Mixie Moxie (COMPLETED)

Max

We left the Smother's building in a hurry, while I practically threw on new clothes on our way to the truck. It seemed like it was going on noon, but I didn't even know what day it was. Monty hurriedly started his F150 and put Einstein hospital in the GPS.

"Are they badly hurt? Was it my fault?" I couldn't help but ask, generally worried for the first time. The Rev of the engine just seemed to rev up my anxiety. I hate hearing that people I was affiliated with got hurt because of me. It reminds me too much of my parents. 

"Stop blaming yourself." Monty insisted, pulling out of the Smother's lot. He put a hand on my thigh, and pulled a blunt out of the glove compartment. It's what he does to relax. "They were sticking up for you." 

"They shouldn't have to." I interjected. "I'm a street fighter for crying out loud."

"You were a street fighter." 

"I'll always be a street fighter. I can't fight that shit, Monty. It's not like I can be like 'oh shit, new area, might as well just throw that shit to the side', Red Bull is a part of me Monty, it always will be." I could feel myself growing in anger and anxiety with every bump of the road that Monty hit. He understood that my past self wouldn't change, but he just wanted me to be safe. I want that too. 

Turning off the highway, Monty pulled his car almost to a complete stop on an unpopular street. He turned off all the nights in the car and with a brief click, He laid his seat down as far as he could.

"Get down." He insisted, whispering in panicked command. I looked around trying to search  for what he could possibly be hiding from.  "Triss's stalker crew was behind us on the highway, we need to lay  low and make sure they ain't see you." 

"Shit." I heard myself mumble.

Slowly, like the adrenaline built in a horror movie, I heard tire treads pull slowly to a halt just behind Mont's truck. I heard a hard slap of boots against the ground. Triss's stalker was having a loud and proud conversation with who I can only assume was his gang. 

"Fuck, yo,how the fuck did we lose them that fast?!" I heard someone scream in a broken, raspy voice. Faintly, quietly, I heard someone turn the safety of their gun off. 

"Max," a high, tired voice called, "Don't you think this is a little superfluous?" Someone stumbled out of the car, followed by a slap of three or more pairs of boots. I could feel Monty wheezing in the dark. 

"Max." Monty whispered. "Max is Triss's stalker." 

"Is he a fucking gang member or some shit?" I whispered back, trying not to reveal myself. Cautiously, he nodded. This shit just gets better and better for me.

"You're lucky I promised Mom I wouldn't shoot you." Max growled. 

"What are we even doing this for?" I heard someone else ask followed by a lingering silence.

"My Triss got beat up bad by this hoe, and I'm not letting that go unpunished."

"She's..." Someone started. "She's... not your Triss." A long, hard pause sat discomfort in my stomach. Nobody was talking, no one said anything. And then--

There was a bang. 

A body fell hard to the ground, and a click of boots walked about five steps before Max's voice echoed through the street.

"That is what happens when you cross Dragon's gang." He called. "The bitch isn't here, so burn the body and let's go." A crew of people assembled the body, threw it into the middle of the street. Car doors slammed shut and exited back toward the highway with a loud skid. We waited a solid three minutes before we even turned the car back on, let alone got out to survey the damage. 

"Holy shit." Monty gasped, placing his paw on his hand. 

Engulfed in flames, burning char along the street, was the boy Max had shot. Pain and yet calmness sat on the boy's charred and burning face. He looked no older than 16. It burned a hole in my stomach. 

"Max is ruthless." Monty winced. Silently, I nodded. Clearly, I had made an enemy that is more dangerous than I thought. The drama never ended for me, and now I see it never will. 

"Let's just get to the hospital. Not on the main highway." I took Monty's hand slowly, pulling him away from the burning body. He waddled silently crying behind me as we prepared to pull away.