Just Another Dressed Up Heartbreak

Robby slammed the car door, startling several pigeons into wild flight, the sound of their beating wings drilling into his skull. The trip back into his old territory had proven less than profitable, not that he'd expected anything else. Word had spread fast of his sins, and nobody wanted to be associated with a wanted fugitive. Already aware of this, he had deliberately targeted those lower on the ladder than him, intimidating them into cutting him into some low-brow larceny, the type he wouldn't ordinarily touch. But it would put fuel in the tank and food in his mouth for the time being, even as he knew his erstwhile associates would bail as soon as his back was turned long enough. Not that mattered; Shit Creek was just a pit-stop on his road to nowhere anyways.

The only bright spot on an otherwise bleak horizon was that he'd heard Trey and Manny had been banged up in jail, meaning he didn't have to worry about them wreaking revenge on his sorry ass after what had went down on the beach. They had been big fish in a little pond, and it would only be a matter of time before others took their place. In another life he might have been tempted to throw his hat in the ring in order to be top-dog, but now it was just another door shutting on his face. All he was concerned with was staying one step ahead of those who sought him, and trying to catch his breath when he could.

As he stood there, a flash of movement caught his attention, making his head jerk up. Beneath the tree, Taylor was applying pillar-box red lipstick, the twist of her wrist awkward, as if she wasn't used to doing it. She had changed from her grubby white dress into a shimmering sequined halterneck and a leather mini-skirt that both seemed suspiciously brand-new, her bright hair piled up high on her head in a messy updo. To Robby, she looked disturbingly wrong, like a child masquerading in her mother's clothes.

Feeling the weight of his stare, Taylor glanced up, brow furrowing. Robby hurriedly looked away, not wanting for her to get the wrong end of the stick. Despite the dirt, she was a beautiful girl, a wildflower amongst the weeds. Cleaned up, and in the right clothes, she would be a certified knock-out. Any fool could see that and would try and take advantage of it. He knew for sure Trey and Manny would have been all over her in a heartbeat. Hell, he probably would have been too, back in the day. It would have been the big blue eyes that would have hooked him first, Robby's weakness, exactly where Sam had suckered him. But that had been before Sam, before he'd tried to become a better person. All that effort had been for nothing though, leading him to here.

The sun was now low in the sky, turning the air mercifully cooler. Bored, Robby sat with his feet propped upon the dash, hands knotted behind his head. The radio was playing softly, some ancient J-Lo track his mom used to get ready to back in the day, before the booze and prescription drugs took her over. The memory didn't hurt, oddly enough. For a moment, he let himself become lost in the past, only to remember the look on Miguel's face as he fell from the balcony. Whatever Robby did, the image was always there, superimposed over everything. It had been an accident, but it didn't matter. Now Miguel could be dead for all he knew, and he was too frightened to go find out.

A fancy Camaro unexpectedly drew up outside the grass verge, further along from where Robby had parked the Dodge. Tensing up, Robby lowered his hands to his sides, expecting trouble. But the glimmer of rainbow-hued sequins made him slump back in his seat, seeing that it was only Taylor and some slick looking guy in his late twenties, maybe early thirties at most. Brow furrowing, Robby watched as Taylor then got out and bent over to kiss the man through the rolled down window, her lips creasing in a crooked smile. Again, he felt that same sense of being disturbed by the sight of her playing at being a grown-up.

He watched as Taylor then skipped up the verge to her tent, fluttering her fingers as she went, the girl looking giddily happy. The Camaro then took off at speed, the screech of its tires making Delilah stick her head out of her hut, cursing and shaking her fist after him. Robby sat up, stomach twisting at what he'd just witnessed. At first glance, the guy was exactly the kind of douchebag he used to target when he first started out scamming. That type kept all their goods in the shop window, flashing the latest tech and designer watches. Once he'd forced a guy to give up his brand new Off-White 'OOO' sneakers, which Trey had fenced for a good price. But Mr. Camaro was different. This went beyond being a bastard with too much money. He was messing about with a minor, exploiting her obvious vulnerability, not caring about the consequences.

The thought made Robby's fists involuntarily clench before he caught himself. It was none of his concern. He had his own problems to deal with, never mind some stranger's. If the girl had gotten herself into trouble, then she could goddamn get herself out of it. Hooking up with some sleazy asshole was on her, not him. They were just ships passing in the night and he would be out of here sooner rather than later. He just couldn't afford to become entangled with anyone. There could be no deadweight, nothing that would slow him down if he had to suddenly bail. He was on his own now, and so was she. And he wasn't a good person anyways, not anymore.

Take a look at the future

Who knows what's ahead?

A sharp rat-tat-tat on the side window made Robby jolt awake, hands instantly raised in fists in front of him, his green eyes wild. But it wasn't the cops as he was expecting, only Taylor with a triumphant smirk, holding aloft a Happy Meal. Shaking his head to himself, he slumped back in his seat, glancing down at his watch. It was now going on nine thirty, the sun having long since set, Robby realizing too late he must have dozed off. For a long moment, his mind was mercifully blank, and then the past possessed him again. Miguel. The look in Sam's eyes. Taylor's crooked smile as she kissed that sleazeball through the rolled down window. He glanced up at her involuntarily, only to see that same crooked smile was now slipping, becoming replaced by a rueful expression.

Exhaling sharply, he straightened up, running a hand over his shorn hair at the same time in a feeble attempt to tidy it. Then he finally dared to reach over and crack open the car door a fraction. "Yeah, what is it?" he said, unable to keep the ire from his voice. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Taylor retorted, ramming the Happy Meal in his face. "I'm not trying to get into your pants, Prince Valiant. So don't shoot the messenger."

Robby side-eyed her before snatching the Happy Meal from her fingers, his stomach rumbling on cue. "Thanks?" he hazarded, still suspicious.

"Don't worry, I didn't spit in it," Taylor said sweetly, "I only sprinkled a little nightshade through the fries."

"Ha-ha, you're so funny."

"I am," Taylor said smartly, "and you were asleep when the Catholics came round handing out Happy Meals, so I got you one. Don't get too excited though, they took the toys out."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Taylor shrugged, climbing into the front seat, forcing Robby to sit back on reflex. "Maybe the toy was in danger of tempting a few souls to the dark side."

Robby stared at her, realizing too late what she'd done, catching him offguard. "Hold up, did I say you could come in here?" he demanded as she clicked the door shut. "This isn't open house."

"No, it's a car, doofus."

Robby just stared at her again, before shaking his head to himself again. She was obviously still on a high after her outing with Mr. Camaro. "Whatever," he then said, arranging the food and fizzy drink on the dashboard like it was a table. "Just don't try anything."

"Or what?" Taylor scoffed. "You'll do some kung-fu on me?"

Robby glanced at her sharply, heart suddenly in his throat. Was she baiting him? But her blue eyes remained ruefully mocking. Nothing seemed to imply she was inferring to what he was running from.

"Are you into Bruce Lee or something then?" she rattled on, helping herself to some fries, unaware of how on edge he suddenly was. "When I woke you up, you went all Fist of Fury on me."

Robby studied her, finally seeing she was in earnest and without agenda. "Sorry," he said abruptly, still on the defensive despite himself. "But you did bang on the window while I was out of it. Anyone would freak, especially out here. Everybody looks like they'd slit your throat on the slightest provocation."

"Hey, don't be so up yourself," Taylor snapped. "We're not all bad eggs."

"No, some of you are just naive idiots, right?"

"And what's that supposed to mean exactly?"

Robby gestured at her garish outfit, forgetting all his good intentions not to get involved. "C'mon," he scoffed. "I seen you with your fancy man earlier - is he into young girls in general or are you just the exception to the rule?"

Taylor stared at him, her pale face flooding with hot color, clashing horribly with her bright hair. "He really respects me actually," she said, making to leave "unlike some assholes I could mention." She then flung Robby a furious glare before flouncing out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind her.