George left town shortly after that, having been paid a handsome sum by the mayor’s office for his services. Ted took over his forman’s job unsurprisingly but already had his eyes on a position a bit higher up in the salt mine, maybe that one currently occupied by Perchy Jeff. George gave his grill to Eddie as a parting gift, thus the start of the all important hobby that got him hooked up with Wanda Marsha Ginger in the first place. Back there at the beginning of this section, over in Big Sandy on the old Bellissaria continent where he dug out her stuck VW. We’ll return there soon. First things first, though.
“How good a listener are you, Nas?” he asked after she poured his drink, a frosty beer with a pinch of root in it, ginger like his girl. He was down in the local dive bar below the apartment. Back in the Broadwater section of town, off the grid for sure since the roads only go about 2/3rds the way ’round the square place.
“Good as you wish, tee hee. What do you have in mind? Big Boy?”
“No, nothing like that,” Eddie waved off the suggestion, still happy at home of course. “I need something more like a sounding board. To air my thoughts. Old Man George split town, you see. I could bounce stuff off him like it was rubber.”
“I’m a good bouncer,” she tried again, eager for a trick and a tail herself.
He reached over and grabbed the handle on his beer, took a sip. “Listen, you’ve been here a pretty long time. Just like George. I mean, before he left and all.”
“5 years,” she said. “Going on 9.” She knew the numbers didn’t add up but neither did time here.
“Do you recall… the Ozark Mtn. Daredevils? They had a cook who died. Got murdered actually.” He of course didn’t add, “Ginger thinks she’s this cook.” Not yet. Maybe after a couple of root laced beers, maybe 5-9.
Nas thinks back, tries to remember. “Lot of rock bands come through here,” she excused her memory. “Ozzie Osbourne played over at the beach that has his name now in its honor (for instance).”
“Didn’t know that,” Eddie replied to this, contemplating a possible connection between the two. “Is that where he ate the bat?”
“No that was up in the real world somewhere. As virtual as the act sounds, I know. But: real.”
“Hmm.” Eddie wasn’t so sure about that. Nor the reality of the Ozmo Devils being in Meat City. 4th. He remembers Golden (psychic) telling him about the 4th. Pay attention to it, she said. Look for it; be aware of it. Gold itself.
“The glam rocker Donovan was another act that came through,” Nas recalled, trying to be as helpful as possible, stay on Eddie’s good side. Because she still had designs. Despite his seeming happiness. Events could turn, she knew. And she could be waiting in the wings. “But they corrupted the spelling when a sim was also named for him. Donathan it became, a typist’s error at the then mayor’s office. Ray Blueberry, a Marshian from up in Big Swamp. Didn’t last long after that. Lot’s of glam rock fans around here. Bowie could come down from his Black Death Star and be a god of this place if he wished.”
Yes, thought Eddie. Nas the bartender will be helpful. Likes to talk. Seems pretty smart. He’ll overlook the sluttiness. He won’t tumble for another. Surely Ginger will come around. Or whatever her name was, he ends.
Sunklands 