Author's Note: This should have all been said chapter one. I'm sorry that it wasn't and the fault for that lies completely with me. This story may contain some elements that might be uncomfortable for readers. For the most part, they will be the same that the games themselves contained: character death, abuse, physical assault and implications of sexual assault, drug and alcohol use and abuse, mental illness and suicide. It is entirely possible that throughout the story there are going to be sections that are very dark. There could be others that are quite the opposite. I just feel that it is best to warn you all very openly.
Chapter Three: Duel with Menelaus"So," Max said, speaking a bit more briskly than she had thus far, "let me sum it up." The trio were on the move again, toward a nearby bus stop. "Your mother's gotten together with some guy who has a complex about being worshipped for his military service, who is not so subtly a sexist and you think she's just okay with that?" Chloe nodded, even though she was looking at the back of Max's head. When Max perceived no answer, she looked back.
"Yeah?" Chloe replied. "It's kind of gotten to the point where I don't know what to say to her anymore. I love my mom, of course but she's actually just, I don't know, chosen that asshole over me. I just fucked up one too many times, I guess." You're not getting upset, Chloe told herself as she felt the ghost of a lump rising in her throat. "I don't get what she sees in him."
"Chloe, you're being a dumbass." Chloe actually staggered for a moment and, seeing that, Max stopped, looking past her toward Rachel. "Rachel, does Chloe seem like a dumbass to you?"
"Of course not," Rachel replied, her tone guarded as she shifted her shoulders beneath the jacket Chloe couldn't help but think was probably too warm for the day.
"Right, so she has no reason to act like one." This time Max had no problem matching anyone's eyes and when Chloe looked in them her throat closed up. In a way, they were like Rachel's, confident, assertive, almost an opposite from the way Max had been acting so far. The biggest difference is that Max looked deadly serious. "Your mother sees something in him. The good things. You don't see any of the good things. You only see the bad. Chloe, there are some platitudes that are bullshit. You can tell anyone babbling about everything happening for a reason or the world working in mysterious ways to shove it up their ass." And she has such a pirate's mouth, too. Chloe tried not to smile at her internal dialogue even though amusement rose up to challenge the discomfort in her stomach.
"One that isn't bullshit is that love is blind. The opposite is true, too. Hate is blind. You see the bad. It sounds like Joyce sees the good and neither of you can see what the other sees because you're both being dumbasses." Chloe watched Max sigh and as she exhaled the fire seemed to leave her eyes as she kind of folded into herself a bit, leaning forward. "Go talk to your mom again. This time, don't tell her what an asshole David is. Tell her what to look for. Show her how to see it." For a moment the three stood in silence, before Max turned and lead the way again. Chloe filed away Max's apparent good memory of the town's public transport system (such as it was) for later contemplation.
So, Max is going to come swinging back into my life and just tell me what to do to fix everything in the blink of an eye? How pretentious is that? A small part of her wanted to rebel immediately. Then again... . Chloe's gaze swung to Rachel's thoughtful face. Haven't I been doing the same shit? Rachel and I have been hanging out two days. Now I'm telling her I'll find her mother no matter what? We- we talked about running away together, for fuck's sake. And face it, this is Max. One last question, the inkling of a possibility formed in the back of her mind and she spent several quiet seconds observing Max before dismissing it.
"I'll think about it," Chloe told her. "But right now, Rachel and I have bigger fish to fry."
"And I need to find somewhere other than the Two Whales Diner to get some breakfast," Max replied, as if in agreement with something, though Chloe wasn't able to pin down what. "So, you've got a mysterious meeting in a junkyard?" Chloe again nodded at Max's back. Beside her, a long-suffering groan issued and Chloe glanced sideways to see Rachel rolling her eyes.
"Yeah," Rachel answered for her. "Chloe's helping me find someone. She thinks she's got a lead." When she says it like that, Chloe thought, grinning. Max beat her to the joke, as if with words stolen directly from her mind.
"Detective Price on the case," Max replied, sagely. "Don't worry, No one's a match for Arcadia Bay's legendary detective. She is vengeance, she is the night."
"I am batman!" The whole bit was worth it to hear Rachel laugh for the first time all morning. It was enough to call back the night before, before the disastrous family dinner, before the shattering of Rachel's kitchen table or her image of her family. We danced and laughed in ash, from a fire that she- that we started. Chloe shook her head and tried to keep the smile on her face for Rachel's sake. I can't unpack that right now. My own shit comes second. Regardless of what the weird ass dreams keep telling me.
"You know," Rachel started, "If you're still here after all of this is over, the three of us should hang out." Chloe glanced sideways. "I mean properly. Not just walking around a park trying not to get caught smoking a doobie."
"Yeah," Max said, again glancing back. Up ahead was the sign and a small box just big enough for them to sit in, a roof just small enough to cover them if it were raining. "About that. Sorry. I was kind of getting toward the end of my rope and none of my usual, uh, coping mechanisms were working." Oh, so we're getting to this, now. "I know it's crazy, considering I lived in Seattle but I really get a little nervous hanging out anywhere where there are a bunch of cars. The longer I spend away from the road, the better. And it sort of feeds the rest of it: all the other shit that messes with me gets worse if I'm around them. Also, I think my mother would say that 'interpersonal conflict' is also sort of what sets me off."
"Hey," Rachel spoke over Chloe as she opened her mouth to ask for more information. "It's alright, I wasn't really trying to give you shit. Trust me, I understand. Almost everyone has that one thing that scares the hell out of them. Some of us just have phobias that are a little worse." That was an inclusive 'us.' What the hell scares Rachel Amber? "As for the rest, I don't think anyone here has any reason to lecture on interpersonal skills."
"What's your phobia?" Chloe asked without thinking. She backpedaled a bit as soon as she realized that it might be a rather personal subject to bring up in front of someone Rachel had just meant. "That is, if you want to say."
"Maybe some other time," Rachel replied, her voice growing quieter, even if she did try to make it sound as if she was teasing with the information.
"Thanks for understanding," Max added, as if to cut off the uncomfortable line of questioning. Fine by me, Chloe thought.
"So, do you think you'll be able to get in on scholarship?" Rachel again took charge of the conversation. "I've heard it can be a pain in the ass."
"It can," Chloe and Max agreed in unison.
"Thing is," Max said, "That's the one part of my plan that I'm absolutely sure about." When Max glanced back, that same serious determination shone in her face. "I'll get that scholarship, so make sure to do whatever you can to make it back to Blackwell Academy, Chloe." Chloe wasn't entirely sure how to answer her, after everything else they had discussed. This was also when Chloe first realized Max hadn't really said anything about her time in Seattle except to hint that maybe something had happened causing her to develop a phobia of being near streets.
"Well," Rachel said, "I guess it's time for us to go our separate ways."
"Well," Max added, "I'll probably catch the same bus as you guys and ride it to the station. But I did want to say something to you." Chloe felt a little strange watching the two interact so openly given Max's apparent earlier fear of Rachel. "Thanks for sticking up for Chloe," Rachel looked taken aback. "I know she doesn't think people should stick up for her much, but everyone needs that sometimes and Chloe's always been the kind of person who needs reminded that other people do give a shit." What am I supposed to say to that?
"I'll keep that in mind, Max." Perhaps it was hearing Max talk about how she thought Chloe needed taken care of sometimes. Perhaps it was even the contemplation of just how right or not the girl was. Whatever the cause, Chloe realized as they stood waiting for a bus that she had no idea how Max was taking care of herself. I mean, unless she's paying with cash and raising eyebrows there's no way she's got a room somewhere.
"Max? Where are you sleeping at night?" Since they met up just outside of the old Caulfield residence, Chloe had seen Max nervous, scared, even a little upset. Chloe hadn't seen her embarrassed, though that all changed when Max began to turn red and returned to not matching anyone's eyes. "Where are you sleeping?"
"Well, I got a motel room the night before last but…" Chloe waited. Max didn't seem willing to continue, so she eventually bumped her shoulder against the other girl's, lightly. "I sort of slept outside somewhere last night." Chloe sighed. "Look, I get it, it's not safe. But I can't exactly whip out the card my parents gave me for emergencies. They'll see where I am and come right on down to get me and I'm not ready to go home yet."
"Fine, but I don't like it." Max didn't miss a beat, this time.
"I don't like you sleeping in a junkyard," Max responded, "but you haven't promised to talk to Joyce yet, so…"
Touche.
Chloe wasn't sure how much longer the two of them had before Frank was supposed to show up when she sat down the old, filthy shoe box of scavenged and salvaged tools. Glancing at Rachel, Chloe held a hand up. Two filthy hands connected in a loud high five before she glanced down at the box. I'll be keeping this. See, David? I didn't need your Overcompensator to fix this thing. I just needed Rachel and a pile of junk to dig through. She would have loved to have had her father's tools, but swinging by the house just hadn't seemed doable with the morning's available time.
"Rachel?" the girl raised an eyebrow at her. "Your chariot awaits." Chloe let the hood shut carefully. Rachel reached up momentarily and pressed a hand to Chloe's cheek, giving her a rather amused look. Chloe did not even stop to think about the streak of filth Rachel likely left on her face but she did do her best to return Rachel's gaze with confidence instead of the slight embarrassment she felt.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Rachel continued. "Badass." The two split away from the front of the truck and made their way to either side of the cab. Chloe first slid that little box of scavenged tools onto the seat and then eased herself in, more than a little aware of the fact that most of it was torn open beneath the old, ratty pirate flag. "Alright, MacGirlver. Show me what you've got." Chloe nodded once to Rachel before sliding the end of the screwdriver into the ignition. The mechanical beast roared and shuddered beneath her hands and a great puff of exhaust was more of an announcement that it was going to work than even shuddering of the frame as the engine started.
Once it was running, she glanced at the gas gauge and nodded to herself, resisting the urge to brag until such time as the vehicle actually ran. She shifted the vehicle into drive, grinning. The truck reacted to the gas pedal perhaps a little more eagerly than she expected, as if it was relieved to run again. Chloe had to steady herself as the truck jerked forward and then she was in full control, putting it as through its paces as could be done in a junkyard. After a few seconds and at least one unnecessary donut Chloe eased off the gas and, laughing, turned to Rachel to finally allow herself just the slightest bit of gloating. For a moment, Rachel was looking like she, too, was enjoying herself. Then, her face grew suddenly serious and Chloe followed her gaze. Frank's RV was pulling up to the entrance of the junkyard. Still in gear, Chloe eased the truck toward the entrance too, parking mere feet from the RV.
"Okay?" she asked Rachel, as she matched eyes with Frank through the windshield of the RV. He looked upset. "Rachel, are you okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, finally, pulling Chloe's eyes back to her. "Let's do this." They climbed from the truck. The sound of the RV door opening, followed by whistling drew Chloe's eyes. Frank was shaking his head as he approached the truck.
"Price, nice wheels." Frank was trying to be dismissive and casual but there was an edge to the tone of his voice. Maybe because of Rachel? Chloe thought. I brought somebody new to him, that probably means he has to put on his macho face. Frank gave the truck a quick glance over before coming to a stop against the nose of his own vehicle. "Well?"
"Hey, Frank." Chloe glanced sideways to Rachel, who was doing her best to look calm. It was evident then, more than any time before, that she was not calm at all. "Glad you came .Welcome to my humble abode." The door to the RV clicked against the wall of the vehicle and a long leg stepped out. Chloe froze in place, as she had been about to approach Frank. Rachel grew rigid beside her.
"Hate to tell you kid," she had only heard Damon's voice once before but it had been something of an unforgettable situation. It was reasonable that she recognized him by his voice even before he shut the door to the RV behind himself. "But your house is kind of a dump." The man's appearance, unforeseen and unexpected took away even her will to mock the joke. Rachel seemed more and more off put as Damon approached them and it was all Chloe could do to try to keep her cool. Okay, fuck this. Pull it together.
"Frank," Chloe asked, trying to lock eyes with him. Suddenly, he's doing a fairly nice Max impression. "What's he doing here?"
"Hey," Damon interrupted, his tone no longer anything remotely resembling jovial. "I thought we were cool after you helped me out with the whole Drew North thing. You want to be cool right? Don't you?" The way he approached, the threat in his tone and that inherent in his words got her hackles up, especially with Rachel standing silent and uncomfortable beside her. She picked a hell of a time to lose her tongue.
"Hey, we're cool. As long as I can talk to Frank without you interrupting." What she thought was a fairly neutral response was met with narrowing eyes and a sneer. Behind Damon, Frank shook his head.
"I told you, she's like this."
"Shit," Damon replied, "Frank was right about you." The man reached out quite suddenly, seizing her by the wrist. "You've got this whole tough girl vibe. I dig it. How'd you like to work for us, full time?" Beside her Rachel suddenly came to life, which was fine since the moment the man who beat the shit out of Drew North and then broke Mikey's arm grabbed hold of her, Chloe's mind locked up. Hating herself for the fear, Chloe couldn't do much as Rachel pushed Damon off of her and to the ground. She stumbled forward, and Frank reached past Damon to steady her.
"Don't you fucking touch her," Rachel warned Damon. Having been dropped to his knees, the older of the two men looked up, and then with a frustrated grunt rose back to his feet. Shouldn't that be my line? Chloe couldn't help but wonder. For a moment Damon and Frank shared a look. Chloe tried to tell herself that Frank's sudden worry, sudden discomfort was exaggerated. If she could just find her tongue again, everything was going to be alright. This got turned on its head, fast.
"Why the hell is it you chicks think it's alright to hit me, but if I lay a damn finger on any of you, it's a whole other story?" No response came. No one moved. One second turned into two, then three and the man seemed to let his question become rhetorical. He gestured back toward the uncharacteristically silent Frank, who seemed to be becoming more and more upset. Dumbass, if I can see it, you know he damn sure can. Then again, if Frank was upset, actually this upset, shouldn't she be worried? "Frank here says you're asking about a client of his. Why?" Down to business.
"Yeah, why does it matter?" Chloe knew that she had to tread a fine line, given the man's temper, but somehow becoming soft and demure in front of Damon Merrick seemed like the worst thing she could do.
"Why does it matter?" The man began to yell. "It matters because you two geniuses are sticking your noses into my business. Now, for some reason, you thought Frank here was a big softy. You haven't got a fucking clue. That doesn't matter, though, because now you're dealing with me."
"Hey, hey," Frank said, as Rachel took a step back. Chloe lost track of her out of the corner of her eye but did not dare turn to look. "We're all just talking here, guys. Let's calm down."
"Right," Damon said, lowering the tone of his voice. "We're talking, so let's talk. I wanna know right now why you give a shit about this woman."
"Why do you care so much?" Chloe asked, not sure she could or should give the man any ground.
"Because fuck you that's why," Damon replied. Before Chloe had time to process the response, Frank was talking again.
"Look, none of this matters. All that matter is that you stop asking questions. Got it?" Apparently getting Damon to lower his voice was enough to calm Frank down slightly. He was still on edge, of course, but no longer looked like he needed a drink. Without waiting for a response, the pair turned to walk away. It was a completely unsuccessful conversation and it was enough to make Frank seem a lot less trustworthy in the long run but at least the whole thing was over. Chloe turned to apologize to Rachel, only to see her step toward them.
"You tell me where she is, right now."
"Rachel, stop."
"Wait," Damon stopped in his tracks and turned. Frank slowed and eventually stopped. For a moment, Chloe had a moment of self-delusion, believing Damon was going to finally give them the information they wanted just to end this conversation once and for all. Then he started to stalk back to them, his eyes narrowed and focused not on Chloe but Rachel. "Oh, no fuckin' way." When Damon Merrick laughed, it made Chloe shiver. Frank followed until the four were yet again only a foot or two apart. "Rachel fucking Amber, the district attorney's brat. Your dad's a piece of fuckin' work and now you make so much more sense to me." That was when his hand started to move. Chloe had time to take a couple steps back, pulling Rachel with her before the man freed a long knife from his jeans.
"Hey, hey," Frank said, following Damon forward. "Hold on, man, they're just punk kids."
"No, no, no Frank. This one is the D.A.'s daughter. What's going to happen now," Damon's voice promised all kinds of horrible could 'happen now' despite Frank's attempt to calm him down without touching him. Oh shit. "Now she's going to fill me in on what daddy's doing and how he's connected to that mouthy little whore everyone keeps asking questions about." Chloe matched eyes with Frank as she moved to stand between Rachel and Damon. Frank reached out and grabbed her, pulling her aside.
"Hey," Chloe protested.
"Price, stop," he whispered, insistently. "Just fuckin' think." Then, Frank looked past her to Damon. "Look, man, she's a kid, she doesn't know shit." Instead of listening, Damon took a step forward, knife out, pointed insistently, almost warningly. That was all that it took for the situation to go from shitshow to nuclear meltdown. At first, Chloe thought that Rachel was going to slap him. Instead, when Damon staggered and dropped to his knees for a second time, Rachel pulled back her hand and in it she clasped a large chunk of cement, as if from an old cinder block. "Oh, fuck," Frank exclaimed, echoing Chloe's thoughts perfectly. Frank stepped back and pulled Chloe with him, so that they were behind Damon.
"You stupid fucking bitch," Damon yelled, reaching up once to test that he was not bleeding from the side of his head, eyes momentarily crossing from the resulting pain. Chloe didn't have time to wonder when this all got so out of control, when they moved on from 'just talking.' Once more frozen in place, she could see the exact moment Damon recovered his senses. His pupils were large, eyes wide, face flushing in rage, in embarrassment presumably at having been knocked down by a teenage girl. As Rachel tried to regain her composure, he scrambled forward on all fours, fingers digging into the dirt as he got into reach of the knife. In that second she could see Damon plunge the weapon into Rachel's stomach or leg or maybe even her throat, she could see herself being forced to either die beside Rachel or run.
Instead, Rachel took two sudden steps forward even as his fingers closed around the knife. She raised the stone in her hand and he the knife. Chloe opened her mouth to call out, but quite unexpectedly, as she jerked herself free of Frank's slackened grasp, Chloe watched a hand close around Rachel's shoulder and pull her once, harshly backward. Rachel collapsed into the dirt as Damon lunged upward, his knife missing her by mere inches. Behind and slightly to the slide, Chloe had only a second to see Max herself sneering down at a shocked Damon before the girl brought a familiar looking baseball bat down once.
The sound of the bat slamming into the man's skull was absolutely disgusting in retrospect, but that did not seem to matter to Rachel, who turned onto her side to see who had pulled her down. It did not matter to Frank, who was calling out for someone (Max or Damon? she wondered) to stop. It sure didn't seem matter to Max who watched Damon go slack and dropped to the ground with a smile that looked like it belonged on Damon's face, not on her own. A half second of silence followed the sound of the dealer's collapse before Max called out, in victory.
"Batter up, dumbass." Instead of dropping the bat, when Frank stepped around Chloe, Max raised it higher.
"Calm the fuck down," Frank called, looking as if he had only just realized he was outnumbered. Rachel was already climbing to her feet when Max stepped away from her and toward Frank, planting her feet on either side of Damon's unconscious (I hope) form. "Look, I get it, it's over. It's fucking over, kid." Max did not drop her impromptu weapon. The sweatshirt hung half off of her, likely to restrict her ability to swing it but she looked in that moment as Damon had a second or two ago, capable of anything. "I need to get him out of here and make sure he's alright. Unless you want to crack me over the skull with that thing too."
"Oh, don't get me fucking wrong. If you ever lay another hand on Chloe, or for that matter, her," Max gestured vaguely toward Rachel who was backing a step or two away from her, "then you'll get to be the one who tells all your hella scary friends how you got beat up by a little girl with a stick. You understand?"
"You're a crazy fucker," Frank replied, but it seemed to be agreement enough for Max to step aside and lower the end of the bat toward the dirt. Rachel looked as if she wanted to cross to Chloe and the truck but did not.
"Good," Max replied in a voice that did not remind Chloe at all of her childhood friend. "As long as you never forget that then you and I are gonna get along well." Frank seemed to slow, regarding her just briefly with the same look that Chloe could feel on her own face before he grabbed Damon and slowly eased him up. The larger man groaned but his eyes did not open and Chloe let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding when it became clear Damon was alive. "Rachel," Max said, and then she pointed the bat at Chloe. As if it was a magic word, Rachel and Frank passed each other, going in opposite directions. Max turned to watch Frank, not Rachel, who crossed to Chloe and reached up immediately to take her by the shoulders.
Looking past the girl who was trying to speak to her, Chloe watched Max actually pull the door to the RV open for Frank. The pair shared some sort of look, some sort of whisper and then the door slammed shut behind Frank, earning an audible "Fuck you!" from inside the RV. The bat clattered to the ground and its wielder's face eased. Max turned her back to the vehicle and began to approach.
"Wait," Rachel called, suddenly, toward the vehicle. Bolting across the short distance, she began to bang on the door. "Wait, you need to tell me about her. Where is she? I need to find her." The engine started, drawing Chloe's eyes to the windshield where Frank was hurriedly shifting into gear. Rachel ignored her when she called for the girl to step back, but no further injury to anyone was dealt as the RV began to back up, toward the road. It was only then that Chloe began to realize that she was shaking, that her stomach was turning and that they had come very close to someone other than Damon getting hurt.
For a moment, Rachel stood in silence beside the RV's tire tracks, then she turned, reached for the discarded baseball bat and stormed off, past Chloe, past the truck and deeper into the junkyard.
"Wait, Rachel?" Chloe started to turn, before a hand closed around her wrist. She shot back around only to see Max, calmly shaking her head. As Rachel vanished around a corner, something that sounded like glass shattered. "What the fuck? What the fuck was that?"
"Chloe, breathe." Max no longer had the whole 'angel of death' thing going on, but she was also not showing signs of the meek, anxious persona she sometimes took on. Then again, Chloe thought, actually following the girl's advice. She's shaking like a leaf. It was true. As much as Chloe's arms and legs felt unstable and she worried that taking even a step was a poor idea, Max was literally shivering, even to the point where the hand that released Chloe's wrist almost tremored. Chloe decided not to say something about it.
"I just, I saw what was going on and I had to do something. He saw her coming, he didn't see me coming." That's not- that doesn't answer anything. Max turned her head and looked in either direction before pressing her back against the old truck. Chloe's phone vibrated in her pocket, and she ignored it. Something metallic-and thankfully in the opposite direction as her father's old car-took a brutal beating from the bat in Rachel's hands as Max slid slowly to the ground, the thespian's rage a soundtrack to the scene. For one brief second, Chloe thought Max was going to pass out as she wrapped her arms tight around herself, closed her eyes and leaned forward, head resting on her knees.
"Hey," Chloe said, kneeling. "I kinda need you to stay with me. Don't go fainting on me now." Max shook her head without lifting it, but it was message enough for Chloe to calm down. Conflicting urges to go after Rachel or comfort Max rose up and instead of helping her make a decision either way it just reinforced that today was a weird fucking day. Around the same time that frustrated screaming in the distance gave way to silence, Max's shaking calmed as well and Chloe found hers had, too. While likely mere seconds, they might have all sat like that for hours, for how it felt.
Eventually, the sound of footsteps drew Max's gaze back up and Chloe's as well. Rachel was approaching from the back of the truck and though her jacket was dragging on the ground behind her, she looked far more calm, calmer even than Chloe felt. Shit, what do I even say? I'm sorry my idea sucked? I'm sorry I almost got you killed? I'm sorry I wasn't the one who stepped up and did something? I don't fucking know. She didn't look livid anymore, at least.
"You know," Rachel said, "If you do make it to Blackwell, you should look into the theater classes. You've got improv downpat." It took Chloe a second to realize she was talking to Max, but the girl on the ground sat up more fully and started to laugh. As she answered, Max retrieved her bag and opened it briefly. She pulled out and examined first a camera and then her laptop, as if checking each for damage. Once satisfied, she put it back.
"Yeah, well," Max said, "I had a couple friends who taught me everything I know." When she was done laughing (that's the adrenaline, Chloe reminded herself as she fought the urge to join her) Max stood up. "And I'll think about it. I think Chloe would do better in those, but that's a whole other story. I- uh, I'm sorry you didn't get what you wanted out of them." Chloe shook her head, but again this wasn't directed at her, so she stepped back.
"Yeah, well," Rachel echoed the girl as she threw the coat over her left shoulder. "How did you know we needed a superhero, anyway?" Chloe had tried to broach the subject before but Max had not been in any shape to talk. At least now that everyone was somewhat calmer and Chloe's heartbeat did not sound louder than the people talking around her, it was time to get down to the bottom of that question, though.
"The thing is," Max said, sounding somewhere between amused and embarrassed quite suddenly. "I felt shitty about the idea of you sleeping in a junkyard, so I sort of caught the next bus out this way and intended to spend a bit of time trying to convince you that, you know, you should talk to Joyce." That makes sense, Chloe did not try to hide rolling her eyes at Max. "So, I get here and there's these guys acting like they're hot shit. I kind of listened in a little bit then went to find something solid." Is she actually apologizing for eavesdropping after that? "I just meant to try to scare them a bit, or maybe bust out a window on that 'free candy' machine of theirs but when I got back shit sort of hit the fan." Chloe nodded, thinking privately that that was a fair assessment. Also, at least someone appreciates my art. Even if Chip doesn't.
"So, taking stock of the situation," Rachel said, "You're covered in dirt, had to piss off the big bad drug dealer in town, didn't get to eat breakfast, have a meeting with Wells in half an hour, we didn't find out a damn thing about my mother and no one managed to vandalize Frank's RV?"
"In my defense," Chloe said, "I did that last one back at the mill."
"Point," Rachel replied, nodding curtly. As if punctuating the moment, Max's stomach growled loudly. Chloe couldn't help but laugh. "So the morning was an entire wash?"
"Not quite," Chloe replied as both of the others seemed to straighten themselves up, knocking dirt and dust from their jeans. "We do have a sweet-ass ride that can get you to Blackwell and you to your father's office on time if we go in that order and no cops pull us over." Chloe patted the side of the truck. "It's not what you'd call strictly legal to drive it, but neither is knocking Damon out and making Frank wish he wore his brown pants." Max's smile at that was a lot more natural than the look she wore standing over Damon's prone form. Chloe tried not to think about that. "But I do think there's enough gas to get you guys into town and get back."
"You know," Max said, shouldering her bag. "I'm sure if you call the guy who owns the place, he'll sell it cheap." Max turned an appraising eye on the vehicle. "Rachel?" Max told her. "You jump in first, I think I get shotgun."
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