And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 12
You can read new chapters of this story and post comments on Mibba.
The smoke caused a searing pain in Mike's sinuses. His eyes streamed tears and threatened to slam shut. It had to be tear gas. Regardless, he tried to sprint back into the main room, but the big guy grabbed his shoulder. "Who said you could leave? I'm not done talking to you."
"I don't give a flying fuck about your 'employer'," Mike snarled as he tried to pry off the huge fingers that were digging into his shoulder. "Let me go!"
The big guy slammed Mike against the wall, crushing the bassist. Desperately, Mike clobbered the fatso in the head. It was enough to stun him, and Mike ran off.
The main area of the bar was total chaos. On stage, there was an amp sparking like mad ; it was on fire. Policemen were standing in the middle of the floor, guns pulled out. Two of them were handcuffing a struggling teenager. Mike noticed that the waiter was trying to look inconspicuous. More officers were dragging people out of a back room. He knew exactly what went on in the semi-secret room. He'd been a part of it once or twice. Leave it to the cops to have a drug bust the night he tried to take Wren out.
Where is she? Oh God, what if she's been shot?
Frightened, Mike searched the crowd. He saw her standing over by the bar, flinching every time the amp sparked. Regardless of the flames licking from the stage, he ran over. She had her hand over her mouth, coughing as tears ran down her face.
"Let's get out of here." He shouted over the din, while glaring at the police. They were shouting something and waving their guns around before one shot the cymbals. The steel shattered with a ringing crash. Instantly everything was silent.
I guess I know why the amp's smoking. Stupid cops. A little trigger happy or what?
"Alright! Nobody move!"
Just as one officer bellowed it, the big guy came blundering through, looking rather angry. Angry enough that he was carrying a gun. To Mike, it was if everything came instantly into jagged, razor sharp focus. The cops fired off their guns and the big fellow dropped like a stone, blood staining ever-widening circles on his limbs. Yelling and clutching his arm, the big man dropped his gun. It landed on the trigger, firing a shot into the ceiling. Everyone flinched and ducked down. This new turn of events served to keep everyone quiet even more effectively than the destruction of the cymbals.
One officer barked, "You, over by the bar there." Determinedly, Mike put his arm around Wren. Nothing was going to happen to them unless it went through him first. "You can leave. Now. Everyone along these three walls," the cop gestured with his hand, "Can go. We don't want any more people involved in this than necessary."
Relieved, Mike and Wren stumbled out of the bar. Several police cruisers were outside, lights flashing. The sharp wind served to bring them back to consciousness, more effective than a slap in the face. Wren leaned on the hood of the car and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked still like she was a bit shocked. Mike sat beside her.
"I'm sorry about all that."
"It's not like you did anything, don't be sorry." She pulled him into a hug. Automatically, he hugged her back. "That was a bit freaky, with all the guns."
"Tell me about it. When that amp went, I had no idea whether it was a bomb or what." He felt her shivering under his touch. "C'mon you're freezing, let's go."
They got into the car and he started driving. Even though it was maybe not the best of ideas, he found the way back to the park where Billie Joe had gotten his tongue stuck. In Mike's original plan, they would have spent a great deal more time at the Last Nite before moving on to a different bar. Now, just in case something bad happened again, he had no great desire to go back into the bar scene. He leaned on the steering wheel after parking the car, and stared at the clear night sky.
Man, I could really use a joint right about now. He smiled at the irony of the thought. His favorite place to get one of those was most likely going to be out of that business after tonight.
Wren sighed and rested her head back on her seat. "I know that we aren't normal, but why can't we ever have one normal day?"
"We did have a few," Mike replied, "At least they started out that way. Then we got bored."
"Good point." She closed her eyes. Mike watched her breathe. She looked stressed. Mike gently ran his finger down her cheek. She smiled and opened her eyes. "Notice that we never start this in a bedroom?"
"Yeah, but that's normal."
Mike started kissing her, very slowly. Maybe somewhere in his mind, he wanted it to be different than the harsh coupling of their last time--or the last time he was in this car.
She was not a cooperative. It seemed that he lit some sort of fuse. She held him tight and kissed back heatedly. Wordlessly, they moved into the back seat. Mike kept a measure of restraint, only touching her with his mouth, no hands. That rule went out the window when she dragged the pads of her fingers down his chest. He pulled off her jacket, nuzzling her neck. He loved the way her hands felt against his chest. It made him acutely aware of every cell of his being.
He smiled in a predatory way as she made little muffled noises. Not that he was completely silent either. "Wren," he panted between kisses. Before she could respond, he heard something tapping at the window. "Aw fuck," he groaned as a flashlight beamed him straight in the eyes.
"I don't give a flying fuck about your 'employer'," Mike snarled as he tried to pry off the huge fingers that were digging into his shoulder. "Let me go!"
The big guy slammed Mike against the wall, crushing the bassist. Desperately, Mike clobbered the fatso in the head. It was enough to stun him, and Mike ran off.
The main area of the bar was total chaos. On stage, there was an amp sparking like mad ; it was on fire. Policemen were standing in the middle of the floor, guns pulled out. Two of them were handcuffing a struggling teenager. Mike noticed that the waiter was trying to look inconspicuous. More officers were dragging people out of a back room. He knew exactly what went on in the semi-secret room. He'd been a part of it once or twice. Leave it to the cops to have a drug bust the night he tried to take Wren out.
Where is she? Oh God, what if she's been shot?
Frightened, Mike searched the crowd. He saw her standing over by the bar, flinching every time the amp sparked. Regardless of the flames licking from the stage, he ran over. She had her hand over her mouth, coughing as tears ran down her face.
"Let's get out of here." He shouted over the din, while glaring at the police. They were shouting something and waving their guns around before one shot the cymbals. The steel shattered with a ringing crash. Instantly everything was silent.
I guess I know why the amp's smoking. Stupid cops. A little trigger happy or what?
"Alright! Nobody move!"
Just as one officer bellowed it, the big guy came blundering through, looking rather angry. Angry enough that he was carrying a gun. To Mike, it was if everything came instantly into jagged, razor sharp focus. The cops fired off their guns and the big fellow dropped like a stone, blood staining ever-widening circles on his limbs. Yelling and clutching his arm, the big man dropped his gun. It landed on the trigger, firing a shot into the ceiling. Everyone flinched and ducked down. This new turn of events served to keep everyone quiet even more effectively than the destruction of the cymbals.
One officer barked, "You, over by the bar there." Determinedly, Mike put his arm around Wren. Nothing was going to happen to them unless it went through him first. "You can leave. Now. Everyone along these three walls," the cop gestured with his hand, "Can go. We don't want any more people involved in this than necessary."
Relieved, Mike and Wren stumbled out of the bar. Several police cruisers were outside, lights flashing. The sharp wind served to bring them back to consciousness, more effective than a slap in the face. Wren leaned on the hood of the car and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked still like she was a bit shocked. Mike sat beside her.
"I'm sorry about all that."
"It's not like you did anything, don't be sorry." She pulled him into a hug. Automatically, he hugged her back. "That was a bit freaky, with all the guns."
"Tell me about it. When that amp went, I had no idea whether it was a bomb or what." He felt her shivering under his touch. "C'mon you're freezing, let's go."
They got into the car and he started driving. Even though it was maybe not the best of ideas, he found the way back to the park where Billie Joe had gotten his tongue stuck. In Mike's original plan, they would have spent a great deal more time at the Last Nite before moving on to a different bar. Now, just in case something bad happened again, he had no great desire to go back into the bar scene. He leaned on the steering wheel after parking the car, and stared at the clear night sky.
Man, I could really use a joint right about now. He smiled at the irony of the thought. His favorite place to get one of those was most likely going to be out of that business after tonight.
Wren sighed and rested her head back on her seat. "I know that we aren't normal, but why can't we ever have one normal day?"
"We did have a few," Mike replied, "At least they started out that way. Then we got bored."
"Good point." She closed her eyes. Mike watched her breathe. She looked stressed. Mike gently ran his finger down her cheek. She smiled and opened her eyes. "Notice that we never start this in a bedroom?"
"Yeah, but that's normal."
Mike started kissing her, very slowly. Maybe somewhere in his mind, he wanted it to be different than the harsh coupling of their last time--or the last time he was in this car.
She was not a cooperative. It seemed that he lit some sort of fuse. She held him tight and kissed back heatedly. Wordlessly, they moved into the back seat. Mike kept a measure of restraint, only touching her with his mouth, no hands. That rule went out the window when she dragged the pads of her fingers down his chest. He pulled off her jacket, nuzzling her neck. He loved the way her hands felt against his chest. It made him acutely aware of every cell of his being.
He smiled in a predatory way as she made little muffled noises. Not that he was completely silent either. "Wren," he panted between kisses. Before she could respond, he heard something tapping at the window. "Aw fuck," he groaned as a flashlight beamed him straight in the eyes.
