Chapitre 3: Chapter 2: Gettin’ Pulled Over
"Clara, I'm going to drop the boy's off before I head to work, is Else staying, or am I taking her home too?" I asked as I walked past Billy and Ricky, my hand pushing open the flimsy aluminum door of the trailer. The little chickenshits hadn't left the porch since they saw the snake, and no amount of coaxing or calling them every name in the book would get them to step back into the yard.
"She's staying the night, but could you pick her up some clothes from her house when you get back?" Clara yelled from her bedroom, the paper-thin walls of the place came in handy in this instant as it sounded like there wasn't even a wall between us. Reaching through the partially opened door my fingers fumbled for my vest hanging on the coat rack. With a swift tug I dragged the ugly red abomination with me as I threw it over my shoulders like a cape.
"'Kay tell her I'll let Mrs. Smith pick out her clothes so she doesn't get worried!" With those parting words, I looked back at the two idiots. They were waiting for me to go first, Ricky's boot digging into the floorboard as he dragged it across the treated wood. A sheepish grin spread across his stubble-covered face as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Could you pull the car up closer…?" His words went completely ignored as I walked past both of them. Billy caught on almost immediately as he hustled behind, and only when I vaulted over the porch steps and to the stone pavers below did the skinny blond react. "H-hey wait up!"
"Ricky, I expect this behavior out of Billy—"
"Hey!" Came the redhead's offended reply.
"But for you to act like this must mean something's up so spit it out." I looked back at the man jogging right behind me, his head darting back to the treeline every now and then. His pale skin grew even paler the more he looked back, my own eyes drifting to see what in the hell he was seeing.
"I-I'm tripping balls man!" We both looked back at the little shit now, our eyes seeing how the man's normally crystal blue eyes were bloodshot. A growl left my lips as I grabbed hold of the bastard's flannel shirt, my arms began shaking him back and forth as he groaned for mercy.
"You had weed and didn't tell us!?" Before my fist could rear back and land on his jaw Billy grabbed hold of me. I turned to glare at him but he shook his head, the man's grip on my shoulder was unbreakable.
"While I don't have the same reason for being upset as Ethan has about you hiding the weed from us could you please tell us next time before you get behind the wheel while high?" My eyes widened, this bastard put my baby sister in danger. By that point I was seeing red, the last moment I remember was me being tackled to the ground, Billy screaming in my ear.
***
The car ride was quiet, the cool night air whistling through the cracked windows and the low hum of the radio playing were the only sounds. Billy sat behind the wheel, his large hands wrapping around the steering wheel at the ten and two positions. The click-click sound of the turn signal came on as we slowed down at a four-way stop. My eyes peered out as the soft orange glow of my headlights illuminated the dark world in front of us. Other than the night sky this was the only light anywhere within a mile of us.
"Sorry, I nailed you in the jaw Ricky," I mumbled from my place in the front passenger seat. A cigarette was lit between my fingers as I exhaled a long trail of smoke that was immediately sucked out of the window. The aching throb of my eye dulled as the nicotine did its job, if only it'd help with the swelling too.
"Sorry…I…fucked up…your eye." Ricky was strung out across the entire back seat area, the left side of his body dangling over the red velvet cushions as he lay flat on his stomach. The man looked like a dead animal, and with the way he groaned at each bump in the road, I bet he wishes he was. His stringy blond hair dangled over his face like a curtain as he leaned over the side of the seats. The sound of retching filled the air along with the splattering sound of vomit hitting the bucket we'd placed in front of him.
"Well that's all great and dandy that you two are back to being all chummy and shit, but we've got bigger fucking issues!" Just as Billy finished speaking the cherries and berries of a police car began flashing in the rearview mirror. My heart nearly lurched out of my throat as I immediately snuffed out my cig with my fingers, the stinging burn would be much more tolerable than a night in jail and a call to Clara.
"Fuck…Ricky get in the floorboard!" My whisper was more on the verge of a yell. Reaching behind my seat I fumbled inside the black mesh pocket on the back, my hand grabbing the old wool blanket it held. Ricky had lowered himself to the floor on his elbows, the puke bucket was now jammed in the crook of his neck and around his arm. The sound of his dry heaving filled the air as the smell wafted in his nose. Gripping the edges of the old scratchy blanket I tossed it across his body like a tarp, the man groaning at the sudden darkness washing over him.
"Is there anything in the glovebox that'll get us in trouble, Ethan?" Billy whispered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. The man's already pale knuckles turned bone white as the wheel groaned under the pressure he exerted. Beads of sweat on his forehead gleamed from the soft green glow of the radio's digital display.
"Oh fuck I forgot Dad's gun's in there!" I scrambled for the latch on the glovebox, the thing falling open with a rattle as the hinges had worn out ages ago. A dingy yellow light illuminated the glove compartment in all of its messy glory. Papers, receipts, bills, and shit I didn't even think I owned were piled in a chaotic smattering that'd make even the slobbiest of people blush.
My eyes landed on the handle of the revolver, a snub nose .38 special Dad had given me 'just in case'. Its black plastic grip felt cool against my shaky hands, the cold polished steel sliding against my back as I shoved it in the gap between my belt and jeans. I was so nervous I wanted to puke, the sweat dripping down my forehead stung my eyes.
"W-why do you have that!?" Billy's voice raised an octave, his emerald eyes growing wide as saucers. Before he could wig out even more than he already had a tapping sound came from the driver's side window. A blinding beam of light hit us almost immediately as the cop jammed his flashlight against the glass.
"Roll your window down!" The muffled yell of the cop speaking through glass caused Billy to freeze, his eyes looking at me with tears brimming in the corners. For a straight-laced kid like him getting pulled over by a cop with an illegal substance (Ricky) and an illegal firearm (me) in the car was the equivalent of waking up in Hell.
"Be cool Billy, be cool." I tried to soothe the big guy, my hand shaking his shoulder trying to break him from his stupor. With shaky hands Billy grabbed hold of the manual window crank, his arm was stiff as a board as he rolled down the glass with painfully slow movements.
The first thing we saw of the officer was his bald head, the polished surface reflecting the red and blue gleam of his patrol car's lights. A pair of grey bushy eyebrows sat on an even more pronounced brow, the ridge gave the man's deep-set eyes an almost goggle-like effect. His black eyes glared at us like smoldering coals, the man's 70s action cop mustache twitching as his nose sniffed the inside of the car.
"You been smokin' boy?" I winced at his grating words, my face looking anywhere but the blinding light pointed at us. Damnit why the fuck did it have to be Officer Maggot?
"N-no, sir," Billy spoke, the warble in his voice wasn't very convincing but after the man glared at the boy for a few seconds he simply nodded. His eyes settled on me, a look of recognition dawning on his face before a wicked grin grew on in its place.
"Well looky here, you're Dave's boy aren't you?" My father may or may not be serving a prison sentence for growing a shit ton of weed on our property, and to add to that he also got in a standoff with the police. To say the Langston family was known to the police would be an understatement. We were a family of criminals in the making in their eyes, the number of times they'd responded to calls at our house made us rather infamous with them.
"Yeah, I am Sir." My voice was hard, my throat aching to produce the edge it had to it. I flicked my eyes over to the tub of lard, the man couldn't be bothered to actually keep fit as a cop instead of stuffing his face full of food.
Munford was a sleepy town, and the criminal activity here was even sleepier. Other than my Dad the last major crime that happened here had been a murder in the 70s. That's why with all but two police officers and a shoestring budget the Munford Police Department didn't give their officers anything fancy like bulletproof vests or body cameras. The only thing I'd have to look out for if shit hits the fan is the dash cam in the patrol car.
"Is this your vehicle?" Maggot asked, his greasy double chin jiggling as he put one of his hands on the roof of the car. He didn't even have his hand near his gun, my own had been ready to draw the moment I saw his bald head.
"Yes sir." The click of the hammer of the revolver reverberated through my ears, my eyes quickly glancing to make sure the smug bastard didn't hear it. If he asks to search the car or asks me to step out to search me I'm going to kill him. I can't risk going to jail and leaving Clara all alone, that thought alone would drive me to do anything to prevent it.
"Can I see your license and registration?" Billy looked at me with terror in his eyes, he could tell I was up to something. My left hand not busy holding the pistol I planned to kill the cop with opened the glove compartment. The worn piece of paper I pulled from under the pile of others looked like it had seen better days, the man scoffing as he snatched it from Billy's hands after I handed it to the redhead.
"ID?" After seeing that the car was in fact in my name the man threw the paper back at Billy, a look of disappointment growing on his round face.
"Shouldn't Billy be the one to provide the ID, he was the one driving after all." I didn't have a driver's license, I had an expired learner's permit. After that stupid bitch at the DMV failed me for not using a 'proper turnlane' which happened to be an unmarked shoulder in the road I never bothered to retake it. I'd be in deep fucking shit if he found that out so I needed Billy to take one for the team, a look of understanding crossing the big man's face as he reached for his wallet.
"No, your car your ID." His tone was stern, the redhead's hand froze just as it entered his pocket. I gritted my teeth, was I really going to get fucked here?
"Ugh—!" A loud groan came from the backseat. Ricky was unable to hold it in as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bucket. Officer Maggot immediately turned to look, the flashlight beam shining across the blanket as the skinny man wriggled in pain underneath.
"What's wrong with him?" The walrus asked, his whiskers twitching as his nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of vomit wafting out of the window. Me and Billy looked at each other, a nod of agreement passing between us as we read each other's minds.
"He's really sick so we were taking him to Huck's to get some medicine." Billy spoke, a sad look overtaking his face. The man deserved an Oscar for his performance and I decided to give him an assist.
"Sorry Officer Maguire, but could you please overlook this so we can get our friend some help?" A frown grew on Officer Maggot's face, his power trip was being threatened by the potential fallout of him detaining a sick teenager. His fat hand reached toward his belt as he grabbed a notepad and pen, his fingers blurring as he scribbled across the page.
"Your taillight's out, fix it before next week or the fine will double." Billy grabbed the ticket between his large fingers, the fat bastard of a cop was already heading back to his patrol car. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I slumped back into the cushiony embrace of the passenger seat. My hand lowered the hammer of the revolver as I pulled it out from behind me. Billy slumped over, his eyes gazing blankly at the ticket crumpled in his hand.
"H-how bad?" I panted, my hand swapping the revolver for the pack of cigs I kept in case of emergency in the glove compartment. The shitty cheap lighter I kept with me was already in between my fingers as my thumb struck the striker wheel igniting a glowing flame. Placing the cigarette between my lips I lit the tip up before taking a long drag, a massive cloud of smoke billowing from my nostrils as I exhaled.
"$200 dollars."
"Fuck."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone