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Chapter Four
The Van
Behind every good punk band, lies a beat up van. The Irregulars' van had entered life as a simple delivery truck, then been driven into a ditch, smashed into a light pole, had the paint stripped off and poorly reapplied, and had suffered through three transmission replacements. And that was all before we bought it.
We had salvaged the paint by redoing it in the traditional spray paint fashion, including our name plastered across the back. Nothing much could be done about the numerous dents in the body, or the four bullet holes in the side (a recent acquisition) but The Irregulars van bore these scars proudly. We called her 'the old battle ax'.
Now the van was parked in Lorelei's driveway, serving as visual aid for my crash course in car theft.
"You slide the coat hanger in like this, and once you feel it catch, yank it back up. You have to do it hard or else the hanger will just bend. You try." Holmes handed the wire coat hanger to me. I got it on the second try.
"Good. Now, unless you've managed to steal the keys, you need to hot wire the car. The wires should be here." I watched and memorized as Holmes worked mechanical magic on the van.
"There. I won't cross the wires today. You have to replace the wires once you're done, so it doesn't look like the car's been stolen." Holmes finished, crawling out from the space under the steering column.
I couldn't help myself. I started giggling. Holmes looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Where the hell did you learn to do all that?"
Holmes actually looked embarrassed. "Automotive Basics. The professor almost never came out of his office, so we just amused ourselves. I actually think I learned more in that class that way."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
That afternoon Holmes took me to the mall. Alex Holmes and Solei Watson wouldn't be going to meet with car thieves, Joshua and Katrina would be.
Joshua was a far cry from Holmes' tidy self. Holmes could make a T-shirt look semi-formal. Joshua was a street kid, with spiky dark hair and matching spiky collar. He slouched rather than walked and looked at the world with hardened, cynical eyes.
I decided that Katrina would be a fashionable thief. Katrina wore no less than three bracelets, a necklace and earrings. She wore makeup and clothes from the latest fashion magazines. She would walk with self-conscious grace, like a model on a runway. In short, Katrina bore little resemblance to Solei Watson.
Holmes almost never spoke about his past or family, unless he was asked a direct question. I never longed to ask about his past more than during that shopping spree, when he charged a hundred pounds worth of clothes and jewelry without even blinking.
But there was a more pressing task at hand. Only two days after we met John, Holmes received word that the 'Tigers' wanted to meet us. Tonight. At Tower Bridge of all places.
We had just finished band practice, when Holmes' cell rang. He walked off in search of better reception while the rest of us chatted about gigs past and future. Kevin and James were just headed out the door when Holmes came back.
"Watson. John called. You need to be ready by tonight." Holmes reached into his backpack. "You should do your hair." He said tossing me a small box of hair dye. I sighed. We had already argued over this.
My hair was a medium length sandy brown/blond. I liked it like that. I didn't want to change it. But, as Holmes had so annoyingly pointed out, Katrina wouldn't have an indeterminate hair color. She would be a blond. Holmes had already dyed his hair black. His hair was fairly dark already, but the unnatural shade of black helped enhance the illusion of defiant street kid.
I took me a whole hour to dress, do my hair and makeup and adjust my jewelry artfully enough to suit Katrina. I stared in the mirror at the new woman there. Oh sure, you could still see Watson if you were looking for her, but she was hard to find. I sighed and rubbed my aching arms. "How do people do this everyday?" I asked the mirror.
Joshua was sprawled across the couch when I emerged. His double-take at my outfit was reward enough for the hour spent wrestling with my hair. "You do look loverley, Katrina." Holmes' eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Thank you Joshua. I wish I could return the compliment." Joshua wore baggy khakis and a battered camouflage jacket, both of which had seen hard days since they'd last been washed. The equally battered backpack was all that remained of Holmes.
"Shall we?"
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.
Chapter Four
The Van
Behind every good punk band, lies a beat up van. The Irregulars' van had entered life as a simple delivery truck, then been driven into a ditch, smashed into a light pole, had the paint stripped off and poorly reapplied, and had suffered through three transmission replacements. And that was all before we bought it.
We had salvaged the paint by redoing it in the traditional spray paint fashion, including our name plastered across the back. Nothing much could be done about the numerous dents in the body, or the four bullet holes in the side (a recent acquisition) but The Irregulars van bore these scars proudly. We called her 'the old battle ax'.
Now the van was parked in Lorelei's driveway, serving as visual aid for my crash course in car theft.
"You slide the coat hanger in like this, and once you feel it catch, yank it back up. You have to do it hard or else the hanger will just bend. You try." Holmes handed the wire coat hanger to me. I got it on the second try.
"Good. Now, unless you've managed to steal the keys, you need to hot wire the car. The wires should be here." I watched and memorized as Holmes worked mechanical magic on the van.
"There. I won't cross the wires today. You have to replace the wires once you're done, so it doesn't look like the car's been stolen." Holmes finished, crawling out from the space under the steering column.
I couldn't help myself. I started giggling. Holmes looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Where the hell did you learn to do all that?"
Holmes actually looked embarrassed. "Automotive Basics. The professor almost never came out of his office, so we just amused ourselves. I actually think I learned more in that class that way."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
That afternoon Holmes took me to the mall. Alex Holmes and Solei Watson wouldn't be going to meet with car thieves, Joshua and Katrina would be.
Joshua was a far cry from Holmes' tidy self. Holmes could make a T-shirt look semi-formal. Joshua was a street kid, with spiky dark hair and matching spiky collar. He slouched rather than walked and looked at the world with hardened, cynical eyes.
I decided that Katrina would be a fashionable thief. Katrina wore no less than three bracelets, a necklace and earrings. She wore makeup and clothes from the latest fashion magazines. She would walk with self-conscious grace, like a model on a runway. In short, Katrina bore little resemblance to Solei Watson.
Holmes almost never spoke about his past or family, unless he was asked a direct question. I never longed to ask about his past more than during that shopping spree, when he charged a hundred pounds worth of clothes and jewelry without even blinking.
But there was a more pressing task at hand. Only two days after we met John, Holmes received word that the 'Tigers' wanted to meet us. Tonight. At Tower Bridge of all places.
We had just finished band practice, when Holmes' cell rang. He walked off in search of better reception while the rest of us chatted about gigs past and future. Kevin and James were just headed out the door when Holmes came back.
"Watson. John called. You need to be ready by tonight." Holmes reached into his backpack. "You should do your hair." He said tossing me a small box of hair dye. I sighed. We had already argued over this.
My hair was a medium length sandy brown/blond. I liked it like that. I didn't want to change it. But, as Holmes had so annoyingly pointed out, Katrina wouldn't have an indeterminate hair color. She would be a blond. Holmes had already dyed his hair black. His hair was fairly dark already, but the unnatural shade of black helped enhance the illusion of defiant street kid.
I took me a whole hour to dress, do my hair and makeup and adjust my jewelry artfully enough to suit Katrina. I stared in the mirror at the new woman there. Oh sure, you could still see Watson if you were looking for her, but she was hard to find. I sighed and rubbed my aching arms. "How do people do this everyday?" I asked the mirror.
Joshua was sprawled across the couch when I emerged. His double-take at my outfit was reward enough for the hour spent wrestling with my hair. "You do look loverley, Katrina." Holmes' eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Thank you Joshua. I wish I could return the compliment." Joshua wore baggy khakis and a battered camouflage jacket, both of which had seen hard days since they'd last been washed. The equally battered backpack was all that remained of Holmes.
"Shall we?"
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.