The Bad Boy and the Other Bad Boy

Chapter 4

I blew a puff of smoke into the air as I rubbed my hands together gingerly, cigarette hooked under my index finger, as I waited for Ryan. I squinted up at the sky, sitting astride my bike, and took another pull. 

A few moments later, I heard Ryan's bike roar up behind me. 

"Took you long enough, " I said as he took off his helmet. 

"I had to eat, dude. You probably don't know what that word means but it's when you put nourishing stuff in your mouth so you can survive and be nourished. "

I grimaced. "Yeah, I know I haven't been eating well. "

Ryan gave me a once over. "I can tell. " 

I shoved him. "Shut up dude, I'm massive! " I flexed to prove it. 

Ryan paused for a moment. "Denver's bigger. " He jumped back, out of reach of the second punch I aimed at him, then ran away. 

 I frowned. Although I did have muscles, I couldn't deny Denver was more ripped than me. Probably cos he spent all his time in gyms for pussies or something. At least I was a bit taller than that little shit. 

I caught up with Ryan, instinctually placing an expressionless mask over my face. Glancing at Ryan, I saw he had done the same, smoothing over his features and hardening his jaw as we rounded the large grey building to the back door. The place reeked - it honestly smelt like shit each time we came. It looked like shit too, the concrete walls were bare - if there was paint, it was peeling like dead skin. I fought the urge to cover my nose. We climbed the stairs to the crusty looking back door. 

Ryan knocked firmly, once, twice. 

I swallowed my apprehension and leaned against the wall. 

The door swung open to reveal a skinny dude with stringy hair down to his shoulders. A yellow tank which once might of been white covered his grubby torso. He wore baggy jeans that were too big for him - they didn't look like he'd taken them off for years.  A wave of his B.O washed over me and I held my breath. Without looking down, I could see the gun tucked into his pocket.

His small eyes regarded us from his greasy face. 

"Got the stuff, mate? " I asked loudly and slowly. Show them you're scared and you're dead. There were no such things as security cameras in this part of town. 

Another greasy dude appeared from behind him and stuck out a crumpled brown paper bag. 

Ryan took it from him and peered inside. "If it's not legit they'll come for you. " He growled. 

The first dude grinned, showing blackened teeth. "You little fuckers. It's fucking legit." 

Ryan met his eyes, pulling out the cash and counting it slowly in front of them. He pressed it into Yellow Tank Top's waiting hand. 

"So how's the old King Cobra going? " The second dude greased his way to stand beside Yellow in the doorway. 

"He's just lovely. " I muttered, backing down the stairs. 

I followed Ryan around the side of the building, the two men watching us the whole way. 

---

The Basque's neon lettering glared in the dark, electronic music pulsing from inside.

I weaved between the cars, Ryan close behind. We flashed fake IDs at the bouncer - and then we were in.

Bodies writhed and twisted to the music - which was suddenly loud. Ryan and I made our way through the crowd where Greg, the barman, was serving drinks.