jailbait.

jim lahey is a drunk bastard.

i watched, partly fascinated and partly amused, as the alcohol rubbed away his reservation and replaced it with a nearly irrational confidence. "now come with me while i chew those shit-weasels out!" he ordered, tripping over himself as he lumbered to the car used for whatever ridiculous "trailer park supervisor" purposes existed. i scoffed, given he'd just told me to stay far away from them and now he wanted me to join him on his oppressive mission. i wasn't about to complain, though. he was doing half of my job for me. i supposed the shirtless, cheeseburger-eating assistant my mother often complained of wasn't around to accompany him for once.

adjusting my bag, which was slung over my shoulder, i followed him to the vehicle and cautiously climbed into the passenger's seat. i didn't even gripe about him drinking and driving, figuring this was typical lahey behavior. he managed to get lost several times. not enough to leave us wandering for hours, but enough for an amount of time to pass that likely indicated to those guys that they were in the clear. boy, were they in for a suprise.

what we arrived to was quite the scene. outside of what i was informed was "that sexy fucker julian's place," one of the men in the car earlier, blues music emitted from the radio of the vehicle in question. a small grill sat on its roof, and a sizeable amount of chicken fingers were being cooked. the good kind, eight bucks. they were unattended, however, because whoever was making them and another guy were attempting to wrestle eachother to the ground. on top of all this, a camera crew was hanging out by the frayed bushes. i wasn't particularly concerned about being filmed, never opposed to occupying the position of the center of attention.

"gimme my kitty!" the smaller of the two choked out. i giggled softly as i got out of lahey's ride and casually leaned against the window, my bag still resting over my shoulder. they were fighting over a cat?

"no!" the larger one barked. "i need it to protect my damn weed plants!"

so he grew dope. i made sure to take a mental note of that. now that i thought about it, i could sense the faint aroma of marijuana coming from around the same spot as the sizzling chicken fingers. as if on cue, i also heard a quiet meow.

while my father stood beside the car in a drunken stupor, unsure how to handle the situation, i stomped over and took hold of one arm on each of them. "hey!" i growled, alarming them enough to get them to roughly loosen their grips and seperate from eachother, still staring daggers. i knew that i was going to want dope, and if it meant defending a stranger, then so be it. i turned to the one with glasses that made his eyes look huge. "let him borrow it for a little while longer?" i proposed sweetly, tilting my head. he glanced at lahey, probably thinking that what i'd suggested was better than dealing with him.

"well alright," he grumbled, directing his attention back to me. "but he's gotta return it in a couple days! a dope den is no place for a kitty," he insisted, pointing to the captor of his beloved creature. it was cute, how fond of the animal he was. i nodded reassuringly. "he promises," i quickly stated, before my future source of grass could let out a smartass remark, as he looked poised to do. once the kitty's owner shuffled away, my father seemed to gain some courage. he sauntered next to us and took a big sniff of the air.

"you growin' dope in that car, ricky?" he demanded, putting his hands on his hips and swaying slightly. the name suited him. the answer to lahey's pretentious question was obvious, so i interrupted and quipped, "who isn't growing dope in this godforsaken place?" even though i'd only been there for a short while, i had a reasonable level of certainty that my assertion wouldn't go unfounded. ricky snickered.

my father glared at me. "what the hell's this all about?" he muttered. i had no idea why he expected me to be compliant and silent. it just went to show that he didn't know me, and certainly didn't own me. i shrugged. "let's just say that this dude isn't the 'loser' here, as you so eloquently labelled him."

this clearly got under his skin. "fine!" he irritatedly shouted. "you wanna get sweeped up into the whispering winds of shit, be my guest! but you'll regret it.." he paused, holding up a wavering finger in my direction. "..when those winds turn into a shit blizzard." he stormed off, flooring the gas pedal once he'd made it inside his car. the feat took him a hilariously determined effort. he was furious, so much so that he hadn't even threatened the men he was after, but i got what i wanted. i was alone with ricky, and he met my only two requirements for teasing and flirting - he was older than me and not terribly unpleasant to look at. i dug his facial hair, specifically the way his sideburns were shaped. i pondered for a moment over whether or not he put significant time into achieving it.

"drunk bastard," he mumbled as lahey sped out of sight. he gestured for me to come with him as he headed to the chicken fingers, which were in danger of burning. tentatively, he flipped them over with a spatula before staring at me. his eyes scanned my long, tan legs, which were covered only a bit by my torn denim shorts. then, he observed the perky breasts that were beneath my ac/dc t-shirt. "what's your name?" he inquired with a sly smile. he hadn't put two and two together and come to the conclusion that i was lahey's daughter yet, telling me that he wasn't the brightest.

"veronica," i replied smugly, propping up my elbow on the side of the vehicle i had been curiously looking at not too long ago. "veronica lahey," i added, raising a brow and almost shivering with anticipation of his reaction.

"oh." his eyebrows furrowed as he took a moment to process what i'd said, giving the food a perplexed expression. when it hit him, he appeared mortified. "oh, fuck!" he excaimed, intensely making it a point to not face me.

"disappointing, huh richard?" i taunted, enjoying every second of his anguish. "now you'd feel all fucked up about getting in my pants." i bit my lower lip, exhaling heatedly at the thought and studying him further. his sandy brown hair seemed to glow in the harsh sunlight, and the silver chain he was wearing glistened.

he shook his head and huffed. "i'm so stupid." the normalcy with which he nochalantly demeaned himself made me sorry for him, so i decided to show him mercy for now. "you're not stupid," i protested sincerely, mirroring him and looking down at the golden chicken fingers. "can i have some, when they're done?" i asked politely. he nodded curtly, but still didn't take his eyes off of the grill. "yeah." he gulped, finally putting his eyes on me and clambering for an excuse to make me leave momentarily, allowing him to collect himself.

he dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of dollar bills, stuffing it into my palm. "you mind goin' down to the store an' gettin' me some pepperoni?" he requested gruffly. i squeezed the money in my hand. "..pepperoni," i repeated incredulously. who just eats straight pepperoni?

"uh-huh," he confirmed, apparently puzzled as to why i was so suprised about his choice of a snack. as who i could only assume was julian emerged, walking across the lawn, he continued. "they'll still be warm when you get back."

"who's this?" i jumped at the sensation of julian's warm breath traveling along my neck, not realizing that he'd settled for standing directly behind me. "s'lahey's daughter." ricky gestured to me with his spatula. i spun around to face him before waving at him lightly. "hey," i greeted, giving him a good once-over. he was muscular and less pale than ricky. i also noticed that he wore a single earring and was clutching what appeared to be a rum and coke, if i had to guess. he simply nodded.

"i was actually just leaving for a minute.." i explained, smirking and standing up straight instead of leaning on the car. "..to fetch his precious pepperoni," i finished, pointing back at ricky with my thumb, who didn't say a word and kept tending to the food. "i'll go with you," he declared immediately. "lots of perverts 'round here." i chuckled and shoved him in mock indignation. "how do i know you're not one of 'em?"

a half smile grew on his face as he played along. "you don't," he remarked before slowly proceeding forward and commanding me to follow him. with ricky's permission, i plopped my bag inside of the car and did as i was told.