Dave looked at him and rose an eyebrow. "I'd think Randy would want to do that. He's the one that got fucked up."
Hunter shrugged. "He said tell him when we find him, and then let him know. For now, though, he's got enough problems. Trish keeps swearing it's not over and he's gotta do what he has to do to be safe."
Dave rolled his eyes. "She got more phone calls?"
"A couple, but mostly, it's the dreams." Hunter pulled his dates closer against his body, then snickered. "She thinks she's psychic now. Madam Triska," he said in a very bad accent, "we must call her now."
Chyna looked around from the other side of Dave and gave both men the finger. She felt bad for the blonde dancer. She had already lost one boyfriend and nearly lost another. She thought Dave might have been a little more sensitive since he was less of an asshole than Hunter. He hadn't said anything too rude, yet, but if he hung around Hunter enough, he would.
"Both of you need to piss off." She pulled away from Dave and started walking backwards across the sidewalk. It wasn't too late at night, and there was still a line leading halfway down the block of people who hoped they could get inside before last call. She had the rest of the night off, courtesy of Dave, and she planned to spend it at home, not listening to Hunter talk shit in the street.
"What?" Hunter looked at her and shrugged. "The woman's fuckin' psycho with the paranoia shit. It's over. Nobody's heard a damn thing from this sick fuck in days. It's over."
"Yeah, well, Trish is still feeling it. I know it's hard for you, Hunter, but try to have some sympathy for somebody other than yourself." She rolled her eyes. "Dave, toss me the keys!"
He reached in his pocket, shaking his head, and tossed her the keys. He didn't say anything about Trish because he was on Hunter's side in that argument. He thought Trish was overreacting and that everything was alright. He planned to get laid that night, and he knew if he pissed off Chyna, that wasn't going to happen.
Hunter turned away from him and looked around the crowd. He spotted a small guy who worked the front door, mostly going down the line to find fake ID's. He hired him on a joke, seeing as how he looked to be under 21 himself. "Hey, kid!" He turned towards Hunter and ran over. "Shannon Moore, right?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod. He pushed long blonde hair behind his ear. "Need something Mr. Helmsley?"
"Wanna make a hundred bucks?"
"Sure!"
Hunter tossed him his keys. "Go over there and get my car." Shannon caught the keys and Hunter pulled out a hundred dollar bill. Shannon was already half across the street when he called out, "Get it to me in the next sixty seconds without peeling rubber and I'll throw in an extra hundred!" Shannon sped across the let faster.
Dave's Roadster was parked only a few lanes up from Hunter's car, and Chyna was over halfway there. She twirled the keys on her fingers, walking slowly to the car. She looked to the side and saw Shannon running towards Hunter's Escalade. By the time she reached the driver's side, Shannon was already behind the wheel. Chyna dropped the keys and bent over. Shannon started the car.
An explosion ripped through the night. Fire sored high up in the air. The blast was so loud, and Chyna was close enough that her ears were ringing. She stood up slowly and stared with blinking eyes at the wreckage. She heard muffled footsteps and non-descript voices and turned to see Dave running towards her. As she turned, she saw a piece of metal flying towards the car. It was a piece of Hunter's front hood and it embedded itself into the gas tank of the Roadster. The piece was still on fire.
Dave rushed her, tackling her to the ground with a spear so hard it sent them both flying a few feet away. Chyna still could barely hear and her body was shaking with the shock of being so close to the explosion. Dave's hands were rough on her as he picked her up around the waist and practically dragged her away from the wreckage. They were halfway across the street when another explosion rocked the street. Dave turned to see his Roadster go up into flames. Debris was coming down everywhere, and more than just his and Hunter's cars were gone.
"Son of a bitch!" He was on his knees, knocked to the ground by the explosion. He turned back to look at the people across the street. Everyone was screaming. Hunter fuming. Someone was on the phone, calling the cops he suspected. He remembered that kid, Shannon, and turned back to Hunter's car. There was no way in hell he had survived that. "Shit!"
Chyna pushed herself shakily to her feet. Slowly but surely, her hearing was returning. She reached down and took Dave's hand, pulling him up. "That kid..." She shook her head. "That kid's dead."
"I know."
"That was meant for Hunter."
"I know."
"Five'll get you ten there was one in your car, too."
"Had to be." He turned and, holding her wrist, stalked to the sidewalk where Hunter was swearing he was going to kill someone. "The tank was damn near empty."
"That explosion was too big for an empty tank."
"I know."
Chyna looked up to him and shook her head. She groaned, rolled her eyes, then said, "Care to tell me again how much this is all over?"
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