"Gah! Come on!"
Chloe kicked out at the side of the truck, swearing as her foot connected with the front tyre. She picked up a wrench and bent over the bonnet. After a moment, she straightened up and sighed.
"Come on, truck, work with me here, for fuck's sake. Can't you see I'm trying to help you?"
She bent back over the bonnet for a few minutes, trying something with the wrench, but as she straightened up, holding her back, she managed to drop the wrench on her foot. This caused her to suddenly straighten her back, which in turn meant she hit her head on the bonnet above.
"Fuck! Fucking… work, you fucking fuck!" she screamed, kicking out at the truck again. "I'm trying, you know that? I'm fucking trying! So help me a little, okay?" She slumped down and sat on the floor, her back propped up against the truck, listening to the radio which she'd propped up on the truck's dashboard.
"…and I said to him, 'I'll never take my clothes off in public, even if it is considered art!'" laughed the presenter. "Okay folks, Stan Stanwick here with the Sunday Funday on STYR Arcadia Bay, and I'm joined in the studio by none other than Skip Matthews, lead singer of the up-and-coming hot-property PissHead." At the mention of the band, Chloe's ears pricked up and she started properly listening. "Good morning Skip, say hi to all of your fans out there."
"Um, hi, uh… fans," said a voice that Chloe recognised as the security guard from Blackwell. She smiled at his obvious awkwardness.
"Now Skip," continued the host, "I understand you have an alter ego, isn't that right?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess."
"By night you are the wild lead singer of PissHead, one of the Bay's hottest new bands, but by day, oh Skip, you work as the head of security at none other than our own flagship educational establishment, Blackwell Academy, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, it's… uh, true, uh, Stan."
"Keeping the kids safe by day, and then melting their faces by night, right? Am I right, or am I right, or am I right? Right? Right?"
Dammit. Groundhog Day. That's gotta be worth at least thirty points there.
"You're definitely right there," said Skip, beginning to warm up to the fact he was on radio. Chloe smiled again.
"So tell me, are you at all nervous about the kids learning your alter ego? Do many of them know about PissHead?"
Skip laughed. "Not really. The last week or so has been absolutely manic. In fact, I was talking to a friend of mine only recently, in fact I played her a demo…"
"… her? Do I sense a budding romance here, Skip?"
"No!" laughed Skip. "She's just a friend, but I played her the demo tape last week and she loved it!"
"That's great!" said the host. "Are you sure there's no romance…"
"… hey, I don't kiss and tell, just melt faces!" said Skip, laughing. "But, if you're out there listening, Chloe, thanks for your support and I'm sorry about, well, you know what."
Huh. I get a mention on the radio.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Yeah, maybe I haven't totally killed our friendship after all.
Don't underestimate the power of friendship, Chloe. Even after years, they can come back and surprise you. You never know.
Are you coming back around to Max again? She's gone…
… but not forgotten, Chloe. I've a funny feeling that you haven't heard the last of her.
"Sounds serious," chuckled the host. "Anyway, thanks to Skip Matthews for coming on the show this morning. We're gonna listen to PissHead's brand new track now, so if you haven't heard these guys yet, then crank up that volume to eleven, as my friends in Spinal Tap would say, because you are in for a ride. And, if anyone complains about the noise, you just tell 'em what my good friend Skip said, which is?"
"Uh, PissHead rules!"
"Nailed it!" cried the host. "And here they are! PissHead!" The music started playing and Chloe grinned, listening.
"Right," she muttered to herself, standing back up. She laid the book open on the bonnet and checked it against what she could see of the engine. "Ok, you piece of fuck," she continued. "Prepare to be fixed!" Motivated now, she checked the radiator cap, finding it full of… something. And something not particularly pleasant. She quickly moved away from it and found a fault in the battery post. The connection wasn't good, but the book explained how to fix it, and she was able to follow it and tighten the connection to a suitable level. She then moved on to the distributor cap, cleaning and replacing it, tightening the serpentine belt and blowing the crap out of the fuel filter. Finally, she took a look at the spark plug. It was quite obviously non-functional.
"Of course," she muttered. "Carbon deposits. Nothing's ever easy, is it?" She sighed, looking around for a possible replacement, then her eyes fell on William's car.
Wait a sec, William had the spark plugs replaced not long before the accident, right?
Well remembered, Chloe.
See, I'm not completely useless.
I never said you were. Honestly, you don't value yourself enough.
Oh?
It's true. Since William and Max left, for differing reasons, you've felt abandoned and worthless. It's been tough for me, watching you struggle to find your worth.
Tough for you? Really? For you? Tough?
Look, I know perfectly well how tough it's been for you, Chloe. I know you intimately. It's been tough for me because I feel a little like a bystander. I want to help you, but I can only watch and talk. I can't actually do anything.
Damn right. You can't do anything. So shut the f…
… there is something I can do. I can watch you go get those spark plugs.
Chloe walked over to her father's old car, controlling her breathing as she did so. Without thinking about it too much, she quickly removed the spark plugs and took them back to the old truck, replacing the non-functional ones.
"Come on," she muttered, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the key. When the truck sprang to life, she squealed in delight, fist-pumping the air as she revved the engine. She turned on the radio and drove a couple of laps around the junkyard. "Yes!" she shouted. "Take that up your ass, David!" Eventually she parked up and headed into the hideout, sitting down and attempting to get the grease off her hands. Once she'd finished, she pulled back a sheet covering a small mirror and gazed critically at her streak of blue hair, grinning.
"Hey, junkyard queen, where you at?" came Rachel's voice from outside, and Chloe smiled.
"I'm in here!" she called, and a few seconds later Rachel entered the hideout.
"Hi honey, I'm home," she said, smiling, but stopping as she saw Chloe's hair. "Holy shit, dude, your hair!" She stepped forward and swept her hand over Chloe's hair, causing a shiver to go down Chloe's spine. "It's so…"
"… badass?" said Chloe, and Rachel laughed.
"I was going to say hot, but yeah, badass works." She looked down at Chloe. "In fact, you look good today. Really good."
"Thanks. Made an effort," smirked Chloe.
"For lil' ol' me? Awww," drawled Rachel, earning a laugh from Chloe. "Anyway, I don't know if you know, but someone moved your truck?"
"Really?"
"Yeah. Don't understand, it's not where it…" Realisation hit Rachel like a slap in the face. "Holy shit, you moved it, didn't you?" Chloe just smiled. "Awesome! We has wheels?"
"We has wheels," repeated Chloe.
"Damn girl, you're practically a certified mechanic now," said Rachel. "Come on, I want to see." She pushed Chloe out of the hideout and they ran, laughing towards the truck. The joviality soon stopped as they saw Frank's RV at the junkyard entrance, and Frank walking towards them.
"Price," he growled.
"Frank," said Chloe.
"Who's that?"
"This is Rachel. Rachel, Frank. Frank, Rachel."
"I saw you at the show the other night," said Rachel.
"Funny. I was gonna say the exact same thing," he said. "Couldn't really miss you."
"Why, thank you," she said, smiling and curtseying.
"Didn't have you down as a culture-vulture," said Chloe.
"I was… my services were requested," said Frank. "Anyway, I thought I'd take a look, seeing as I was there."
"You're early," said Chloe. "I wasn't expecting you for another hour. What's the occasion?"
"It's his fucking bar mitzvah," said a familiar but unwelcome voice. To Chloe's consternation, Damon Merrick walked out of the RV to stand beside Frank. "Frank here is becoming a man. Aren't you, big guy?" he said, punching Frank's arm lightly.
"What's he doing here?" said Chloe, her face no longer smiling. Remembering what happened with Drew, the situation had just become a lot more serious and volatile.
"What do you think he's doing here, Chloe?" said Frank. "We're not dealing with a couple of dime bags now, yeah? This is serious. Where's the fucking money?"
"Seriously Frank," said Chloe, trying to sound as confident as she could, and sidling in front of Rachel. "If you think I'd pocket, or even think about pocketing a thousand bucks of your money, you're even dumber than you look." She threw her hands in the air. "The money wasn't there, okay? I looked, okay? I tossed his room but it wasn't there. I've no idea where it is. I was gonna tell you yesterday, but events overtook me, what with the play an' all."
"Who cares about the fuckin' play?" spat Damon. "I went to see Drew yesterday, he didn't have it. If he didn't have it, then in my book that means that you do have it. So if I were you, I'd hand it over right now."
"I would, if I'd been able to find it," said Chloe. "But I'm telling you the truth. It wasn't there, okay?"
"Damon, I don't think she has it," said Frank.
"Oh? It's so fuckin' cute how she acts like the two of you are friends," he said. "You heard about what happened to Drew, right? Right?" Chloe nodded. "Maybe worth keeping that in mind when you talk to me."
"Damon, I was talking to Frank, I asked him to come here this morning to talk about this. You know, to talk reasonably.."
"Bollocks!" said Damon. "You came here to give him some bullshit excuse about how you found it and spent it, or you gave it to some fucking worthwhile cause, right? Well, I'm not in business to save any fucking children, okay? Where's my fucking money?"
"I told you, I don't have it," said Chloe. As she said this, he took a step forward and grabbed her arm.
"I'll ask…" started Damon, but Rachel suddenly stepped out from behind Chloe and pushed him to the ground.
"Don't you fucking touch her," she snarled, and Damon got to his feet, eyebrows raised. "You don't get to touch her. Ever!" He started back towards her, but Frank stopped him.
"Damon, come on, there's no need for us to get all het up," he said, and Damon glowered at him but took a step back.
"Why is it," he said, "that chicks think it's okay to hit me, but if I lay a finger on them, suddenly it's a whole other thing?" He glared at Chloe and Rachel, but didn't do anything else, obviously taken aback by Rachel's action. Beside him, Frank was trying to mask a smile. "Anyway, Frank says you're asking about a client of his. That true?"
"What if it is? That's between me and Frank, okay? None of your business," said Chloe.
"Oh? What if I make it my business?" said Damon. He raised his arm, pointing at both Rachel and Chloe. "See, you two Nancy Drew wannabes here think it's a good idea to call your drug dealer and ask about his business. And his client list!" He snorted. "I didn't go to no fancy fucking academy like the two of you, but that doesn't mean I'm thick or nothing. And what you did doesn't strike me as the smartest thing to do." He pointed at Frank. "Maybe it's Frank's sunny disposition that confused you, but he's got a whole other side to him that I don't think you'd like, yeah?" He turned to look at Frank. "Should we let them see it?"
"Come on, Damon, we're just talking here," said Frank. He was looking slightly agitated. Damon sighed audibly.
"Okay. We're talking? So let's talk," he said. "I wanna know why you give a shit about this woman. Tell me."
"Never said it was a woman," said Chloe, trying to keep her rising fears under control. The situation could erupt at any moment.
"Like that, is it? You know I talk to Frank, right? So come on, 'fess up. Why?"
"She's a family friend," said Chloe, saying the first thing that came to her head. "We've been out of touch for a while, trying to get back in touch." Damon looked at her and laughed.
"Yeah, and Frank's my bitch," he said. "The chick's got no family. Or friends, come to that. Even I know that."
"Look, none of that matter, okay?" said Frank. "All we care about is that you stop asking questions. Chloe, I'll see you later, okay? We need to sort out the money." He turned to go, and Damon joined him.
"You got off lucky, kid," he said, thrusting out his arm to point at Chloe's face. "Remember what happened to Drew North, kid," he continued. "Boy or girl, makes no difference to me. Cross me, and you'll pay." He stepped into the RV, but Rachel stepped forward before Chloe could stop her.
"No!" she said, and Damon turned back.
"What?" he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Tell me where she is. Now!"
"Rachel," said Chloe, trying to hold her back, but Rachel was having none of it. She took another step forward.
"Wait a minute," said Damon, chuckling. He took a closer look. "No way," he said. "No fucking way!"
"Come on, Damon," said Frank, but before he could shepherd Damon into the RV Rachel spoke up again.
"What the fuck is…"
"Rachel? As in Rachel… Amber?" he said. "That makes so much sense. You know who this is, Frank? This is James Amber's kid."
"Damon…"
"Your dad's a real piece of shit, you know that?"
"We're aware," said Chloe, dryly. "Irrelevant."
"Maybe," said Damon. "But in case it isn't… here's what happens next." Swiftly, and in an obviously practised motion, he pulled out a knife and pointed it at Chloe and Rachel.
Oh shit.
"Damon, come on man. They're kids, for fuck's sake," said Frank, quickly, but he didn't attempt to get in between them.
"No, they're not," said Damon. He stepped down off the RV and once more stood in front of the girls. "This one," he continued, pointing the knife at Rachel, "is the fucking DA's daughter! And right now she's going to fill me in on what her daddy is up to and how's connected to that whore everyone's asking about. In fact, she's going to tell me everything about him. Including what he's got on me."
"What?"
"Damon, calm down," said Frank, stepping forward as well. "We're still talking, yeah? Everything's still cool. No need to get crazy!" As he said that, Damon looked across at him, and Rachel saw a window of opportunity. She picked up a plank of wood from the ground and swung it, connecting solidly with Damon's head. He dropped his knife and fell to the floor, tripping up Frank as he did so.
"Rachel!" cried Chloe, but Frank was already getting up, trying to warn Chloe, but Rachel was having none of it.
"You don't threaten me, you piece of shit!" she yelled, running forward at Damon and swinging the plank again. However, Damon had recovered quicker than she'd realised and he blocked the plank with his arm, picking up the knife with the other hand and stabbing Rachel in her arm. Rachel dropped the plank and stumbled backwards, looking at the wound on her arm. She screamed in pain.
"Rachel!" cried Chloe again.
"Damon, what the fuck?" said Frank. Damon lunged forward again at Rachel, but this time Frank held him back. "Chloe, take her! Go! Now!" he yelled, struggling with Damon. As he did so, Chloe grabbed Rachel and bundled her into the truck.
"Rachel?" she said, looking across at her friend. Rachel's face was pale, and she'd slumped over.
"Chloe?" she said, weakly. "I don't feel so good."
"Shit! Shit! Hold on, Rachel," she cried, starting the truck and gunning the motor. Blood was spilling out of Rachel's arm, staining the seat and her clothes. "Fucking no way I'm losing you!" cried Chloe, spinning the wheel and driving around the RV. She knocked over the junkyard sign as they escaped, then she really put her foot down and aimed for the hospital.