Blow My House Down

Chapter 11

"We should do something." Micky declared as we strolled along the sidewalk, passing several local businesses and a kaleidoscope of people. The middle of the day certainly showed the busyness of the streets, especially on a Saturday. There were mothers checking shopping lists and trying to keep track of their children; college kids looking for a cheap, authentic place to eat; an assortment of random people reading today's newspaper at the bus stop. I liked the crowds and the chaos: it reminded me of home. Since our town was so small, whenever everyone got together, it always seemed like a huge crowd. I liked the fact that at least some essence of home was following me around and keeping me company.

I turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Okay. I vote we got back to my motel room and catch up on our sleep."

"Ooooh, together?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes. One mother overheard his banter as we walked by and frowned at us, covering her son's ears.

"No!" I yelled, exasperated. I stopped for a moment and looked at Micky. My irritated exclamation attracted a few stares from passersby; some college kids slowed down and stared at us, eager for drama or a confrontation. Their enthusiasm was not lacking one bit: one boy happened to pull out a small notepad and pen, most likely a journalism major, in anticipation of a fight he could put in his college newspaper. "I'll sleep and you'll fix the bathroom door!"

Mixed looks of confusion surfaced on the college kids' faces; the boy with the notepad lowered his pen. He couldn't quite tell the story of two random "college kids" without knowing the back story, now could he?

"I think we should go to the ocean." Micky decided, completely ignoring my statement and continuing on. I stared in disbelief and chased after him, the group of college kids following us. If Micky noticed, he didn't let on; granted, if he didn't notice, he would soon as they weren't being very stealthy or subtle.

"I don't think the ocean would appreciate uninvited guests, no matter how terribly lonely it may seem. It wouldn't be polite. What if the coral reefs aren't prepared for our comfort?" I replied sweetly, and he rolled his eyes.

"You're so difficult." he muttered, and we heard gasps behind us. I knew, I just knew, that the journalist boy was furiously copying down our conversation. Micky shot me a secret glance; suddenly, I understood: let's give them a show, something to talk about later.

"Now that just isn't true!" I protested, grabbing his arm and stopping him with a glare. A smirk briefly made its way to his face, and by the way they were staring, we knew we had them completely enraptured by our little show.

"Isn't it?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"No." I said stubbornly, releasing his arm. "I just have a terrible temper is all."

He snorted. "Right, I'm sure that would explain why you almost attacked our boss."

"He broke my fucking guitar, Micky!" I snapped, glancing over at the group of five watching us intently. "You can't expect me to just forgive and forget!"

"Well, it would be a hell of a lot easier on all of us if you would treat him with some respect." Micky retorted. "You're going to get all of us in trouble one day!"

"Our boss is, as Audrey Hepburn would most likely say, absolutely horrendous!" I exclaimed, an astonished look dawning on my face. "Are you siding with him? Are you telling me he was in the right, breaking my guitar?"

"How did this go from broken bathroom doors to oceans to shitty bosses?" the journalist boy asked one of his friends, who merely shrugged.

Micky and I both cut the act at the same time and turned to face them, looking them directly in the eye. The five of them stood frozen, deer in the headlights. "How about you learn to mind your own business and fucking scram, Pretty Boy, before I sue your school newspaper for infringing our rights." I snapped, and the boy went ghostly white, dropping his notepad and bolting the other direction, his friends doing the same and yelling after him. Thankfully, none of them were law students, otherwise I would have gotten an ear full of how inaccurate and fanatical my accusations were.