This is a Test

Ch. 13

Cashe poured the coffee into one of the nearby mugs. Heat radiated off the stainless steel pot, and he gauged that the brew was hot enough to scald skin, just the way he liked it. He could hear loud talking and faint steps from the Garden, enough to know that Dante had left the Lounge to head his way. Now was the time. Cashe's next actions were a gamble, but worth it if successful.

He balled his left hand into a fist, yawned loudly as he turned, and rubbed the heel of his palm into his left eye, squinting as he walked out of the Kitchen. Cashe realized that his actions would leave him blind to any perpetual attacks by the killer, but since the murderer was trying to hide in the first place, perhaps the person would imagine his stealth gambit was successful.

He passed the island counter unmolested and soon crossed paths with Dante. "Coffee's ready," Cashe said brightly.

The man stormed by him. How rude, Cashe thought. What have I ever done to him? He walked off sipping his coffee, wondering what the outcome would be. There was a chance the assailant would kill Dante quietly and then stalk after Cashe, or while both men had their backs to him, the killer may try to sneak away unseen. There was also the possibility–

Dante's high-pitched scream ended the sneaking away theory. Cashe feigned shock as he turned with his cup at his lips.

"Help! Murderer! Cashe, help!"

Cashe looked, but Dante was no longer visible until a tussle of hair popped up from behind the counter before sinking out of sight once more. The problem now was that if the killer murdered Dante and disappeared again, Cashe would get blamed. He felt a moral responsibility to help the man, now that he had learned to stop calling Cashe Randy.

Cashe took a last sip of his coffee while it was still good and hot, and placed the mug on the counter. As he walked around it into the Kitchen, he saw Dante and the murderer embroiled in battle. Cashe had never watched any martial arts fighting, but he knew a grappling style was now in vogue, but he felt it didn't look like the scene at his feet.

Dante was on his back with one arm around the murderer's neck. His other hand has his thumb hooked in the guy's mouth, his pinkie jabbed in the ear, and his middle finger poking the man's eye as perhaps a symbolic 'fuck you.' His adversary was on Dante on his back as well, trying to punch over his own head into Dante's face. Some blows hit his chin and nose, but these appeared more annoyances than anything else. The stranger's legs were in the area, bucking down on the ground and one time landing on Dante's knee. His cohabitant winced as he saw Cashe above. "Help, for fuck's sake!"

Cashe nodded and as he surveyed the bar counter, he caught view of the women's heads peering at them from the Garden's entranceway. Cashe was pleased that they would see that he was not the aggressor in this moment. He picked up a dish towel at the sink, used it to grab the end of a frying pan, and extended it within Dante's reach. If he was going to help Dante by providing him with a blunt weapon, he certainly wasn't going to be leaving any fingerprints on it.

Dante, ingrate that he was, did not seem to appreciate Cashe's gift, as he glared at Cashe before releasing his Three-Fingered Facial Death Grip to grab the handle of the pan which he smacked against his foe's side. The killer squealed and brought his heel down between Dante's legs, resulting in a marching squeal from his opponent.

Dante released his hold on the man, who rolled away and stumbled towards the pantry, gripping his side. Dante, to his credit, tossed the pan wildly and connected with the guy's right leg, causing the intruder to trip as he knocked the door open with his fall before shutting it behind him.

"Is there someone else in here?" Karina screamed, causing Cashe to notice the women were closer now, Karina having reached the Kitchen. "How the fuck did he get in here?"