of his mother, pulling exactly the same face as he is now, looks just like him.
'Good work officer Garland', Frank says, commending him. 'Next to Edwards, you look like a fucking sheriff. Go get yourself a treat from the cookie jar and don't come back until you've got something more solid for me to go on. Go on fuck off, I've had enough bad news for one day.'
Garland nods.
'Sir', he says by way of a goodbye, and disappears back out to the chaos of the open plan office he works in.
The assistant returns to the shop floor with a selection of real hair wigs that once belonged to the local theatre company.
'I think your sister might be in luck', he says placing the wigs down onto the counter top and pushing them around unnecessarily once there. 'As long as she doesn't mind it smelling a little bit stale, although I guess she can just wash that whole odour off. I've got several different shades of blonde, from the almost white, through the golden sun-kiss, to the nearly brunette, that I'm sure will serve your purpose just fine. What do you reckon?'
'I reckon you've outdone yourself', River says, picking up the golden one, with thin fair hair that would almost reach Maddy's waist.
'You learn anything new?' The assistant says. 'I see you switched off that junk.'
'Nothing more than the fact that perhaps I better work out more, if girls fall in love with fellas because of their arms', River says, and the both of them share a laugh. 'I reckon this'll be just perfect.'
'Now son', the assistant says fidgeting even more than usual, 'I reckon I ought to let you know, before you get your hopes up and all that, that these wigs are real hair, and they don't come cheap. People used to lease them on a day by day basis, and it was the cost of them that forced me to change the quality of my stock.'
'That doesn't matter', River says. 'I'll buy it outright. I've got money to spend, and no cost is too much for my baby sister.'
'I'm talking six hundred dollars, but we can work out a deal if you want to maybe only take it for a few days or so. Just to give her the idea.'
'That's alright', River says. He takes the roll of one hundred dollar bills out of his pocket again, counts out six and passes them to the assistant, who seems a little shocked by the young man's wealth. He takes the money, looks at the boy, licks his fingers and counts it in the same jerky way he does everything else.
'I'm a bit of a businessman myself', River confesses, by way of an explanation. 'I've got a parcel of land up north and I breed horses. Some for steer, some for racing. All of it pretty lucrative.'
'I can see', the assistant says, holding up the money.
He wraps up the wig, with more care than he's given a client's purchase for years, and hands the parcel over to River.
'You make sure she enjoys that now', he says to him.
'I will', River says. 'This is going to change her life, I promise you that.'
With a smile, he's on his way back outside, and the old assistant is sat back down again, the TV up on the stand behind him for company.
Before River returns to the motel, he gets a haircut and a cut-throat razor shave, that makes him look even younger and more handsome than he does already, and he buys new boots, new shirts and new jeans. It isn't much of a new look, more of a smartening up of the old one, but the patterns are different enough at least to the clothes he was wearing during the raid to throw somebody off a scent if they ever get one. It's enough of an effort River figures to cover his back and make absolutely sure. Their main focus is Maddy, so as long as she looks nothing like the woman he took hostage from the bank, nobody's likely to give them a second look.
When River finally gets back to his current home, he's absolutely starving, a hunger which not even rolled up cigarettes will cut through.
Arms loaded down with bags, including Maddy's handbag and the bag of stolen money from the bank, he enters the motel room once more,
'Good work officer Garland', Frank says, commending him. 'Next to Edwards, you look like a fucking sheriff. Go get yourself a treat from the cookie jar and don't come back until you've got something more solid for me to go on. Go on fuck off, I've had enough bad news for one day.'
Garland nods.
'Sir', he says by way of a goodbye, and disappears back out to the chaos of the open plan office he works in.
The assistant returns to the shop floor with a selection of real hair wigs that once belonged to the local theatre company.
'I think your sister might be in luck', he says placing the wigs down onto the counter top and pushing them around unnecessarily once there. 'As long as she doesn't mind it smelling a little bit stale, although I guess she can just wash that whole odour off. I've got several different shades of blonde, from the almost white, through the golden sun-kiss, to the nearly brunette, that I'm sure will serve your purpose just fine. What do you reckon?'
'I reckon you've outdone yourself', River says, picking up the golden one, with thin fair hair that would almost reach Maddy's waist.
'You learn anything new?' The assistant says. 'I see you switched off that junk.'
'Nothing more than the fact that perhaps I better work out more, if girls fall in love with fellas because of their arms', River says, and the both of them share a laugh. 'I reckon this'll be just perfect.'
'Now son', the assistant says fidgeting even more than usual, 'I reckon I ought to let you know, before you get your hopes up and all that, that these wigs are real hair, and they don't come cheap. People used to lease them on a day by day basis, and it was the cost of them that forced me to change the quality of my stock.'
'That doesn't matter', River says. 'I'll buy it outright. I've got money to spend, and no cost is too much for my baby sister.'
'I'm talking six hundred dollars, but we can work out a deal if you want to maybe only take it for a few days or so. Just to give her the idea.'
'That's alright', River says. He takes the roll of one hundred dollar bills out of his pocket again, counts out six and passes them to the assistant, who seems a little shocked by the young man's wealth. He takes the money, looks at the boy, licks his fingers and counts it in the same jerky way he does everything else.
'I'm a bit of a businessman myself', River confesses, by way of an explanation. 'I've got a parcel of land up north and I breed horses. Some for steer, some for racing. All of it pretty lucrative.'
'I can see', the assistant says, holding up the money.
He wraps up the wig, with more care than he's given a client's purchase for years, and hands the parcel over to River.
'You make sure she enjoys that now', he says to him.
'I will', River says. 'This is going to change her life, I promise you that.'
With a smile, he's on his way back outside, and the old assistant is sat back down again, the TV up on the stand behind him for company.
Before River returns to the motel, he gets a haircut and a cut-throat razor shave, that makes him look even younger and more handsome than he does already, and he buys new boots, new shirts and new jeans. It isn't much of a new look, more of a smartening up of the old one, but the patterns are different enough at least to the clothes he was wearing during the raid to throw somebody off a scent if they ever get one. It's enough of an effort River figures to cover his back and make absolutely sure. Their main focus is Maddy, so as long as she looks nothing like the woman he took hostage from the bank, nobody's likely to give them a second look.
When River finally gets back to his current home, he's absolutely starving, a hunger which not even rolled up cigarettes will cut through.
Arms loaded down with bags, including Maddy's handbag and the bag of stolen money from the bank, he enters the motel room once more,
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