18 AND LIFE

On a warm, Summer night, locals began to fill restaurants and clubs, all while Ricky dawdled down main street. Those that passed him by tried their best not to stare, and if they were women, they clutched their purses securely. They sure knew how to make Ricky understand that he was from the undesirable “edge of town.”

Ignoring what Brandon had said, Ricky followed the illuminated street with the intention of making his way to Pete’s dodgy and illegal used goods store. Peter was a friend of Ricky’s, the only guy that was crazy enough to buy such hot property.
Ricky stopped dead in his tracks at the corner of the street once he saw a cop car, cruising along in his direction. Fearing that the police were already looking for the Porsche, Ricky stepped into a nearby building, waiting until things cooled down.

Realising that he had entered a high class restaurant , Ricky sat at a small table and hid behind the menu. He felt so out of place as he absorbed the cosy atmosphere. Warmth was foreign to him, and the food smelt amazing.

“Excuse me..”

“I didn’t do anything!” Ricky snapped, automatically.

“I was just asking if you want to order?” a young waitress asked, looking shocked.

“Uh....oh....um. No, not yet,” Ricky replied, trying to avoid eye contact.
As the waitress walked away, Ricky’s attention was caught by the thing that would change his life forever.

Bonnie smiled with a hint of fear. Slowly, she opened a small box, roughly tied with a black ribbon. She couldn’t help but laugh when her dainty fingers revealed a ratty troll charm with crazy pink hair.

“I swiped that from you a few years ago,” Bonnie’s best friend Robyn explained.

“You fool,” Bonnie laughed. “ I knew you took it!”

“Here’s your real present,” Robyn smiled, passing her a framed photo of the two of them on their first day of kindergarten.

“That is so sweet! Thank you!” Bonnie exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly.

“I knew that kind of crap would impress you. Now, I’d like to make a toast.”
Bonnie and her friends watched Robyn stand up, a tad bit drunk.

“Rob..what are you doing?” Bonnie asked, nervous.

“I’m making a toast, to Bonnie! You are beautiful, sweet and we all love you. Here’s to 18, and a life to go. And now It’s legal, I expect you to finish off this bottle of wine.... before I do.”

Before Robyn could sit down, the very same waitress that approached Ricky, walked past, crashing into her spilling red wine all over Robyn’s clothes. The waitress glared, then continued walking.

“You bitch! Can I at least get an apology?” Robyn yelled. The staff continued to ignore her.

“Hey!” Bonnie snapped. “Say sorry to my friend, and clean that up please.” Instantly the waitress returned with a cloth, apologising constantly.

“I can’t believe it!” Bonnie said with disgust.

“I’d fight her, don’t you worry,” Robyn said, brushing off her skirt before sitting back down at the table.

“She wasn’t going to do anything until I spoke. Is it because I have my father’s credit card? Do credit cards equal respect?” Bonnie wondered outraged.

“ ’Fraid so. Welcome to the real world as an adult. It sucks,” Robyn slurred, sculling another glass.

Bonnie stared across the room, watching intensely. She didn’t even notice her friends talking at her.

“Bonnie?” Robyn asked.

“Look at that!” Bonnie replied, pointing to the table in the corner.

“So?”

“They’re hassling that poor guy just because he’s.... well, poor! Just because he isn’t wearing a tie doesn’t mean that he is not worthy of respect! ... Actually, he’s kind of cute,” Bonnie said with a dreamy smile.

“Oh, Bonnie. Not him. Do you know who he is?” Robyn asked. Bonnie shook her head, smiling. “He’s bad news, that’s what. He’s the one that held principle Nair for ransom, and he didn’t even go to our school! You can do so much better than that.”

“I think you should leave,” a lanky, angry looking man said with a stern tone. He wore a black business suit and had stressful wrinkles across his face.

“I have the right to be here,” Ricky said coolly.

“He’s only here to start trouble,” the waitress whispered to the man of authority. It was only an assumption on her behalf, although one could not blame her.
Most customers dining in wore polished shoes, Ricky wore sneakers , the left one with the AC/DC logo scribbled on with a permanent marker. Others would wear clean clothes that were in high fashion and regarded “decent”. Ricky wore a pair of faded, torn jeans and a leather jacket. Most people styled their hair with gel or hairspray, Ricky didn’t style at all. Most sat around laughing and sharing stories from their weekend at yacht club. Ricky grinded a butter knife into the table, with no ambition at all.

Along with another waitress and a chef, they circled the table, as if to intimidate Ricky.

“Look punk. I don’t know what you’re here for, and frankly I don’t care. You obviously don’t have money, therefore are not a customer. Now leave before the police ask you to. Don’t make me remove you myself,” the man threatened.

Ricky faced a tough situation. His stubborn desire to defend his pride prevented him from leaving, even though his conscience begged him to run at the word “police.” A cheeky, sly grin grew on his face and his frosty blue eyes glistened. “Make me, fucker,” Ricky replied.

They all gasped in pure shock, before being barged out of the way. “He’s with me,” Bonnie said confidently, sitting in the chair across from Ricky. Ricky stared right into her innocent, hazel eyes and cocked his eyebrow indifferently. She looked over her shoulder to see them still standing there. “Did you not hear me?”

“Sorry Ma’am,” the man apologized and hurried away.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ricky asked.

“I’m the girl that just saved your sorry ass. No need to thank me,” Bonnie replied.

“Saved me? What the hell are you talking about? I had it covered, ok? I don’t need some prissy little bitch to fight for me,” Ricky snapped with frustration.

“I know I said there’s no need to thank me, but you could at least crack a smile,” Bonnie said amused.

“Whatever. I’m outta here,” Ricky said, noticing the back exit to the building.

“Wait! Don’t leave!” Bonnie yelled, chasing after him. “My name’s Bonnie.”

“Who fucking cares?” he yelled back.

“What’s your name?” she yelled, not caring about his obvious lack of interest in her.

“Santa Claus.”

“Well, Mr Claus ... you dropped your wallet!” she screamed out, laughing. He turned around and saw her holding it. Sighing, he began to walk back to her, when the sudden noise of sirens approaching startled him. Almost instinctively, Ricky threw himself at Bonnie, pressing his face against hers. He hoped that by making out with this woman, becoming lost in her long, soft, red hair, the police would drive past unsuspiciously.

Ricky was a genius.