An hour later, Gavin sat at Carl’s dinner table, wondering if he or his giant host were the crazier.
“So you’re telling me you’re the actual Green Knight? Like in the King Arthur stories?”
“Of course. You t’ink all dem stories just make beleef? Two t’ousand years, and you t’ink I get so much as von penny from dose damn storytellers? It is such shit, I tell you true!”
Gavin stared in fascination, seeing the faint red line around Carl’s neck. He looked over at the guillotine, at the dark stain below the wooden notch. The guy might turn out to be a con artist, but it was sure one hell of a trick.
“So…what is it you want me to do? I’m not sure we can prove you’re the real Green Knight…” Wheels were grinding back to life in Gavin’s mind, reminding him that he also was just a con artist of sorts.
“Look. I don’t know if we can get anything from a beer company. I mean, it’s not like you have a registered trademark on Green Knight.” He stood and began to pace. “We might be able to score pretty big, though…wrongful death…reckless endangerment…”
“Vat you talk about, Mr. Baddock? I’m not dead. I cannot die. I t’ought I showed you such.”
“Yeah, but…” Gavin stopped his muttering and pacing. He was seeing himself in a Maserati, trophy girl du jour beside him. Nice big house on West Paces Ferry. Penthouse office in Midtown.
“Listen to me, Carl. No one besides me knows about your…um…talent, right?”
“Vell, Oberon does. Votan, T’or, few odders.”
Gavin blinked, then put the names out of his mind. One demigod was enough for now.
“I don’t think we have to worry about them spilling your beans.” He sat back at the table, leaning forward slightly with hands clasped, his I’m-a-real-lawyer-you-can-trust-me pose.
“We can get rich, Carl. I mean filthy, stinking, obscenely rich! We get you a wife who can play the poor widow. We arrange your accidental beheading every few months. Sue some poor slob…no, no individuals. Some poor corporation for your death and your bereft widow’s pain and suffering.”
Gavin didn’t see the apartment with its weird décor anymore. He was seeing an end to chasing ambulances and car wrecks. An end to wondering how he’d ever pay off his house and student loan. An end to everything except a wonderful life of luxury.
“Ah, I see,” Carl said, smiling broadly. “So you dream of vealth and glory?”
“Who doesn’t?” Gavin looked at Carl, wondering if the big guy was serious. “Who doesn’t want to rise above? The desire for excellence, the drive to succeed, the hope that we can make ourselves better. That’s what makes us human.”
“Dat has forever been true,” Carl agreed. “Hokay. Ve can vork togedder. But, you vill need to always be dere to collect me, if I am playing dead. I don’t vant to spend no more time in cold freezer boxes dan I haf to.”
“We’ll need to find a couple of paramedics we can trust—”
“No! YOU be the ambulance driver. Find cops who don’t ask kvestions if dey are paid. You can do de correct papers ve vill need?”
Finally! Something he was confident about. “Oh, sure. No problem. I’ve been doing my own medical records for cases for years. I know a couple of people in all the courthouses.”
City officials in the Metro Atlanta area did not get paid well at all.
Not by the city, anyway.
“Good!” Carl said. “Vy don’t ve start here? Dis bastard landlord has alvays been an asshole. I vill enjoy taking his money for nothing, instead of de odder vay around for a change.”