CHAPTER 11
When I next saw Jimmy, he was the same old Jimmy we knew and loved. When he first walked in, holding a bunch of McDonald's food, I was nervous that he would do something, and Whatsername was slightly paranoid as well. But Jimmy only held up the bags and grinned in the way that only a teenager with food can, and sat down next to us.
"Hey, children, how's it going?" He asked. Without waiting for a reply, he offered us food. "Hamburger, soda," He nuzzled up to me. "...fries?" He said seductively, waving the bag under my nose.
"Knowing my weaknesses will not make me love you any more, freak," I told him, snatching the proffered box of fries and scarfing down several in one bite.
Whatsername politely sipped a soda, still nervous. Jimmy was a damn good actor (which got him out of sticky situations a lot); no telling what was burning underneath his giddy exterior. "So why you'd bring food today?"
Jimmy gulped a deep swig of Dr. Pepper and disregarded her a moment, then coughed. "I'm just being nice and getting food for you."
"Ah," both Whatsername and I said in unison
"Do you want me to starve you?" Jimmy asked suddenly.
We stayed silent, eating our food.
"Let's go trash the grocery store: Jimmy stated, shocking us out of a 15-second silence. I almost dropped my fries.
"That was... sudden, Jim."
He nodded. "And you're the ones to talk, you two."
I colored slightly as Jimmy leapt up.
"C'mon, kids, let's go. What's the time?" He glanced at his watch and jumped. "Motherfucker, I was supposed to be there by now!" He stomped his foot. "Why? Why am I always late!" And with that, he raced out of the warehouse.
"Jimmy!'" I yelled, running after him. "Where are you going, work?"
"No, I'm going to—" He broke off into a fit of fake-sounding coughs and sped up. "Man, I'm fucking late!"
I was already stating to get out of breath. "Jim, going alone?"
"Yeah, see ya!" He called. He then stopped and tossed something to me, then was down the street in a heartbeat. I stopped entirely, and bent down with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I don't know how Jimmy can run and run and run when he's a heavier smoker than most people I know.
"What's going on with Jimmy?" Whatsername asked as she jogged up to me and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"He's – late – for – something -- don't know -- what." Every word was punctuated with a pant. Whatsername refrained from asking another question until I had regained my breath.
"What's that Jimmy tossed you?"
I remembered the little package Jimmy had thrown at me just now, and uncurled my finger. "Condoms," I snorted.