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“It’s hot.”
“Amazing development. Keep us updated.”
Q wrinkled his nose at his friend’s venom. It was hot. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin like a damp washcloth, which ironically was Q’s go-to remedy for such heat. This heat; this muggy, bright, offensive heat that chokes your lungs and binds you to the cool relief of indoors, to greedily hog the air conditioning for hours on end. But they weren’t anywhere near such luxuries, being in the park and confined to the shade of the oak trees. Q drained his water bottle, which was sweating as much as he was, and crinkled the stiff plastic in one large hand. He was still thirsty and couldn’t do anything about this heat until he got more water.
“Joe, give me your water.”
“No, asshole.”
“Why?” Q demanded; the heat had made his patience all but disappear entirely.
“You know why,” Joe quipped and drank his water, more than half-full and cool enough to let condensation bead over his hand, “I’m not an idiot.”
Q huffed and hunched over, wiping away the sweat that had collected under the brim of his hat, “This is discrimination.”
“Cry me a river, water boy.”
Well he would say that. Joe had been on a hot streak—pardon the pun—for the past few days, with each passing one growing hotter and muggier than the last. The others had been putting up with it well enough, save Q, but mostly because he just couldn’t stand this heat. Murr had more of a leaning towards his bearded friend’s perspective, preferring to draw up cooling winds whenever Joe’s heatwave really got out of control, but Sal? Sal couldn’t care less. The earth kept itself cool, after all.
Q turned his attention to the man in question, who’d been scrolling through his phone for the past 15 minutes. He wasn’t even sweating, the son of a bitch. Q nudged his husky friend, jarring him from his trance-like state.
“Water?”
Sal reacted instinctively and almost gave him his bottle, still full and capped and blessedly cold. Q could see the condensation and felt his mouth dry up in anticipation. Just as he reached to take it, Joe cleared his throat and met Sal with a white-hot stare. Thinking better of it, Sal put the water aside, “Nah, man.”
“You guys are assholes. Murr, buddy, come on.”
The smallest of the four men looked between his friends, who said nothing, but their expressions were as good as shouts. Murr’s hand twitched uncertainly before finally surrendering the last half of his water bottle. Joe yelled at him, cursing the younger man’s weak resolve, and Sal quietly bemoaned the impending fate as Q chugged the bottle. So much for a sunny day.
Soon enough, the cheap plastic crinkled under Q’s victorious grip. Joe looked upwards, watching the thin, almost translucent clouds that had accompanied their beautiful day transform. Slowly, but noticeably, the clouds amassed and grew heavy with rain. The slight breeze that had once carried low-lying heat whipped up into an ominous wind as static began to fill the air. Q smiled cheekily at Joe and stood, rolling the knuckles of his left hand. Joe stood, cursing Q out under his breath when he heard that first roll of thunder.
“You’re a son of a bitch, Q.”
“Hey, you had your turn,” Q pulled out his umbrella just as it began to rain, “Time to let the water boy have his fun.”
Like that, the rain poured, soaking the three others as they scrambled under Q’s modestly sized umbrella. Sal and Joe fought the hardest for shelter, kicking Murr out. Angered, he swept a gust right up the bottom of Q’s umbrella, scattering it away and underfoot of those running for cover from the sudden storm. Q laughed while his friends squabbled, not minding the downpour.
“Let’s go,” he shoved them, “Before y’all get too wet.”