Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———

Tommy sat behind the wheel of his light blue ’64 Chevy, with Misty at his side and B.J. riding passenger, who sat with his legs slightly elevated to accommodate the cooler beneath his feet.

“Hey, pass me a bear, would you,” Tommy asked nonchalantly.

“I wish you wouldn’t drink and drive Tommy,” Misty protested.

“Relax babe,” he said as he cracked it open.  “It’s just a beer.”

B.J. snickered, but immediately stopped once she turned her disapproving glare upon him.

The sat in near silence, with the only sound being the sipping of beer from either side of her and it was a long while before anything more was said than “Get me another.”

Finally, it was B.J. who broke the silence.

“Are you sure they’re going to be here?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Misty replied.  “Nikki said she overheard a conversation between Lucy and HER friends at lunch, in which she was telling them about her big date tonight.  Apparently, she was gushing over him.”

“Pee-yuuke,” B.J. erupted, while Tommy made gagging noises from her other side.

“Well you wanted to know!”

For the next several seconds, their laughter filled the cab of the truck.  It was Tommy who first grew quiet, and as he did, a brooding expression came over his features.

“Aw, what’s the matter honey?  Why the long face?”

“I don’t get it.  Why are we going through all this trouble to hook them up?”

“Tommy…  We’ve been over this!  You know that if you get caught in another fight, you’re going to get kicked off the team!  And besides, it’s not like he’s going to be getting off that easy or anything.”

“What do you mean by that?  If I’m not giving him a hard time, than he’s getting off easy as far as I’m concerned.  If you don’t put the faggots in their place, than before long they are taking over.”

“Yeah, like in that movie about the nerds,” B.J. added.

“Except this isn’t a movie, dumbass,” she shot back.  “And Tommy, you know I don’t like you using that word.”

“Whatever…” he muttered.  “Just get to the point.”

“Well, the word is; Lucy’s a bit of a control freak.  Ever since her father was murdered that night of the James Street Massacre, she has been manipulating things to get her way.  She’s so afraid that if she isn’t in control that something else, bad, will happen to her family.”

“I don’t get it…” B.J. said.  “What does that have to do with Scott?”

“Goddammit, B.J., you’re such a tool sometimes!  Are you so blind that you can’t see how this will play out?”

The latter’s face turned red from the verbal assault, but he didn’t say a word.  He didn’t dare, with Tommy watching him like a hawk.  If the wrong word came out of his mouth, he knew that he was going to get a fat lip, or worse.

“I, I guess I don’t,” he admitted through clenched teeth.

“Well, you know how Scott’s a bit of a loner, right?”

She waited for them to acknowledge her question before continuing.

“He’s a fucking weirdo, is what he is,” B.J. laughed, but nobody took his cue, and she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Well, like I said, she’s all excited that he asked her out.  I mean REALLY excited.  And, if she’s half the control-freak that I think she is, she’s going to make him more miserable than either of you two ever could.”

“What,” Tommy asked incredulously.  “How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Well for one, she has something that only one person in this truck has, as well as the ability to withhold it from him!  I think,”

She paused when once again, they showed their maturity by emulating the act of vomiting.

“Are you boys about done?”

They had followed their vulgar pantomime with another fit of boyish laughter, and this time it would take something more than an angry look to settle them down.  She reached out and pinched both on their sides, eliciting a pained yelp from each.

“Alright!  Damn, that hurt,” Tommy yelled, while B.J. said some expletives of his own.

“Now, as I was about to say; I think that she will be able to cause him more pain than either of you ever could.”

“Damn, that’s just cold,” Tommy admitted reluctantly.  “I was just going to rough him up a bit, but she…”

“…will tear him apart.”  Misty finished with an evil grin.  “Look, there she is now.”

They watched as she got out of her car, a red ’90’s Nissan, and ambled toward the theater’s doors.

“Did we miss him already,” B.J. whispered.

“I don’t think so.  Look, she’s buying the tickets!  O.M.G.!  He can’t even pay his date’s way?!”

For the third time in minutes, the cab erupted in laughter.  And, when Scott finally appeared at the last minute, sprinting up the middle of the street, they would lean against each other in hilarity, cackling madly until tears fell from their eyes and their sides began to ache.