Six in the morning was far too early for mischief-making. Most were still in bed, or just waking up.
It was certainly too early for whatever it was Shark was doing.
“Good morning!” The brunet was unusually perky and awake for an early hour. He provided a stark contrast for his still groggy father, who was munching away at slightly burnt toast.
Dennis looked up mid-chew at the video camera being pointed at him, and groaned.
“Isn’t it a little early for your usual shenanigans?” The elder Racket tried waving the camera away.
Shark seemed to ignore his question. “What do you want for Father’s Day, Dad?”
The patriarch shrugged, reaching for a coffee mug he was using. “I’m not particularly picky. Hell, you don’t got to get me anything.”
“Well, come on! There has to be something we can get you.”
“Really, now? Is it that important that you get something for your old man? Well, in that case…”
Dennis finished off his coffee before continuing. “You know that one show I seem to have become fond of? The one with the biker gang? Oh hell, I forget the name of that show…”
“Sons of Anarchy?” A snap of the fingers and a pointed finger gave the sign that Shark was correct.
“I’ve seen that they’ve got some gently used merchandise at the consignment store here in town. I would very much appreciate it if you could get me something related to that series. Sound good?”
Shark made an affirmative noise. The camera then followed Dennis over to the kitchen sink, where he set his empty dishes. He then turned to look at his son again, and reached for the camera.
“All right, now. Camera time is over. Turn it off, you little turkey.”
Sinbad lay on the couch by the window, watching his boyfriend file through the clothes hanging on the nearest rack.
“You really gotta get him something? Is it that important to you?”
Shark nodded. “It is. It’s kind of a big deal. Last year, I wasn’t able to get him anything. And the year before that, the gift I got him fell into the wrong hands.”
“And by ‘wrong hands’ you mean…?”
At this question came a weary sigh, along with the answer: “My grandma tried using it to resurrect Hunter S. Thompson.”
Sinbad had nothing to say to that, save for an incredulous, “Okay.” He then looked around the shop, and noticed something interesting.
“Speaking of grandma, do your other relatives come here at all?”
“Sometimes. Why?” Sinbad then gestured towards a sign taped up on the wall. The words ‘DO NOT ALLOW THIS MAN ON THE PREMISES’ was prominently displayed, with an arrow pointing downward.
Under that was a picture of Uncle Bill in the shop, eating a club sandwich.
“Does it say what else he did?” Sinbad got up and tried squinting to get a better look at the list of Bill’s grievances that was posted next to his picture.
“Yeah, it does. Uh, ‘public drunkenness, disturbance of the peace, indecent exposure, grand theft auto’…”
Before he said the next crime, the redhead tripped over a large pile of various movies.
Shark watched, dismayed to see his boyfriend topple over along with the enormous stack of DVDs.
“Oh, jeez…Sinbad, are you okay?” Sinbad nodded.
“I’m good. And don’t worry about me. Worry about anyone who wanted to watch…” He pulled out one of the DVD cases he was sitting on, and read the title of some slightly obscure documentary.
“So how’d your little shopping spree go?” Dennis was slipping his boots on for work when he saw the other two come through the door.
Both men held bags with quite a few sets of clothes. Sinbad pulled out a hopefully more modest swimsuit than before. At the least, this one would likely stay on him should he decide to go swimming again this summer.
“Pretty good, though apparently I owe money to cover damages at the Consignment Store. Long story.”
The older man sighed at hearing that, and shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t care if it’s the longest story in the universe. As long as the bills get paid this month, go ahead and give them what’s needed.”
“Uh, okay.” Sinbad was afraid to tell Dennis how much he really destroyed.
“Now I have to get myself to work. Equipment doesn’t set itself up you know.” Dennis patted both men on the shoulder, as he walked toward the door. “Be good, and don’t set anything on fire.”
“Okay, let’s be honest,” the redhead stated as he and Shark looked over their haul. “How many other places sell a ninety dollar vest at half off?”
“Probably just that one.” Shark took a gander at the rather good condition vest before him. “I don’t see anything wrong with it, so…who knows?”
Sinbad picked it up, and appeared to inspect it for stains or burns. “Maybe something bad happened to the person it used to belong to.”
“Could be.” At that, the two stuck the future Father’s Day gift under their bed, and put everything else away.
“Dude, what’s with the camera, anyway?” Sinbad and Shark were getting ready for bed that night, when Shark decided he was going to film anything going on again.
“I don’t know. I found it in one of the boxes that didn’t get unpacked. Still had some charge in it, so I thought I’d try it out.”
The redhead opened his mouth, as if to say something smart-assed, when the phone rang out in the living room.
Both men looked at each other, neither having expected a call. They waited to see if the caller would give up after enough rings.
At least a full minute went by, or it felt like it to them. When it seemed as if the phone would never stop ringing, Sinbad finally caved and went to answer it.
“Yeah?” Shark could hear him in the other room, as he filmed himself wiggling his toes. “Oh, what the fuck do you want?”
The conversation that followed sounded brief, yet intense. Sinbad’s emotions ranged from frustration, to displeasure, and then to worry.
After that, silence. Then the phone was hung up, and footsteps were heard back to the bedroom.
“Who was on the phone?” Sinbad seemed reluctant to answer.
“No one. Wrong number. Turn that off and let’s get some sleep.” Shark complied, clicking off the camera as Sinbad got in on his side of the bed.
Sinbad kept his back turned towards Shark that night. He didn’t want to say the truth about who the so-called mistaken caller was.