Kingsman: The Devil's Gamble

Chapter Two

Whiskey and I managed to settle the playful argument rather quickly, like we always do. I settled for being the "passenger princess" and the navigation expert, while Whiskey chose to drive along the long, winding roads back home. I was definitely anticipating going back home and seeing my family. The family I hadn't seen for nearly a year, since my big brother's wedding to Mia.

Andrew and Mia had been dating since college, having met at one of the local bars that were rampant with of-age students on the weekends. He caught a glance from her across the room...and history was made from there. They dated for about four years, then got engaged around the time I started my job at the Statesman. A year after that, they got married...and Whiskey and I had the pleasure of going to their wedding.

Of course, we had to leave not too long after Whiskey slipped the garter onto my leg—because Balor had somehow pinged our location, and we had to migrate before he killed more people than he did already—but at least Whiskey and I got to send our well-wishes to my big brother and his new girl before we had to take off.

Whilst we cruised down the backroads, Whiskey decided to take over the radio, which I didn't mind. I considered it a nice change to hear his taste in music for once. Elvis Presley...that's what he played. Sure, I've heard snippets of his music, but I'm not too familiar with all his tunes.

"You know, I never heard this song before," I commented as Blue Suede Shoes played through the truck's radio.

Without taking one of his hands off of the gear shift, Whiskey quickly glanced over to me and then back onto the road ahead. "You haven't heard of Elvis before?"

"Not all his tunes," I replied. "I only know the ones that hit it big. Jailhouse Rock, Heartbreak Hotel...songs like that."

"Oh, those are good too, sugar," he added, pointing to the radio as the song continued to play, "but this—this one has to be my favorite."

He paused for a second, shifting his hand from the gear shift to my thigh. "Speaking of which, I haven't heard your favorite song in a while. What was it—Goodbye Yellow Brick Road?"

"Please, Whiskey. You already know that one," I said, "but I do have another favorite."

One of his eyebrows hooked upward. "Really? Which one is that?"

"Let me show you," I responded, turning the radio to a different station that played popular songs from the eighties and nineties.

After one of the songs wrapped up, my favorite song—other than Goodbye Yellow Brick Road—started to play. It shocked me when I saw Whiskey bobbing his head to the beat of the song, and it made me happy to know that he was actually sharing a mutual interest in this song and liking it as much as I do.

"You like Tupac?" he asked confusedly.

I shrugged. "Only this song. California Love...it's one of my favorite bops—Wait a minute. How the hell do you know Tupac?"

"I know this song. I know it's a toe-tappin' song," he answered. "Keep in mind, sugar. I know more about Tupac than you think."

We continued to jam out to the song and have a good time. I even decided to rap along to some of the verses, and Whiskey was quite impressed with it. He didn't know that I could wrap. Well...I could only wrap for certain songs. And I could only rap if I was pumped up enough to do it.

"Damn, sugar. You impress me with somethin' new everyday," he commented.

I shrugged. "I always try my best, don't I?"

With only about a half tank of gas, Whiskey turned the truck onto a long, winding back road. One that had loose dirt. My favorite kind of back road. Whenever we drove along this road, a good amount of dust and dirt kicked up on the land behind us. It brought me back to the good ol' country-esque days I used to live in. The good ol' days, according to my daddy.