Chapter 3: Peanuts

"So me 'n Keith grab the firecracker on our way to the rollercoaster, cos we figgered that it'd be a cool sport, yanno? But the Keith's like 'Where's the safety gear?' and I'm all 'Eh? What safety gear?' so he punches me in the shoulder-and lemme tell you, Keith can sure pack a punch-then jumps off the coaster to get it. But Keith somehow breaks both 'is legs and gets this huuuuge chunk of iron stuck in 'is arm from the fall. Man, that was a sorry sight. Till he started crawlin' around usin' his good hand, I mean. Then it was fuckin' hilarious! But then he got cuts all over that one and it was just sad again."

I honestly don't know whether I hate the traffic more or the kid's stories. I let out a long-suffering sigh as I rested my head against the steering wheel, tuning both the kid and the honking out.

"…Hey, Nick. Nick!" The fucking asshole kicked me in the shin, causing me to shoot up with a yowl. Seriously, who goes around kicking people in the shin when they're driving? Scowling at him and rubbing my leg, I said snappishly, "What?"

"I never knew Ro worked at Whisperin' Oaks!" He said excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat. "Coach said that the Midnight Riders were playin' there tomorrow!"

Oh… So that's what those two were rattling about.

"Never heard of 'em," I answered, looking up to steer the car. "They any good?"

The kid looked scandalised. "'A course! Me an' Coach have all their albums, even their new ones! The newer ones are kinda crap, but they still got the best pyrotechnics ever!"

My scowl deepened. "And you kicked me to get me attention why?"

"'Cos you ignored me when I called ya and when I prodded ya." He answered matter-of-factly, his wide blue eyes trained on me.

My own green ones narrowed, and I let out a 'hmph' before returning my attention to the traffic. "Just don't do it again, or I'll bury you alive."

"'Kay," The brunet answered, completely unfazed.

God damn, this kid was like a clingy, chattery leech. Or an overeager puppy.

"Rochelle!" The kid cheered, launching himself at the lady guarding the stadium entrance.

I followed along at a more sedate pace, looking faintly annoyed as I held onto the little punk's cotton candy.

"Hey Ro," I greeted, inclining my head. "Shoot any other guys in the dick lately?"

She rolled her eyes with a grin. "Sweetie, you barged into my house at 5 in the morning. I'm a trained guard, and anyway, the bullet only hit your thigh."

There was a slight pause before her eyes landed on the pink confectionary in my hand and her grin widened. "Oh? Ellis, have you twisted Nick around your little finger already? Or are you not telling me something, Nick?"

"He was going to drop it on the floor," I grumbled, my metaphorical hackles rising slightly at the implication that the kid had me doing his work for him.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You're a neat freak," She said with a slight chuckle as she adjusted her grip on her kid to rest her hand on her handgun, eyeing a passing guy in a vest dangerously as he walked past.

Privately, I agreed with Rochelle's judgement - the biker looked like trouble.

"Cougar," The guy coughed loudly.

The dark-skinned girl's eyes flashed. She carefully let the kid go, turned to me to growl, "Watch the stadium." and shove her gun at me before haring after the man. I almost felt sorry for him as I watched her tackle the dark-haired man to the floor. No one should have to suffer the wrath of Rochelle when you assumed she was 'just a chick.'

I still had a scar on my thigh from that bullet wound.

"Thanks for that," Rochelle panted, having finally shown up after the kid had finished his candy floss and drained two cans of soda. She reclaimed her handgun from me, leaning against the counter to examine us.

"So what are you two doing here?" She asked, tilting her head. "I know Nick, at least, never visits unless he wants something from me."

I sniffed haughtily at that.

"Midnight Riders!" The kid announced excitedly, bouncing on his feet. "They're playing here tomorrow!"

"Yeah, I know…" She groused. "All of us guards are working our asses off to prepare for riots and shit like that."

Rochelle stared at my blank gaze and the brunet's beaming face before it dawned on her. "Sweetie… Do you want free tickets?"

"Nooo…" He dragged out. "I jus' want front seats! Two of 'em! I'll pay for 'em an' everythin'," The kid added anxiously. "Really, I won't do nothin' to screw things up."

Rochelle took a look at the kid's pleading face and her expression softened.

"Alright," She sighed. "But no messing about, you hear?"

…I wish I could win people over like that.