ii.
So there's definitely a learning curve when it comes to the Rowdy Three adjusting to their fifth member. Early on, she's a little shyer around them, and she puts it off as long as she can, filling up on beer the first time she spends a full day with them, but she regrets it in the morning—as they're all stirring awake around the dying embers of the fire, her stomach lets out an unholy rumble that has all four of the guys laughing sleepily but hysterically at her.
She groans, hungover and mortified but mostly just hungry. "Oh, my god," she says, curling around her wretchedly empty stomach, "I'm gonna die."
"Oh, no you're not, drummer girl," Martin says, lighting his first cigarette of the day—he hasn't even bothered to get up yet, lying on his back across the fire from her, head pillowed on one bent elbow.
"You're not getting rid of us that easily," Cross adds as he rolls to his feet and trudges off into the brush. Half-asleep still, Gripps hands her an unopened beer that he had stashed somewhere on his person—it's warm and frothy, but she drinks it gratefully, glad for both the hair of the dog and the calories, and doesn't expect anything more, because if the guys ever did need normal human food they sure as hell don't anymore. Given that they only eat about once every day in a good week, she doesn't think they'll know just what and how much she needs despite their best intentions, and resigns herself to figuring something out as soon as they're back in town.
As soon as they're all loaded into the van with their stuff, Martin roars "Breakfast time, boys!" and, spurred on by encouraging howls and banging on the sides of the van, he peels out, heading for the city.
Despite that, Amanda still thinks they must be talking about their breakfast (she blames beer first thing in the morning for that) and when they ram into a truck in town, she's feeling sleepy and lethargic and waves them on without her (she blames the beer for that, too). She should really learn not to underestimate them. She doesn't realize what the truck they'd hit was until they're all back in the van, peeling away from the scene of the riot, and Martin bellows "All right, turn your pockets out!", and the others dump a (frankly, obscene) bunch of fresh produce on the van floor.
Amanda's eyes go wide. She's not really the type of girl to squeal, but something high-pitched certainly escapes her as she snatches a pair of oranges rolling by up in one hand, a green apple in the other, and cradles them to her chest as she lifts her eyes to the boys. They're grinning, proud of themselves, and Vogel cackles at the look of wonder on her face.
"What, you thought we were gonna let you starve?" he demands, and then he definitely squeaks as she drops the oranges so she can grab his jacket lapel, dragging him near and planting a noisy kiss directly on his filthy cheek. The others crow and cheer, Martin banging the heel of his hand enthusiastically on the dashboard, and when Vogel finally frees himself he retreats across the van, bright red, looking both embarrassed and pleased. Amanda sets about gathering the food into a pile, shooting happy grins at whichever of the boys glances at her for the rest of the morning.
After that, food is never an issue. They swipe stuff from delivery trucks, takeout guys, and open-air markets all the time. Once, as they bust up a flea market, Amanda finds a battered campfire stove and loads it up on the van before they leave, then boom: she's eating hot meals again.
(She'd feel a lot worse about the rampant amount of stealing they do if not for the fact that Gripps had clued her in to the fact that the Rowdy Three, doing their thing, are actually performing quite the public service. Early on, they'd been cruising in the van, Martin driving, Gripps riding shotgun. Amanda was resting her elbows on the shoulders of their respective seats, suggesting target after target. She was dying to blow off some steam, but Martin kept rejecting her suggestions with a clipped, unclarified "Nope," and it was making her mad.
Obviously, she didn't have to express the uptick in agitation, and Gripps spoke up to address it. "We don't go after just anyone, Manda."
"Oh, yeah? What's the criteria, then?" she asked, her frustration making her sarcastic.
"We're looking for a buildup. Someone about to pop—anger, usually. Panic or anxiety, sometimes. When we feel that, we go, we stir it all up, we take it all away."
He didn't say anything else, and Amanda fell back to digest the information. It took her a while to see the extent of what he meant, but after a couple of weeks, it was as obvious to her as if she'd always known. The Three never framed it that way—delighting too much in their disreputability, she suspected—but she saw it over and over again, a person about to bubble over, to explode. Too many times, they'd jump a target, and from somewhere on their person, a gun would go flying. Without fail, rendered invisible by the chaos around them, Martin or Cross would snatch it up, disassemble it, and trash it in a nearby garbage can or dumpster before rejoining the fray.
Nobody ever mentions it, and Amanda takes her cue and stays quiet, but she can't help but wonder how many lives have been saved—however temporarily—by the Three drawing out that ugly energy. After about ten too many encounters like that, she starts thinking they're doing way more public good than harm.)
After that, they start getting so much food for her that it gets to be too much, partially because there's definitely some healthy one-upmanship going on between them regarding who can find her the best stuff, starting when Gripps leaves a chocolate orange wrapped in gold on her pillow one night. Cross immediately follows up with a little basket of fresh baguettes, then Vogel, with a distinct air of triumph, presents a pink box containing four (slightly squashed) chocolate cupcakes decked out in brightly colored frosting flowers.
Martin, somehow and hilariously, procures and hauls home an entire case of Moët & Chandon. (She shares it; Vogel is a fan.)
And that's just the start of it.
Amanda doesn't want to crush their enthusiasm (it makes them so happy), but when the stashed food starts to threaten the amount of sitting space in the van, she makes herself speak up. "Um, guys? Not that this isn't, like, the best thing ever, but this is a lot of food." There's some grinning and nudging between them, and she doesn't think they're getting what she's trying to say. "I'm serious, it's awesome, but if I try to eat it all, I'm going to get really fat."
They laugh at her—apparently, being a psychic vampire keeps you rangy, so the concept of watching one's figure is kind of foreign to them—but slowly, the quantity of the food they find for her dwindles to a reasonable amount. They still bring her special things constantly, though.
Amanda's fine with that.
Farah worries, because of course she does, so Amanda makes a point to call her about once a week to check in.
"Amanda," Farah says gently on one of these occasions—Amanda is on a payphone, her back turned to the scene of the boys wreaking havoc a few dozen yards away—"doesn't it get a little… you know… loud?"
Amanda laughs. Loud might just be the understatement of the century; between the snoring and the nightmares, the boys aren't even quiet when they sleep. "Farah," she says when she recovers, "I've spent way too long locked up, totally isolated, in my dead silent house. Too much more quiet and I'd probably go crazier than I already am."
After a short pause, Farah says, "I just can't imagine spending every waking moment with them. They're nerve-racking enough in small doses."
Amanda glances over her shoulder, and the movement catches Martin's eye—he flourishes his bat in her direction, grins ferociously, and then, definitely showing off a little, shatters the meter maid's back windshield in one powerful blow. Amanda laughs, delighted, and then says to Farah, "You're just gonna have to trust me. These guys are the best thing that have happened to me in years."
A/N - forgive me a little bit of schmaltz; I'm such a sucker for found family stuff, especially when it works out this well.
Thanks for the love! I'll update again soon.
