“You’re going to be walking sideways soon, and we can’t have that,” he murmurs as he hands the Mason jar off to Knight.
We?Why does he keep using plural pronouns? And why is it irking me so?
Reese wraps his arm around my waist, locking me against him and his bike. My back to his side, while Dev’s suppressive blue laser beam ensnares me. I swallow thickly.
Before I internally combust, a black and yellow motorcycle comes veering out of nowhere. It circles around our small group several times, the pipes roaring annoyingly. We all grimace. They sound like a buzz saw. The rider parks next to Knight then removes his helmet. If I didn’t know it, I would have bet money it was Riley. He loves attention, and I have a feeling the only time he gets it is when he’s on a bike.
“What the fuck are you riding? A bumble bee?” Knight asks him, aghast.
The name is appropriate considering the skins are horrific.
Riley cackles, his laugh echoing up through the night sky.
“It’s my newly-acquired P.O.S. Won it ten minutes ago. Can’t believe the jackass actually raced me! Look at this thing.”
He dismounts the shabby machine, then kicks it. “I’m going to strip it for parts.”
“That’s about all it’s good for.” Knight curls his lip. “Scrap.”
“Guy was desperate to race. I couldn’t say no. He looked hard up, too. Needed a score, ya know.” He rubs his nose and inhales exaggeratedly. “Probably shouldn’t have even been driving.”
“And you raced him anyway?” I ask.
“’Course I did. Easy mark. I’m not an idiot.”
“Hell, yeah!” Knight high fives him. “That’s how we do.”
“I know, right? I mean, look at this shit.” Riley fishes into his jacket pocket and pulls out a handful of plastic.
“What the fuck is that?” Reese asks, as we all lean in curiously to look at what’s in his hand. Upon better inspection, I realize what he’s holding.
“Holy shit.” I grab his wrist and yank. “Are those all yours?”
What Riley is holding is half a dozen empty dime bags with a tire stamped on each one.
“Of course not. I don’t mess with this shit, but apparently, that guy does. This was his jacket. He bet the whole enchilada, helmet and all.”
“Yo, man, you need to ditch that shit. Empty or not.” Knight sounds alarmed in his drunken state.
“I plan to.”
“Smart idea.” Tammy frowns. “I heard that’s the stuff killin’ people off.”
“You know about this?” I ask Tammy, a little too interested.
“Just from what I hear around town. Supposedly, there’s a huge stash at some abandoned church somewhere.” She shrugs. “But it’s just hearsay.”
Abandoned church? In this area, that’s not uncommon.
There’s a bunch of dilapidated shacks littered all over the place. But itissomething. I pull out my phone from my pocket as casually as I can, not wanting to draw attention to what I’m doing. As Riley, Reese, Dev, and Knight converse about the newly-acquired bumble bee bike, and what to do with it, I nonchalantly snap a picture of the license plate. It’s not a great image, but you can make out the numbers and letters from the off angle.
I text my aunt:
Not sure if this is anything, but might want to look into it and any abandoned churches in the area. #Overdose
I attach the pic and hit send.
She’ll know what I’m getting at. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is explaining where the tip came from.
