He reached and grabbed a condom, tearing it open with his teeth because his other hand was busy.
“Lee…”
He was multi-tasking, so he muttered, “Yeah?”
“I won’t leave you, even if you act like an ass**le.”
His head came up and he looked at me, and his eyes, which, until that moment still held a bit of ticked off, went melty-chocolate.
“Christ, Indy.”
I kissed him while I reached between us and guided him inside me. He started moving immediately.
In his ear, really quietly, I whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right where I’ve always wanted to be.”
His mouth moved to mine and he said, “It’s about f**king time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Splat
Ally, Willie and I were sitting outside Liks Ice Cream Parlour. It was approximately three hundred degrees in the shade but we were still sitting out on the patio because what else do you do when you’re at Liks? Even in December, you at least considered the patio when you went to Liks.
After Lee and my love-in, Willie had come over because he’d pulled Indy Watch for the day.
Lee went to work, Willie and I went to Fortnum’s, and, in the afternoon, Ally and I took Willie to the mall.
We were treating him to a waffle cone because he’d managed to survive an Indy and Ally Do Cherry Creek Shopping Center Experience complete with full-on explorations of Levi’s, Lucky and Diesel and fly-bys through Guess and Urban Outfitters.
After I’d asked Willie how he felt about the tenth pair of Lucky jeans I tried on, he told me he was going to hunt down and murder Terry Wilcox his own damned self.
Hmm.
(I didn’t buy the jeans.)
I was feeling weird because I wasn’t feeling weird about admitting to Lee that I loved him and I thought I should be feeling weird.
Question, what did you do when you got exactly what you always wanted?
Answer, you went shopping with your best friend, then got ice cream.
I was barely keeping up with my melting double dip of dark chocolate with dark chocolate chunks when I heard, “Cool! It’s the Rock Chicks.”
I looked up and stared in total shock at The Kevster and Rosie who were heading our way, both carrying their own double dip waffle cones (you didn’t do a single dip at Liks, it was the law) and looking like they didn’t have a care in the world.
At their approach, Willie stood, handing his cone to Ally.
The Kevster reared back at Willie’s defensive posture and put up a hand, index and middle finger extended.
“Dude. We come in peace.”
“It’s okay, we know them,” I told Willie.
Willie relaxed, slightly.
“I thought you two were in jail,” I said to The Kevster and Rosie, coming to my feet.
“Made bond,” Rosie replied, an “O” of ice cream coating his lips (if I had to guess, by the looks of it, rocky road).
“Who paid your bond?” Ally asked, also on her feet.
“Our fairy godmother?” The Kevster responded and it was a question.
I looked at Ally, then back at The Kevster. “You don’t know who paid your bond?”
“Should we?” The Kevster looked confused, or, more confused than usual.
I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.
“Is that even possible?” Ally was talking to Willie.
“Did you read the papers?” Willie didn’t respond to Ally, he was looking at the two grunge muffins and their ice cream cones and he didn’t seem happy.
“Papers?” This was clearly more than The Kevster could process.
Before we could continue this useless conversation, a black BMW with shaded windows came to a screeching halt on 13th Avenue. It didn’t park, it stopped in one of the three through lanes.
“Oh shit,” Ally said, eyes on the BMW.
“Get to the car,” Willie ordered, all relaxation gone.
Before we could make a move, Goon Gary and The Moron were headed our way.
“Get to the car,” Willie repeated.
For some reason, everyone stood stock-still.
“Dudes,” The Kevster greeted Goon Gary and The Moron as they approached, obviously not knowing who they were and also not feeling the tense vibe electrifying the air.
Rosie had gone pale and his ice cream cone was melting down his hand.
Goon Gary and The Moron ignored us, their eyes on Willie.
Willie pushed me behind him.
“You know who I am?” Willie asked Gary and The Moron.
The Moron nodded slowly, Gary didn’t respond.
“Then you’ll walk away,” Willie continued.
“Mr. Wilcox wants to talk to you,” Gary said, he was still looking at Willie but talking to Rosie. Not me. Rosie. Gary was on a mission, a mission important enough to ignore a police officer’s order.
Not good.
“Hey, I know you! You came looking for…” The Kevster’s four working brain cells finally fired and he recognized the boys. Then, he shouted, “Fuck!”
He threw his ice cream cone at Goon Gary, it splatted in his face and The Kevster took off running.
“What the –” Gary started to say, stunned immobile, what looked like Liks famous strawberry cheesecake ice cream dripping off his cheek and chin.
Splat!
Rosie threw his ice cream cone too, it hit Gary on the side of the head. Then he took off after The Kevster.
Splat!
Ally threw one of her cones at The Moron and it hit him in the chest. At this, Willie grabbed me and started to pull me away.
Splat!
Ally threw Willie’s cone, it hit Goon Gary in the shoulder.
Not to be outdone (even though it was a sacrifice, dark chocolate with dark chocolate chunks was the best), on the trot and being pulled by Willie, I aimed my cone at The Moron and, as he’d turned and started after us, it nailed him in the belly.
We all jumped into Willie’s Nissan Pathfinder. Goon Gary and The Moron gave up on us and headed to the BMW. Willie started up before we had our belts on, took off and we rocketed from the curb. Ally hadn’t yet seated herself and she was tumbling around the backseat in a crinkle of bags that were our take from the Lucky and Levi’s stores.
I saw Rosie and The Kevster, on foot, flying down the sidewalk.
“Stop!” I shouted to Willie. “Pick them up.”
“Fuck no,” Willie responded.
“Stop!” I screeched, my voice shrill, looking back at the BMW on our tail. “We can’t let Wilcox have them!”
About a quarter of a block passed the running grunge gods, Willie stood on the brakes and we all flew forward, the BMW swerved to avoid us and shot by.