

I got drugs in there.

And a bomb.

Emily said, But you know what really is in that envelope? Flowers.

Martha agreed. Definitely flowers. :

It Is Always Better to Quit Before You Are Fired

This was a day for drinking. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow was the sober pursuit of finding a new job. But right now, it was about drinking. Nolan was having fireballs. They were disgusting, but they were the special of the day and he had to now watch his money.

A pretty girl with unharnessed hair sat down next to him at the bar. She looked right at him. Fiery cinnamon drinks are never a good look.

Nolan felt defensive. I’m not drinking it for your approval.

Good thing, because I do not approve. I care too much for your stomach lining and for the betterment of drinking to recommend fireballs. The girl beamed. And my sister does not approve.

On the other side of him, another girl sat down. Her hair was under control. She said in a clipped tone, FIreballs or Hot Damn or whatever they are called are nightmares. The only reason they are the special is that no one drinks it otherwise. This is a bargain basement drink.

I’m not asking you either, Nolan shot back.

And you can do better, Nolan, the mousy one, the sister said.

"You should stop