La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

25. Tancred de Hauteville

It wasn't until an hour later did we reach the rendezvous point. Bradley was nowhere to be found, but I guess he had other things to do first. There were a few other guys there, maybe about twenty to thirty of them. They sat around their trucks, bikes and cars, some of them smoking, others cleaning their guns. They were certainly well-armed.

Leslie got out of the car without a word, slamming the door shut behind him. I watched him as he walked up to those guys, all smiles on his face as he met up with them. I guess they were all old friends. Leslie sure had a penchant for bad company. They all seemed like regular gang members to me, but one of them, a big burly brute with a bald head caught my eye. I remembered seeing him with Leslie during the motel raid. He had a skull tattoo on his forearm, but that was all that interesting about him. I don't know. It's not like I've had a good impression of them ever since I was on the other end of their violence.

I felt nauseous watching Leslie being so friendly to them, joking around, punching each other's shoulders. He was my boyfriend, he was supposed to be supporting me. But what did I expect from him. I sighed as I leaned back into my seat.

It was then when I realised that Leslie had left his pistol in the centre storage compartment. He was still out there, talking with the other guys but he turned around and began walking back to the truck. I saw my chance, grabbed the pistol and shoved it in my jeans pocket. Looking back, it was kind of a dumb move on my part. I was lucky that the safety was on. I could've accidentally shot myself in the thigh.

As he opened the door I pulled my shirt down, trying to hide the gun. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to trust a gun with him, especially around these people. People who were obviously a bad influence.

"Hey," he said as he settled down in his seat.

I could only grunt in reply, adjusting myself so that he wouldn't be able to see the gun on my hip.

"Aren't you going to say hi?" Leslie had the nerve to say. "They're asking who's the kid in the car."

"Then let them keep asking," I replied coldly as I folded my arms.

"You can't keep sulking like this," he told me. "C'mon at least try to act natural."

I only kept quiet, looking down at my nails.

"You're still angry aren't you," Leslie muttered to himself. "Yeah, of course you are."

"It's great to know you're not blind," I shot back under my breath. "Congratulations."

Leslie only looked down, a bit ashamed of himself, before stepping out of the car again to join his friends like before. Talking and laughing again. I only rolled my eyes as I lay back into the seat.

I couldn't stand being here. I wanted to just take the pickup and drove back all the way to the convent, but I had to remind myself why I was there in the first place. I couldn't let Leslie out of my sight. I had to remind myself that I was there to reign him in, to make sure that he wasn't going to do anything wrong. That was the only thing keeping me under control. But that doesn't mean I was going to coddle up to these gangsters and kiss their feet.

It was then when I heard a knock on the window. I turned around, slightly irritated, thinking that it was Leslie. But it wasn't.

It was the young man with the hollow eyes. His brown hair swept to the side. Immediately I broke out into a sweet smile, rolling down the window.