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There are times when Mac is pretty sure that Charlie is secretly an evil genius who’s been masterminding all of their unhappiness for years to keep the Gang all dependent on one another.
“You’re late, Charlie!”
But then, there are times like today.
“Uh, excuse the shit out of me, Frank, but I have, like, several minutes left before I’m late, thank you very much.”
“Charlie, you were supposed to be here to help with inventory, like, an hour ago.”
“An hour ago? No, that can’t be right.”
“Dennis is right, Charlie. We all agreed to pitch in and help out this time, so it would go faster.”
“Yeah, Mac, and I’m here now. What exactly is your point?”
“My point is that we agreed to meet at six to get started, and it is now - ” Mac peaks down at the numbers lit across the top of his flip phone, “ - five past seven!”
“You really need to pay closer attention when we’re making plans, Charlie,” Dennis says, and it’s not without affection in his voice.
“What, seven? Nah, bro, your time thingy is off. It’s got to be no later than, oh, I’d say five-sixty-five - ”
“That’s not even - ”
“I mean, look outside, the sun’s not even set yet.” Charlie gestures to the bloody red-orange sky outside of the bar window. The Gang looks outside, then back at Charlie, who has that smug look he gets on his face when he thinks he’s proved a point but absolutely has not.
“What the shit does that have to do with the time?” Frank growls, squinting his beady little eyes up at his sleeping partner.
“The sun always sets at six, Frank,” Charlie says with a mocking smile, rolling his eyes at Mac and Dennis. Mac is pretty sure that Charlie’s wrong, but he decides to just let Dennis take this one. He can probably explain it more better than Mac ever could.
“The sun absolutely does not set at six every day, Charlie,” Dennis says in that special, extra-patient voice that he only reserves for Charlie. “The sun sets at different times, depending on what time of the year it is.”
Charlie’s eyes are cast downward, and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together. His lips are pursed forward and open, like there’s a rebuttal or maybe a question forming there, but he’s clearly struggling to find the right words to voice it. Boy can Mac relate to that.
Dennis takes a step away from the bar and puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie, buddy, can you not tell time?” Buddy is Dennis’s special pet name for Charlie. Much like baby boy is for Mac. Mac feels an unpleasant gurgling in the pit of his stomach, which he decides is from hunger, so he squashes the feeling down with a handful of peanuts and a deep swig of his beer. His appetite has really been growing a lot since he decided to start tacking on mass.
“That’s not even - I don’t - What even is time, anyway, you know? And - ” Charlie is a shit liar. Mac isn’t sure how he’s ever been able to pull the wool over any of their eyes during his own schemes. The poor bastard can’t even tell the goddamn time, for Christ’s sake. Mac isn’t sure how he could have ever expected this guy to be a mastermind of anything.
“Holy shit, Charlie, can’t you even read, like, a digital clock?” Dee cuts in. Her bony fingers are on Mac now, digging into his forearm like talons. Mac shakes her off. “You literally just have to know your numbers to read those. Do you know numbers, Charlie?”
“Yes, Dee, I can read a digital clock,” Charlie yells unconvincingly, crossing his arms. “I just prefer to go by the sun’s time, like in High Noon, alright? Why don’t you all just quit busting my balls already, I mean, damn.”
“But Charlie, you don’t even read the sun’s time right!” Frank says over the top of his smart phone. “See that? It says right there that the sun is gonna set tonight at seven thirty-five. The sun sets as late as eight, nine o’clock in the summer and as early as four in the winter!”
“Goddammit, is this why Charlie is always late to work during the summer months?” Dee sneers. Dennis’s hand is still on Charlie’s shoulder. Mac eats another handful of peanuts and starts in on Dennis’s beer instead of getting off of his stool to get himself another one. Dee’s got her talon fingers in him again, digging down into bone. He can’t shake her off this time.
“Do you want me to teach you how to read the clock, Charlie?” Dennis asks smoothly, and he has this look that’s both affectionate and condescending.
“I can teach him - ” Mac starts, but he’s spraying bits of peanut all over his beard.
“No, Mac, you can only read digital,” Dennis cuts in over his shoulder, and Mac feels it again, that stabbing ache in his guts that feels sort of like hunger, but also feels kind of like he wants to just wedge himself into the narrow space between Dennis and Charlie. But Mac stays on his stool because Mac doesn’t think he could fit in there, and Dennis doesn’t put his hands on Mac like that anymore. Mac snatches Dee’s peanuts away from her.
“What do you say, buddy boy?” Dennis asks, and Charlie looks like he’s giving the offer some serious thought. He’s looking over Dennis’s shoulder and straight at Mac now, and Mac thinks he can see the corners of his lips curl up, just a little, just for a second. Yep, Charlie Kelly is an evil, manipulative piece of shit.
After giving his beard hair a few thoughtful tugs, Charlie says, “Yeah, I mean, sure - I guess it’s not so much the numbers that have me confused, you know, because I know my numbers really good.”
“Sure you do, buddy,” Dennis interjects.
“I just don’t get what they have to do with, like, time? And where the sun is in the sky and stuff?” For a moment, Mac thinks that maybe Dennis won’t be able to keep up the nice act any longer, will snap and say that Charlie is a hopeless cause. Instead, Dennis grabs his jacket and says,
“Alright, well, why don’t we go to the store and buy you a fancy new time piece like mine?” He flashes his wristwatch to Charlie before shimmying into his jacket. “Then we can go find someplace quiet to talk about time.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” Charlie says, and Mac doesn’t buy into that bullshit innocent act for one goddamn minute.
“Wait, wait a minute,” Frank calls out to their retreating backs, “what about inventory night?”
“Sorry Frank, but my buddy’s got an important problem that we need to solve,” Dennis says, opening the door for Charlie and grinning toothily at Frank. “This has got to take top priority, but, uh, you guys can manage without us, right? Okay.”
“Goddammit, you assholes, don’t leave me alone here with Mac and Frank!” Dee screams, but the door has already closed behind them. Dee and Mac turn to look at each other in the uncomfortable silence that falls over the bar. Mac is pretty sure she’s thinking what he’s thinking, and he’d almost feel kind of bad for her if he didn’t have his own feelings to worry about.
“Well, it looks like you two suckers got played,” Frank finally says, breaking their staring contest.
“Oh, what the hell is that supposed to mean, Frank?” Mac says through a fresh mouthful of peanuts.
“Looks like you two are getting saddled with inventory duty.”
“Yeah, well, so are you,” Dee says.
“Nah, I’ve got a hot date with a Russian model I met online,” Frank says with a wag of his eyebrows, picking up his own jacket. “I mean, she’s technically my wife. I met her through one of those mail order bride websites. I’m meeting her for the first time tonight, so let’s hope she’s a hot as her profile picture. I will not be burned by these dirty Russians again. If Miss Russia ain’t at least a nine, it’s back to St. Petersburgh!”
“Oh, goddamn! You piece of shit!”
“That is such bullshit, Frank!”
“See you two sad clowns later! I’m off to get my nuts juggled by the missus,” Frank says, and he’s out the door, too. Another long, awkward silence falls on the bar until -
“Screw this. You wanna go snort some Adderall and see what Rex the model is up to?”
“You read my mind. Let me go home and put on my mesh shirt first.”
“Mac, you can’t even fit into that thing anymore. You’ve gotten, like, so fat.”
“Screw you, bitch, I’m cultivating mass so I can be as buff as Rex! Do I tell you every time I think you look fat?”
“Yes, actually. All the time, every day.”
Mac doesn’t have a rebuttal to that. He just hopes the Adderall won’t curb his appetite too much. He hasn’t had time to finish carbo-loading for the day yet.