Higgins And Bradshaw

Two deadly individuals choose a small diner to settle their score, only to be side-tracked by a rather odd waitress.

Higgins And Bradshaw

For a small country town, it seemed like the best place to bring their story to an end. Both Higgins and Bradshaw stared, like two sharks circling one other. Higgins took off his hat, finally, settling it onto the side of the booth table closest to the diner window. Bradshaw kept his on. Black suit, black hat, and black shoes: often the attire of Bradshaw. His sharp eyes could have burned a hole in a lesser man than Higgins. But after years of fighting, near death experiences, and duels to the death, Higgins wasn’t to be taken lightly either. His cream colored choice of clothes was only regretted when bloodshed was necessary. And in their matching line of work, bloodshed was almost always necessary.

“It’s been eight years,” Higgins groaned. Bradshaw said nothing.

Just eyes.

Sharp, accusing eyes filled with years of hatred.

“You realize how lucky I am to be alive?” Bradshaw finally breathed, keeping his boiling temper at bay. He straightened his back, hands beneath the booth. “You’re lucky I even agreed to this meeting.”

“Lucky, he says,” Higgins scoffed, scrunching his face ever so slightly. “Kid, you think luck had anything to do with you still breathing? If it wasn’t for me, you’d-”

“I should have shot you in Mexico,” Bradshaw cut him short. “Should have let the dogs eat your bloated corpse on the streets.”

“You never could keep your cool,” Higgins antagonized. Naturally, Bradshaw took the bait, his face starting to turn red with wrath.

“I had so many chances to kill you,” Bradshaw breathed, hand nestling the handle of his handgun tucked within his jacket. “I don’t know why we’re still talking.”

A red dot appeared on the table, shining through the window glass that was accompanied by moonlight. It slowly began to move towards Bradshaw, creeping up his shoulder, and onto the side of his head. He remained still, closing his eyes out of frustration. Higgins watched his former partner with a keen gaze.

“You kill me,” Higgins warned, “You die.”

The laser vanished, though Bradshaw could still feel the aim of a rifle pointed at his skull. He could only assume it was positioned near the not-so-far woods beside their dining establishment. There was no getting around it.

“Maybe I don’t care if you shoot me,” Bradshaw mentioned, cocking his head a little to the side, eyes lit afire with age-old hatred he had been unable to either bury or resolve over the many painful years prior. “If it means I get to take care of you, then-”

CRASH!

Neither Higgins nor Bradshaw flinched, though they did turn their heads to find a waitress laying on the floor. Water pooled the checkered tile as bits of glass accompanied the nearly formed lake that dribbled towards their booth. Bradshaw released his grip on the gun under the table, sliding it back into his jacket with deft fingers. Only Higgins noticed, though he too was more preoccupied with the waitress who had smashed her face into the floor.

Bradshaw slowly stood from the booth, glancing to the window. Higgins made a gesture his backup would see, making it abundantly clear: don’t shoot.

“Are you okay, miss?” Bradshaw asked the waitress, who was able to lift her face from the floor. She went somewhat cross-eyed, with her blonde hair spilling over her face.

“Thank you, mister,” she croaked. “I think I’ll live.”

He helped her to her feet, with the waitress looking down at her clothes. Dirty and wet, though not discouraged.

“I figured I’d bring some waters out to ya,” she sniffled, with a little blood running down her nose. Higgins had his face wrinkle once more as he pointed to her nose, making a motion of back and forth to his own nose. He went unnoticed for the first few seconds, with Bradshaw seeing the ridiculous motion first. He made a face that resembled that of someone accusing another of being mentally inept. When the waitress saw Higgins bobbing his finger at his nose, she immediately understood, touching beneath her own.

“Oh, yikes,” she muttered. “Well, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back with your waters.”

It didn’t take her long to clean up the mess or return again with two more fresh glasses. This time, however, she did not face-plant, ensuring her shoe was tied this time. As she set the waters down, Higgins and Bradshaw were busy half-looking at the menus before them.

“Know what ya want to eat?” their waitress asked. Higgins lowered his menu, barely.

“How’s the fish basket.”

“Honestly?” the young woman considered. “Haven’t had it myself. I’m allergic to fish. Face would puff up like a puffer fish.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Bradshaw chimed in, his focus still primarily on Higgins. He could still sense the rifle on him. One wrong move, and it would be over. He made sure he was slow and deliberate with each motion of his body.

“Ah, ain’t nothin’ I ain’t used to,” she said with a wave of her hand, holding her pad in the other hand. She reached up, grabbing the pen behind her ear, tapping it against the pad of paper. “Need some time?”

“I think I’ll just try the fish basket,” Higgins told her, glaring back at Bradshaw.

“I’ll order the turkey sandwich with fries,” Bradshaw muttered. Both he and Higgins were eyeing one another again.

As the waitress scribbled down the orders, eyes darting from the list she was penning and the two gentleman that seemed like they were from out of town. Looked like city folk, to her.

“Y’all, uh, together?” she inquired. “Like…. A married couple.”

Both Higgins and Bradshaw stared in sheer disbelief.

“Uh, no ma’am,” Higgins explained.

“Y’all look like a married couple,” she commented, not having a care in the world what words fluttered out of her lips. She brushed some of her blonde hair behind her ear as she continued. “I ‘member when my pa and ma would get nasty to one another. They’d still go out and do things, but would never sit with one another. Just glare all mean like. Ya remind me of ‘em.”

Higgins scrunched his face again.

“Miss, this gentleman is half my age,” he stated.

“I’m also not gay, so-” Bradshaw trailed off, rerouting the conversation entirely. “This gentleman and I don’t get along. We’re here on business.”

“Very old, unnecessary business,” Higgins scoffed.

“Which you caused!” Bradshaw finally burst.

The empty diner fell silent.

“You sure y’all ain’t married?” the waitress wondered aloud. “How ‘bout I ring in your order and leave ya both to business then.”

“You know what,” Higgins considered. “Perhaps you could help us settle a disagreement.”

Bradshaw tossed his hands.

“Oh, for the love of Christ,” he breathed.

“Sure!” their happy waitress beamed. “I’d be more than happy to. Be right back.”

She left them, with Higgins smiling to Bradshaw. In response, his former associate flipped him the bird. Moments later, their waitress returned to their booth, shoving both her hands in her apron pockets as she stood with her legs slightly spread for comfort.

“Now,” she spoke. “What ‘cha both disagreein’ on?”

The smile upon Higgins’ face remained, lacing his fingers together as he rested his hands on the table, turning his body slightly to face their server.

“Well….” Higgins eyes trailed to her name tag. “Betty, you see, my friend-”

“I’m not your friend,” Bradshaw interjected, though went unnoticed as Higgins blazed onward with his explanation.

“-he never agreed with my methods,” Higgins continued, trying to match his words carefully. Years of experience made it easier. “We’re both in sales.”

Bradshaw rolled his eyes.

“Sales, huh?” Betty whistled. “Heard sales jobs were tough.”

“Oh, brutal some days�"absolutely brutal,” Higgins embellished. “My former associate here was tasked by our company to make a sale to rich man in Mexico. Well, the sale never went through, and my associate faced backlash for his failure.”

“You forgot to mention it was your sale too,” Bradshaw growled.

“Which I entrusted you to handle.”

“And I almost got-” Bradshaw cut himself short. The waitress sniffed, blinking a few times as a piece of dust got in her eye.

“Got what?” she asked.

“Fired,” Bradshaw lied.

“Oh, nobody wants that,” Betty nodded.

“In short,” Higgins picked up, “he blames me for not helping him with the sale when I physically could not have assisted.”

“You could have found a way,” Bradshaw snapped.

“For the love of god, man,” Higgins groaned. “I was tied up in a basement with a-”

It was his turn to stop short. He looked back to Betty, whose eyes widened a bit in astonishment.

“You were tied up?”

“Oh, yes, that,” Higgins laughed it off. “A local custom for the people in the city we were working sales in.”

“Sounds frisky,” Betty laughed. “So you were off having a party while your buddy here was working a sale?”

“Oh, I much rather would have been helping him seal the deal,” Higgins interjected. “But you see, the people of that city were very…. Forceful. It would have been an insult to their tradition if I would have left their party.”

“You’ve escaped a dozen parties like that,” Bradshaw spoke up, balling his hands into fists as he leaned forward against the booth table. “You’re only saying that because you didn’t want me to succeed.”

“My success would have been your success.”

“Oh, you slimy piece of-”

“Hold it, hold it!” Betty the waitress protested, getting both men to stop their bickering. “Sounds like this job was real important to you.”

“Some days it feels like life and death,” Higgins admitted.

“That’s an understatement,” Bradshaw mumbled, glancing out the window of the diner. He wondered if Higgins’ helper still had him lined up in a scope.

“So why are y’all mad at each other?” Betty asked.

“Because I shouldn’t have been alone for the sale,” Bradshaw answered. “Without help, I was as good as…. Unemployed.”

“There was nothing I could do; I’ve already told you this,” Higgins bit back.

“I would have moved heaven and hell to make sure my partner was okay,” Bradshaw hissed.

“So lemme get this straight,” Betty mused, hands still buried in her apron. “You’re mad because one of y’all get tied up for some kinky party while the other one was making a sale?”

“I wouldn’t call it kinky,” Higgins muttered.

“Sure, we’ll just stick with that,” Bradshaw said, finally smiling for once. He saw Higgins scrunch his wrinkled face again. Betty, their wonderful waitress, nodded, thinking for a second. She finally removed her hands from her apron, just to place them on her hips.

“And you say it wasn’t your fault?” she asked Higgins. In return, he nodded.

“That is correct, miss. My former coworker here cannot accept this fact.”

“Well, you could at least start by apologizin’,” Betty the waitress decided. “It might not have been somethin’ you could avoid, but you could still show you’re sorry ‘bout havin’ a friend in a situation like that.”

Higgins said nothing.

“I like the way you think, Betty,” Bradshaw smirked.

Higgins continued his pledge of silence in his moment of contemplation, finally with his attention moving from the waitress to Bradshaw. In response, Bradshaw raised an eyebrow as the silence continued.

“And I think you should forgive your friend for leaving you in that situation,” their waitress added. “I don’t think he would have allowed it to happen if he could have avoided it. Ain’t that right, mister.”

“That is correct,” Higgins stated, locking eyes with Bradshaw. “I apologize. Please forgive me for not being able to help you with…. The sale.”

Bradshaw leaned back. It was his turn to consider.

After all the years of back and forth�"cat and mouse. It was exhausting. So much wasted money, effort, and time…. Over what?

“I guess it’s stupid holding a grudge like this,” Bradshaw sighed. “I’ve spent too many years tracking you down. And now, when we finally meet again….”

“I truly am sorry,” Higgins cut in. “Maybe there was a way I could have helped with the sale. But-”

“Oh, just forget it,” Bradshaw shook his head. “I’ve wasted enough time trying to kill you anyway.” Bradshaw finished his sentence, only realizing what came out after it was done. He glanced to the waitress, whose eyes bugged. “Metaphorically, of course!”

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “Y’all take sales seriously, don’t ya?”

Higgins and Bradshaw glanced at one another before looking back to Betty.

“It’s a cut-throat industry, I assure you,” Higgins affirmed.

As time passed, their order finally rang in the window, with Betty swaying her hips to the food counter. Bradshaw took a slow sip from his ice water.

“So, you finally willing to drop the matter?” Higgins inquired.

“If you pay the bill,” was Bradshaw’s quick-witted reply.

Once more, Higgins’ face wrinkled, but this time with a smile.

Author's Note

Thanks to this website being old as dirt with little to no interaction from those who run it, I can't indent. Enjoy the story for what it's worth.

Reviews

[RKB]

I thought the opening line was really striking. I could definitely see some of the humor poking through. Fun story.

[Kane Hagwood]

Thank you for the review :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.