Status: Completed. Comments?
The Passenger's Seat
Three
Now fully dressed, Garrett pulled up at a twenty-four hour convenience store not too far from the club. “So you went in my car to hide from someone?” he asked the girl on the passenger’s seat, who introduced herself earlier as Roxie. Garrett couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the girl for some reason. Clearly, she was tremendously stoned and smashed.
She nodded briefly; eyeing the store’s broken neon sign that read ANALS instead of CHANTAL’S with a somber face on.
“Er, who exactly?” he asked, looking at the sign too. On a normal basis Garrett would have laughed at it, but it was too much of an unparallel night.
Without warning, Roxie laughed – a haunting, looming laugh. “Garrett? Do you think… they meant for that sign to be broken? I mean… so it’d attract more people…,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
Garrett stared at the sign. “I don’t think so.”
Roxie turned her head to Garrett’s direction and frowned, like he had just said something insulting. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it would be misleading.” He couldn’t believe he was with a hot, intoxicated girl, at probably three in the morning, in his car, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. He could already see his brother’s image in his mind shaking his head in disgust. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. I badly need that drink, Garrett thought.
He stepped out of the car and walked on the sidewalk towards the store.
“Hey! Wait for me!” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, but, due to her killer high heels, stumbled by her third step and landed on a pile of trash bags by the entrance. Roxie burst into a fit of whimsical giggles.
“Need help there?” said Garrett, holding out a hand out of his jacket pocket.
“No no no,” she blurted. “I’m fine here… I’m making trash angels!” Roxie held out her arms and legs wide and began sweeping them around frantically as she chortled.
“Enough partying for you tonight.” I never thought I’d say that to a girl, Garrett thought. Once again, Garrett sighed and hauled her out of the pile of bags. Putting an arm around her small body for support, he said, “Come on, let’s get you some water.”
The convenience store looked like any other. It was a wide, spacious room with bright fluorescent lights that hurt your eyes and several aisles of diverse items, ranging from food to toiletries. On the counter was a short, exotic looking man in his forties, reading a copy of Playboy, not the least bit interested in his customers.
Garrett wandered over to the far side of the store where the drinks section was and opened the first refrigerator, letting the cool air touch his face, and pulled out a bottle of water. He went over to the third refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
“You’re not actually paying for that are you?” Roxie said coolly from behind him, who seemed surprisingly normal compared to her earlier state.
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “We’re not stealing, Roxie,” he said, making his way to the counter, walking past her, feeling immensely disturbed at how responsible he was tonight.
She glared at him. “Yeah we are.” And with one swift movement, she took the bottles out of his hands, and rushed out of the store, leaving only the small tinker of the bell by the door.
Simultaneously, the owner shot out of his chair abruptly and yelled in a thick Indian accent, “Thief! Thief! The man – who Nathan saw from his name plate, was Chantal, picked up his telephone and began calling, what Garrett suspected, the police.
“Oh, fuck,” Garrett said under his breath.
Chantal’s dark eyes widened when he saw Garrett. “The accomplice! You! Stay right here!” he said to the unmoving Garrett. “Police? Yes I have a robbery in my store!”
Run, damn it, run, growled Mark in his head. Garrett didn’t have to be told twice. He dashed out of the store, went in his car and drove to the direction Roxie went.
She nodded briefly; eyeing the store’s broken neon sign that read ANALS instead of CHANTAL’S with a somber face on.
“Er, who exactly?” he asked, looking at the sign too. On a normal basis Garrett would have laughed at it, but it was too much of an unparallel night.
Without warning, Roxie laughed – a haunting, looming laugh. “Garrett? Do you think… they meant for that sign to be broken? I mean… so it’d attract more people…,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
Garrett stared at the sign. “I don’t think so.”
Roxie turned her head to Garrett’s direction and frowned, like he had just said something insulting. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it would be misleading.” He couldn’t believe he was with a hot, intoxicated girl, at probably three in the morning, in his car, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. He could already see his brother’s image in his mind shaking his head in disgust. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. I badly need that drink, Garrett thought.
He stepped out of the car and walked on the sidewalk towards the store.
“Hey! Wait for me!” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, but, due to her killer high heels, stumbled by her third step and landed on a pile of trash bags by the entrance. Roxie burst into a fit of whimsical giggles.
“Need help there?” said Garrett, holding out a hand out of his jacket pocket.
“No no no,” she blurted. “I’m fine here… I’m making trash angels!” Roxie held out her arms and legs wide and began sweeping them around frantically as she chortled.
“Enough partying for you tonight.” I never thought I’d say that to a girl, Garrett thought. Once again, Garrett sighed and hauled her out of the pile of bags. Putting an arm around her small body for support, he said, “Come on, let’s get you some water.”
The convenience store looked like any other. It was a wide, spacious room with bright fluorescent lights that hurt your eyes and several aisles of diverse items, ranging from food to toiletries. On the counter was a short, exotic looking man in his forties, reading a copy of Playboy, not the least bit interested in his customers.
Garrett wandered over to the far side of the store where the drinks section was and opened the first refrigerator, letting the cool air touch his face, and pulled out a bottle of water. He went over to the third refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
“You’re not actually paying for that are you?” Roxie said coolly from behind him, who seemed surprisingly normal compared to her earlier state.
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “We’re not stealing, Roxie,” he said, making his way to the counter, walking past her, feeling immensely disturbed at how responsible he was tonight.
She glared at him. “Yeah we are.” And with one swift movement, she took the bottles out of his hands, and rushed out of the store, leaving only the small tinker of the bell by the door.
Simultaneously, the owner shot out of his chair abruptly and yelled in a thick Indian accent, “Thief! Thief! The man – who Nathan saw from his name plate, was Chantal, picked up his telephone and began calling, what Garrett suspected, the police.
“Oh, fuck,” Garrett said under his breath.
Chantal’s dark eyes widened when he saw Garrett. “The accomplice! You! Stay right here!” he said to the unmoving Garrett. “Police? Yes I have a robbery in my store!”
Run, damn it, run, growled Mark in his head. Garrett didn’t have to be told twice. He dashed out of the store, went in his car and drove to the direction Roxie went.