We Are So Screwed

“I’m so bored!” I groaned in agitation.

“You’ve got three cracked ribs what the fuck are you gonna do?” Slater said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Go buy the shit and pierce my nose.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

“You still know how to do piercings and tattoos. Pierce my nose.”

“What? You want your septum done again?”

“No just a simple nose ring.”

“Fine.” She grumbled. “I have to go see Kendal anyways.”

Kendal owned the tattoo shop, where Slater was an apprentice. “You’re still apprentice.” I thought about it.

“Yeah,” she dead panned.

Apprenticing was one of her least favorite parts of tattooing. She understood she had to do it, and the people she worked with were pretty cool, but she was used to running things.

She moved from the chair she was standing in and walked up stairs. I listened for the door to shut and once that happened. I rose from my bed. I gingerly walked up the stairs into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of Fiji and sat down at the Mac that was temporarily set up in the kitchen. I could have just as easily got on my laptop downstairs, but it was driving me crazy. Red, black and silver were my favorite colors, but even though it hadn’t been long, I was going crazy looking at them constantly.

I looked up some of my favorite transformers fansites and got absolutely nothing. I then went and looked up transformers. I got the electrical kind.

I slammed my fist down on the counter. “Don’t know why I fucking bothered.” I grumbled.

I cleared out the history, and just because I was extremely paranoid, I completely wiped it. I dug around in the fridge, grabbing the milk and heading over to the cabinet, where I grabbed my frosted flakes. I needed something to do. This sitting around, waiting on my ribs shit was getting really old. I finished my cereal and was about to head back down stairs to check if all of the wiring and stuff for my electronic set up was done.

Then there was a knock on the door. I grabbed the remote and looked up at the monitor in the corner of the kitchen that led to the living room. I saw Simmons standing there with the guy who was cosigning for him when he was tied up my Sam and Mikaela. Not Banachek, but the other guy. I walked over and pulled the door open.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked

“Oh look, it’s Crazy.”

“I am not crazy.” I glared at him.

“Alright, whatever Angry then. I’m here to check out your place for anything strange,” he said.

“You got a warrant?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact…” He pulled out the paper. I looked it over. He knew Slater was gonna insist on one. I gestured for them to enter.

“YOU MAKE A FUCKING MESS YOU CLEAN IT UP!” I screeched.

I went over in the corner of the kitchen and stood by the door there. I did not trust them in my room alone. “So tell me what you’re looking for,” I said.

“Sorry Ronald, but that is classified.”

I picked up a kitchen knife and waved it dangerously. “Compare me to a clown on e more fucking time.”

“You got the hair.”

“What’s behind you?” he asked.

“A door.”

“To what?”

“The basement.”

“What’s in the basement?”

“My room.”

“Are you trying to hide something here?” he asked.

“No, but I do not trust you in my room, so I’m going to wait until your goons quit searching my house and then I can make sure they don’t fuck up my computers or get their disgusting nerdy geeky hands to close to my clothes. It’s extremely difficult to get dumbass and blue collar out of Chanel,” I sneered.

He glared. I was indifferent. I could damn near kill him with a glare of my own. “Rich bitch,” he said.

“Aww is someone jealous?” I patronized. “Because I can do this and you can’t.” I pulled one one of the cupboard doors the one with the grocery money in it. Now we didn’t have a set amount. We just threw money in it, whenever. I pulled the cash out of the jar and started to count it.

“One-hundred… Two-hundred… Three-hundred… Four hundred… Five hundred… Six-“

“Alright Johnny Flame, let’s go.” He pushed me so that he could walk down. I hissed in pain. “Oh that’s right. You’re ribs aren’t healed yet,” he said smugly. “Seems someone isn’t nearly as tough as she acts.”

“Just go!” I snapped. I walked behind him gingerly.

He looked around. “Holy hell, Kid! You said it was you’re room this is a damn apartment.”

He looked around the part of my room that was pretty much a living room of sorts. He walked into the bathroom and then walked over to my vanity. He went to touch a bottle of perfume, and I smack his hand away. He dug through my drawers. They were filled with perfume, make-up and hair stuff. He went to touch my jewelry box. “Don’t touch it. The box alone costs more than your fucking life,” I growled.

“Chill Fire Crotch.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Fine then you open it.” he said.

I pulled the drawers open one time, digging through the necklaces, bracelets, rings and earrings. “How rich are you and Blondie?”

“Are you done?” I asked, wanting to get him the hell away from the box.

“Did C-“

Ignoring screeching pain when my ribs protested, I grabbed Simmons and turned him around before slamming him against the wall pressing my forearm into his neck. He struggled to breathe. I got right up in his face. “Listen here cock sucker, unless you want me to press my arm into your throat just a little bit harder,” I leaned my wait into him the pressure of my arm on his throat increasing. “I suggest that you leave me the hell alone, and I swear to god, if you ever EVER mention Casey again, I will kill you so fucking fast you won’t have a god damned clue what hit you.” I pressed even harder, before letting him go. He slumped to the floor.

“You just assaulted-“

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!” I screamed. I put my foot on his throat. I put just enough force on it, so that it was difficult, but he could breathe. “I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND! Listen we’re the not fucking around crew. You’re not going to find anything. There’s nothing around, so I suggest you join the crew and quit fucking around.” I pulled my foot off and stood back. “Get up and go act like you didn’t just get your ass handed to you by an eighteen year old, and get the fuck out of my house.”

He sent me a steely glare, which I responded with one of my own. I could see him internally cringing back. “I don’t know what you and the blonde are up to, but I will figure it out. Once I do you and her and who ever said something about NBEs to you are going to rot in jail for the rest of your pathetic lives.”

“One question Simmons. If you and your goons say you know what I said, why ask?”

“Verification.”

“Well you can’t verify shit cause I have no clue what the hell I said.” I gestured towards the doorway. He walked out and back upstairs. Half way up the steps I heard the yell.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?!” I heard Slater scream.

“THEY’RE LEAVING!” I screamed. We came up the stairs and Slater looked like she was about to rip Simmons’ throat out.

“Alright, let’s move out!” Simmons called. Every one stopped what they were doing and looked at Simmons. “YOU HEARD ME!” He yelled. They all began to file out. Once they were gone, slater turned to me.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked.

“They had a fucking warrant.”

“Shit! Where’d they go?

“Everywhere,” I answered. I grabbed another bottle of water. “I slammed Simmons against the wall, choked with my forearm, then with my foot. I threatened the shit out of him.”

“We need a plan.”

“I’m working on it. I have an idea.”

“And what does this idea require?”

“A little bit of time and meds.”