When the Paint goes Dry

Chapter Seven

“So what are you his bodyguard or something?” I asked collecting my bowl of rum and raisin ice-cream from the waitress. Michael did join us, after a bit of persuading, I mean who could say no to Ice-cream.

He laughed shaking his head, “Not exactly,”

“Then?” I asked looking at his vanilla ice-cream. Vanilla, really? Ice-cream told you a lot about someone. Especially the flavour they 

Take Archie for example, double chocolate with extra chocolate chip, it told me that he liked chocolate. Okay that was a bad example. He had a sweet tooth. That was still bad. It just told you, people who went for more out there flavours liked to try new things and adventure. And then you had the boring people stick to plain ice-cream, unless they had crazy toppings with it.

But Vanilla, something about it was just so formal, plain, perhaps boring if it wasn't ice-cream.

“Can I have extra chocolate sauce on this,” asked Archie as the waitress brought his. She nodded about to leave when I grabbed the bowl from her.

“No this is enough chocolate for him,” I said placing the bowl in front of him.

“I don’t want you to throw up everywhere from a sugar overload,”

Double chocolate with extra chocolate chip was bad enough, and double scoops, that was where I pulled the limit.

“So what are you doing this side of the town?” I asked taking a spoonful of ice-cream. The sweet taste melted against my tongue and I nearly sighed. I could live off ice-cream. But I think I loved my savory greasy food just as much.

Carlie’s was our favourite ice-cream joint, not only was everything they used in their ice-cream natural, they always gave us extra servings and Maximus, the man who ran it was amazingly nice.

But the way they made their rum and raisin won me over, real rum, so it was strong, a bit too strong but it was delicious.

“Business meeting,”

I raised an eyebrow, at this time of the day. Who on earth had business meetings now?

“What are you guys doing?”

Archie looked up from stuffing his face and I chucked a napkin at him.

“Treating ourselves,”

“Swimming?”

“How did you know?” I asked exchanging glances with Archie who was staring at the man with his head tilted. I rolled my eyes picking up the napkin and wiping his chin. He grabbed the napkin pushing my hand, muttering something like ‘I can do it myself,’

“You smell like chlorine and his hair is wet, did you go swimming?”

“It was competitions,” said Archie before I could tell him how in fact he was wrong. Oh god, his mood was going down hill.

“Well congratulations,”

The ice-cream felt extremely cold against my teeth as I tried swallowing if quickly to warn Michael.

“I lost,”

Too late.

Michael looked at me and I shrugged, he was in this pickle himself I wasn’t going to help him, partially because I didn’t know how to help him. Well I did try and ended up swallowing and not savouring my ice-cream.

“Well Congratulations,”

“But I lost,” said Archie taking another mouthful of ice-cream. Where was my camera? They way he was eating this ice-cream really should be videoed and played on his eighteenth.