Chapter Three
The engine grumbled once more and then fell silent.
“You go to a clothing store?” I asked doubtfully.
“Get in and buy yourself some decent clothes,” he ordered.
I scoffed. “Why?”
“I refuse to be seen with a bum,” he explained with an exasperated sigh.
“You really need to stop calling me homeless,” I muttered and crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly.
He groaned and managed to get off the bike before coming across and lifting me up and away from the leather seat. He then placed me by the sidewalk and pointed at the store. “Just. Go,” he growled threateningly.
“I don’t have money you idiot,” to justify what I said, I inverted my pockets and only a single piece of lint fell out.
His eye twitched angrily as he reached into his front pocket and handed me a small bundle. Who the hell carried bills in bundles?
I grabbed the wad and skipped into the shop. I did have a debit card inside my school bag but I needed to ensure that he wouldn’t just leave me here and a cash investment was the perfect means of doing so.
The shop was one of those annoying ones that were filled with plenty of one-of-a-kind clothes that were in ‘fashion’. I much preferred sports-wear stores because of their endless collection of basketball shorts and track pants. What was wrong with my outfit anyways? He was just being a sexist cow.
But I wouldn’t argue with him. If the only way he would let me hang out with him was via a mini-skirt and crop-top then I would acquire exactly that.
Being in the store gave me the creeps... There weren’t that many customers present so most of the employees had their questioning eyes set on me. I bet that they were all probably wondering why someone dressed as I could even so much as think about entering their high-end and expensive boutique.
Well, fuck you too.
I made a beeline for the cashier’s desk and cleared my throat when the lady didn’t look up from her computer. “I need an outfit,” I stated uneasily.
She looked at me as though I were the gum that had just been scraped off the bottom of her shoes. Maybe Phoenix was right and I did look like a hobo. “Well, ma’am. This is a clothing store,” she clarified, unimpressed by my dumb statement.
The general atmosphere of the shop along with her impolite reply angered me. I just wanted a stupid outfit so that I could get out of their stupid store and get on with my life but the dumb-as-hell woman behind the counter was acting high and mighty. I resisted the urge to climb over the desk and give her a piece of my mind. “Can you just get one of your staff members to help me?” I spoke through gritted teeth.
I have not got time for this.
The lady sensed my anger but did nothing to speed up her effort to get me assistance. First, she typed something into the computer and then she answered a call. I moved to say something but she held up her index finger and looked at me in an intimidating manner as she spoke to someone on the other end. I could feel myself developing an ulcer.
Finally, she yelled out some guys name and motioned for him to join us at the desk. “Take this,” she paused to think. “Girl... and help her pick something out.”
The vein on my forehead was frighteningly close to bursting. How could a business treat their clientele like this? Actually, what I was really wondering was why Phoenix would bring me to such an expensive shop in the first place.
If it weren’t for the fact that the man that had been assigned to me was actually quite nice then I am sure I would have had to use evasive manoeuvres to bring this store to an end. Perhaps I could burn it down and go into juvenile detention for arson? It was tempting.
“So, what do you like?” The man asked politely.
I wasn’t good at this. I began to panic. “Something age appropriate?” I answered unsurely.
He led me to a line of skirts and dresses. I suddenly felt overwhelmed. My mum had once tried to get me to go shopping with her but I ended up frustrating her because I really didn’t want to be there. I would just nag and nag until she finally let me go home.
“What are your preferences?” He motioned at the clothes.
“Can you just pick something out for me? I’m kind of in a hurry,” as if on cue, Phoenix shouted something about hurrying up from his position outside the store.
The man studied my body and then scrutinized the rack of unique clothing items. He pulled out a wavy, short black skirt and striped navy-blue-and-white t-shirt that had an especially high neckline.
I handed my purchases over to the rude cashier and watched as she scanned my items. The price that I was told made me have a double take. That much for just a skirt and t-shirt? Jeez!
Well, it wasn’t my money so I happily unfolded the bundle and handed her the money; muttering something about keeping the change as I ran to the changing rooms and switched outfits.
I had no time to look at myself in the mirror because Phoenix was probably getting more infuriated by the second. It was his fault for making me come here in the first place!
“Took you long enough,” he chastised.
I stuffed my comfort-clothes and the remainder of his money into my bag and then scowled. “You’re the one that forced me to buy new clothes,” at least I was still allowed to wear the Converse.
He eyed me up. “It was worth it,” he stated bluntly.
I know that I should have felt embarrassed but I really didn’t care. What worried me was having to ride his motorbike with my arms around him when I was wearing a skirt. All I could hope for was that he didn’t brake suddenly because then I’d be catapulted into his back... in a skirt.
“Yeah,” I replied as I swung my leg over the seat and waited for him to do the same. “Where to?” I asked.
He flat-out ignored me and instead turned the key to his bike and sent us speeding down the street. If he didn’t kill me with his bare hands then he would probably kill us both with his insane riding.
My hair was flailing around my head like a black wildfire. I knew that I should have tied it up!
As the journey progressed, I noticed that we were slowly leaving the town behind us and nearing the more open fields and country houses. I didn’t dare ask him why in case he got distracted and forgot to turn or something.
We suddenly pulled to a stop next to a beaten-down house and I quickly unwrapped my arms from around his torso and stepped off his death machine.
“I’m pretty sure you bruised me with your claws, Barbie,” he climbed off the bike and rubbed at a spot on his ribs and lifted up his shirt to make certain of his hypothesis.
As expected, there were four red spots on either side of his exposed upper body and I felt slightly bad. “You were the one that was speeding! I didn’t want to die,” I defended.
He poked at the spots and I watched his fingers as they traced each red mark. When he loosened his grip on his t-shirt and the material fell, I turned away to hide the embarrassment that I felt since I had been openly gawking at his stomach.
He didn’t seem to notice or care and sauntered up to the slowly crumbling house. I observed as he pounded on the door and called for the occupant to open up. When he got no reply, he growled and furiously tried to see if the door was open by tugging at the handle. When he found that it was locked, he took a step back. I joined him with the expectation of leaving but I must have interpreted his backwards movement wrong because a second later, he rammed his foot into the rotting wood and smiled devilishly when the door splintered and flew open.
I stared at the scene before me in shock. What the hell just happened?
He stepped forward and raised his hands to amplify his voice as he yelled. “Gibson you mother fucker, get out here!” He commanded loudly and angrily.
I was shaking from my position outside the door. If I was that Gibson character then I wouldn’t have approached Phoenix either.
With a final stretch to prepare myself, I entered the house and saw Phoenix standing at the centre of the room. Couches with the innards sticking out were strewn across the dilapidated room and a small TV was buzzing. There must have been someone there just minutes before.
He sneered from frustration and then stomped up the stairs.
Like the idiot I was, I followed him up and found him standing before yet another hoary door. He fumbled with the handle and snarled. “Open the fucking door, Gibson, or I’ll kick this one in as well,” when he got no reply, he started counting down.
For a moment, I just assumed that ‘Gibson’ wasn’t in but as Phoenix reached ‘one’ on his countdown, the door flew open and a man that was bald held his hands up and laughed nervously. “Oh, Knight! I didn’t know it was you...” he explained nervously. “If I did then I wouldn’t have –”
Phoenix kicked him in the chest and stepped into the room. Once again, I idiotically followed suit.
“Where the hell did you put it?” He demanded.
The man on the floor was clutching as his chest and mumbling incoherently to himself.
“Gibson!” Phoenix yelled.
“Me? Oh yah. Hey there, Phoenix,” he stared at the ground and then at Phoenix. He had a far-off look in his eyes and the rims were tinted with red. “When did you get here? Oh. Yeah. Hi,” he shakily turned to face me and it was as if he looked right through me. “Who’s that? Phoenix. She looks really pretty,” he crawled forward and attempted to touch my arm but Phoenix spun and slammed his foot into Gibson’s chest again.
The man collapsed to the floor and groaned. “Why’d you do that?”
“You’re doing Meth again,” Phoenix barked.
“What? Me? Meth? Phoenix, man. Y-you know me, man. I don’t d-do that stuff any-anymore,” he attempted to speak. He scratched at his hair in confusion and then his attention drifted to me again. “She’s so tall,” he wondered aloud.
I was staring at the scene before me in shock. This was all so frightening but I found that my feet were plastered to the floor beneath me. This was one of those things I hated about myself! When I was shaken, I couldn’t do anything. I just froze. And stared.
Phoenix tapped Gibson’s cheek to gain his attention. “Just tell me where you fucking put it,” he ordered silently.
Gibson stared at him for a while longer. “What is ‘it’?” he asked in a puzzled manner.
Phoenix pulled out an object from beneath his t-shirt that had been strapped to his pasty white skin by his belt.
A loud bang resonated through the room and Gibson cried out in pain. I stared at his foot with ringing ears and almost cried. Red. Red. Fucking red. He was bleeding out onto the floor.
He stared at the wound in confusion and then gawked at Phoenix. “Why the hell am I bleeding? Phoenix, man. What the hell just happened?”
“Where did you put the package?” Phoenix ordered icily. “Tell me where it is and I’ll call for an ambulance.”
The puddle of blood was slowly growing and Gibson appeared to be getting weaker. He ran a finger through the liquid and then stared at Phoenix. “Package?” He wondered aloud and played with the blood on his hands. “Oh yah! Talk to Mike, man,” he muttered excitedly.
Phoenix pulled out his phone and called the emergency number. He told the dispatcher on the other end that he had found someone with a gun-shot wound that was bleeding out. He then recited the address and hang up.
“You have ten minutes, don’t pass out,” Phoenix told Gibson as he walked to the door and exited the room.
I stared between the door and the bleeding man. A tear escaped from the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek. I lifted my hand and wiped it away before finally breaking out of my trance and chasing after Phoenix.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed when I found him outside by his bike.
“You’re the one that wanted to hang out with me today,” he muttered as he climbed aboard.
“You shot him you crazy idiot!”
“We need to get out of here before the meds arrive,” he ignored me. “And stop crying, it’s not pretty on you, Barbie.”
“Stop calling me that!” I ordered incredulously. “What if he died?”
“It was a minor wound, the bleeding would kill him but the med’s won’t take long to get here to help,” he explained.
I got onto the bike and wiped at the tears on my jolted face before putting on my backpack that I had left behind with the Harley when he entered the house. I was so shocked and so scared that there was no way in hell I would argue with him.
The ride back into town seemed silent despite the roaring of wind past my ears. I was in my own world again. I couldn’t even appreciate the beautiful scenes whizzing past me because I was so lost in thoughts of blood and pain. I didn’t even know he had a gun! That situation had escalated so quickly that all I could do was replay it over and over in my jumbled brain.
Phoenix Knight shot someone. Phoenix Knight actually shot someone and didn’t seem to care in the least. It was like he had no conscience. I don’t know why I was surprised. Wait, I knew why. I always knew that Phoenix was a ‘badass’ but really I just thought he committed minor offences; you know, white collar stuff. But, hell! He shot a man!
Perhaps I could define him as a psychopath now. Only someone that was mentally disturbed could shoot another human being and simply leave the man – who, may I just say, was completely drugged up – with only paramedics who were miles away as a form of aid.
As we neared the city centre, I heard the shrill echoing of a siren. The ambulance zoomed past us and I sighed from relief. Maybe Gibson would survive after all. I thought about the poor middle-aged with his blood-shot eyes, round belly and perplexed demeanour. I understand that he was out of it but really he should have at least tried to work his brain so that a gun wasn’t Phoenix’s last resort.
Don’t do drugs, kids.
Phoenix pulled up in front of a bar and grill. I didn’t realise that I was still holding onto him until he unclasped my arms and waited for me to get off. My feet felt uncomfortably shaky as I stood.
“Why are we here?” I questioned as I protectively crossed my arms over my chest.
“I thought you might need a pick me up,” he offered with a shrug.
“I don’t drink,” I stood my ground.
He paused at the entrance and pointed up at the sign above him. “Bar and grill,” with that, he pushed open the wood and glass door.
I kept my school bag on and followed him in.
The scene before me once I edged into the bar was awkward. Phoenix seemed to have drawn a crowd of bulky men to himself and I feared that they were going to try and injure him until I heard loud laughs escape the lips of several of the group members.
“Who’s the babe?” Another man asked, finally realising that I was present.
I held the straps of my bag with sweaty palms.
“That’s just Barbie, she’s my side kick for the day,” Phoenix introduced nonchalantly. “We have to get some lunch, do you guys mind?” Without waiting for a response, Phoenix pushed past the crowd and took a seat in a corner booth where he patiently waited for me to join him.
Oh, so now he’s patient, I thought bitterly as I grudgingly made my way to the booth.
He was studying a menu and gave orders to a waitress.
“How the hell are you still hungry enough to eat when you just shot a person?” I hissed and then looked around cautiously to make sure no one had heard.
“You don’t have to whisper around here,” his mismatched eyes displayed a hint of amusement. That was probably the happiest I had seen him in the hours we had been together.
I glanced at him from my seat on the opposite side of the cushioned booth. It was a bar so there weren’t really any windows for me to look through. Besides, I didn’t think I could really zone out when I was feeling so touchy. Even the tiniest of unexpected squeaks could induce a reaction from me. The gun had made me jumpy and uncomfortable.
“You really need to calm down,” Phoenix observed.
My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. Did he just say ‘calm down’? “Did you really just say that?” I had to ensure that I had heard right.
“Yes, I did,” he confirmed. “You haven’t even taken off your bag.”
I glanced at my shoulders where the straps were digging into my skin. It was weird having it on since the thick contents caused me to sit at the edge of my seat but I was not going to take it off. In the case of an emergency – which I had come to realise would be more likely than not with someone like Phoenix – then it would be convenient to have my bag on me.
“What if you get caught?” I questioned nervously.
He grunted from annoyance. “I won’t.”
How the hell was he so sure of himself? I was basically shitting bricks in my seat; looking at the entrance to the bar and grill in case the police came crashing in with handcuffs that had my name engraved into the cold metal.
I didn’t bother questioning him further in case I accidentally pissed him off and he decided that my face would be his next target. I liked having a face...
The waitress returned moments later with the food and drinks. He had taken it upon himself to choose my lunch and I wasn’t about to complain.
Along with a Sprite, he had been courteous enough to order me a plate of chips (French fries to some) which I picked at thoughtfully. Unlike him, I didn’t think my stomach was quite ready for food. Perhaps it would even stay that way for a couple of weeks. Seeing someone get shot was unsettling.
“I’m paying for your stupid lunch so can you at least eat it?” He stared at me warningly.
I lifted a single chip to my mouth and chewed awkwardly. “Mmmm,” I attempted to enjoy the meal.
When a flash of irritation lit up his eyes, I used the fork to grab four chips and crammed them into my mouth and forced myself to actually eat. Once I had fooled my mind, my tummy seemed to realise that it was suddenly 100% empty and I stuffed my face relentlessly.
“For someone that was unreasonably guilty just minutes ago, you sure do eat a lot,” he observed once I had cleared my plate.
I leaned back into the seat with my bag arching my back slightly. “For someone that is supposed to be scary and weird, you sure do notice a lot.”
A moment passed during which we both just studied each other faces. We were very similar in that way; we liked to examine and understand more about people and places than the average teenager normally should have. I didn’t enjoy being like him, that, it so I turned away and coughed uncomfortably. He laughed emotionlessly at my embarrassment and stood.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Aren’t you going to pay the bill?”
He shrugged it off. “The owner owes me.” I watched as he sauntered to the exit and no one bothered him about paying. Maybe the owner did owe him. But why?
I strolled out into the breezy afternoon air. “What was the package that you were talking to Gibson about?” The thought of Gibson’s foot bleeding out made my palms perspire all over again.
“Doesn’t matter to you,” he replied.
We stood on the pavement directly outside the bar. “Who’s Mike?”
“Again, it doesn’t matter to you, Barbie,” he brushed me off, irritation evident in his guarded tone.
“Stop calling me Barbie, fucktard,” I ordered heatedly. “Why does the bar owner owe you?”
He took a sudden step forward and bent slightly so that he was looking directly into my eyes. “You. Don’t. Need. To. Know,” I stared at him with wide eyes and tried to take a step backwards but found that my feet had frozen on me again. Shit. Shit. Shit.
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