by Baron Sord
I shook my head, “You don’t need half, that’s for sure.”
“I’m saving my other quarter for tomorrow,” he whined.
“Does tomorrow start at 12:01am?”
“No,” he said guiltily.
“Yeah, right.” I knew better. He’d eat it all now if I didn’t. I said, “If you’re going to be running around with me, maybe you should think about eating less cake and more healthy food.” Arnold really was unhealthily over weight. “You know what? Yeah, if you want to be my sidekick, no more junk food until you lose fifty pounds.”
“No way,” he chuckled. “I’ll die without junk food.”
“No, you’ll live longer. No more junk food. I’m serious.”
He scowled, “Dude, don’t be a freaking dictator.”
I smirked, “What if you need to dodge bullets? Or run a mile to save my life? Or someone else’s? Can you run a mile?”
“No,” he grumbled.
I was pretty sure he couldn’t run a single lap around a track without taking the bus. “That’s the deal, Arn. No more junk food. If you want to live a life of high adventure, you have to be in shape to do so.”
“Dude, you suck.”
“That’s the deal.”
“I already ordered the vest and the mask. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. Cut out junk food or stay home and play Call of Duty or Fortnite.” Still hungry, I used my fork to lift another bite of cake to my mouth.
Arnold scowled, “How come you get cake?”
“No, you’re right.” I put the fork down, stood up, and dumped the rest of the cake in the trash.
“No!” he whimpered. “You’re wasting good cake!”
“What pansy-ass sidekick do you know who whines when he doesn’t get cake?”
“This one,” he chortled.
“Get used to it,” I grinned.
—: Chapter 6 :—
While Doug and Arnold were arguing over cake, Kristy Crawford drove her Audi onto Pacific Street in Oceanside to look for parking.
Kristy totally loved living a block from the ocean.
Downside, parking was terrible. Her building only had two two-car garages out back in the alley, but like nine units. You had to pay extra to get a garage space. Kristy never had extra, so she had to search for street parking every time she came home.
She was not in the mood for searching.
After an insane day of selling Lady Liberty comics at the convention, Kristy couldn’t wait to crash. Saturdays at San Diego Comic Con were always the craziest. So many people came out. That was good for sales, but it also meant Kristy’d talked nonstop for 8 hours.
Literally nonstop.
Then after, it’d been going networking with Jeff Strickland, the editor of Crash Comics who published the Lady Liberty comic. Her and Jeff’d had drinks downtown with a bunch of other comic pros and big-name editors at the Gaslamp Strip Club, ha ha. They weren’t an actual strip club like Flashbacks. They were a steak restaurant where you cooked your own steak. Kristy’d barely cooked hers because she’d been starving. Anyway, that’d meant 2 more hours of nonstop talking at the restaurant.
Now that Kristy was home, but still searching for parking, she was ready to not say a word to another person until the show started tomorrow morning. Except the pizza guy, who was already on his way. Before leaving downtown, Kristy’d ordered pizzas from Knockout Pizza on her phone. Ever since getting her powers yesterday, she was crazy hungry constantly. She hoped the two large pizzas she’d ordered would be enough to fill her up for tonight and for breakfast before the Con tomorrow morning.
On the street a block down and around the corner from her building, Kristy found a space and parked her Audi next to a tall palm tree growing from the grass strip on the sidewalk. Got out of her car, grabbed her big bag, and started walking back toward her building.
The pizza delivery guy should be driving up any minute, if he wasn’t here already.
Near her building, Kristy saw a Harley Davidson parked between two cars on the street.
Ignored it because there were Harley’s all over Oceanside.
She couldn’t wait to get out of her costume, which she still wore under a zipped-up hoodie and yoga pants. She didn’t exactly want her neighbors knowing she was Lady Liberty because it was kind of dorky. None of them even knew she was into comics or did her own comic. She never told anybody.
Kristy wasn’t wearing her masquerade mask either. She’d removed it before leaving downtown. It’d been falling off at the steak house because the spirit gum was wearing out. Tonight before bed, she needed to clean up the mask, and wash her costume and hang dry it in her bathroom, or else it’d stink tomorrow. She’d been washing it every night after the Con, but today’d been the worst because of the insane crowds. The main hall’s air-conditioning couldn’t keep up and it’d been an oven.
Her keys jingled in her hand as she hopped up the steps to her building. The walkway led between two one-story buildings. Three units on the left, three on the right. At the end was a two-story building with three units on the top. Underneath those were the backs of the garages that faced the alley. Kristy’s one-bedroom apartment was up the stairs on the left. She had a great view of the ocean from her balcony, except for the huge luxury apartment building in the way. But she could still sort of see the waves through the cracks.
Somebody shadowy was standing on the balcony waiting at her front door.
The pizza guy.
Thank goodness.
Kristy reached into her bag to dig for money as she walked up the staircase. Hadn’t found any by the time she reached the balcony. Still digging for money and without looking up, she stepped toward the pizza guy and said, “It’s fifty for both pizzas, right?”
“Hey, babe.”
Kristy looked up and grimaced.
It wasn’t the pizza guy.
It was her ass balloon of an ex, Crocky effing Brock. He wore his customary uniform of wife-beater tank-tee, jeans, and boots. Asshat tattoos criss-crossed his muscled arms and chest.
“What’re you doing here?” Kristy scowled.
“I brought flowers.” Brock held up a bouquet of roses.
“No,” Kristy said with finality. “Just, no.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a sincere smile.
“Sorry?!” Kristy blurted. “You hit me, Brock! In the eye! On purpose! And you called me the C-word! Also on purpose!”
“It was an accident,” he frowned.
“No it wasn’t! Dropping your phone in the toilet is an accident! Hitting someone in the face is not an effing accident!”
“It was,” he insisted with a hint of anger.
Kristy’s K-Cray temper wasn’t having any of his lame excuses. K-Cray took over and barked, “No it wasn’t! The accident was me not dropping you in the toilet sooner than I did! Now get out of here!” Kristy pushed past him, heading toward her front door.
“Was it an accident when you hit me back?” Brock said sincerely.
“Ugh! I hit you because you hit me! I never would have if you hadn’t!” The incident had happened yesterday, but to K-Cray, it seemed like five minutes ago.
“It’s totally cool you did,” Brock said.
Kristy jumped in, cutting off K-Cray, and said, “No it’s not! Nobody should ever hit anybody! I shouldn’t’ve hit you, and you definitely shouldn’t’ve hit me! I’m a woman, Brock! You’re ten times bigger than me! And my face is my job! I can’t work with a black eye!”
“Do you have one?”
She scowled, “You mean, did you give me one?!”
“Yeah,” he muttered sheepishly.
“No! That’s not the point! The point is you hit me! What the eff were you thinking?!”
“That I love you,” he muttered.
“No you don’t!” she snorted in disgust. “I’d never hit anything I love! Ever! That’s the only reason I hit you!”
“Wait… because you love me?”
“No! Because
I hate you! Get out of here, Brock! Go away! I don’t ever wanna see you again!”
The front door of the apartment next to Kristy’s opened inward. The screen door opened outward, and her cute surfer neighbor Wade stuck his head out. He wore only boxers. Wade had a killer body that was toned and tanned from surfing 7 days a week, but he was half Brock’s size. Wade also had a crush on Kristy, but they’d never hooked up. Wade was nice enough, but too surfy for her tastes. He didn’t read anything that wasn’t surfing related, so no comics. Wade also knew Brock because Kristy’d been dumb enough to date Brock for six months, and Brock’d been here plenty of times. Brock didn’t like Wade because Brock was jealous of anyone who wasn’t Brock.
Brock snarled, “The fuck you want, Wade?”
Wade said. “People are sleeping, bro. Maybe tone it down a notch?”
“Fuck off, Wade. This is between me and Kristy.”
Undeterred, Wade smirked, “Will you relax, bro? I’m not the only one here trying to sleep.”
“How about I relax my fist in your face?” Brock smirked.
Wade sighed, unsure what to say. They both knew Brock could kick Wade’s ass easy.
Just then, the pizza guy jogged up the stairs holding the blue hot box like a waiter.
“Thank goodness,” Kristy said. “Those are mine.”
“Two large all-meat pies, right?” Pizza Guy said.
“Yup,” Kristy smiled. She drooled at the thought of sinking her teeth into hot crisp dough, tomato sauce, pepperonis, sausage, and stringy melted cheese.
“How much?” Brock asked.
“Forty-nine ninety-eight,” Pizza Guy said.
Brock pulled his wallet out by the chain attached to his leather belt.
Kristy snatched his wallet from his hand and yanked it, intending to throw it over the balcony railing. The chain stopped her short.
“Nice try,” Brock smirked.
K-Cray hated that smirk. She yanked super-powered hard on the wallet, snapping the chain off the leather belt loop. The force of it pulled Brock tripping sideways onto his hands and knees.
K-Cray threw the wallet spinning out in the air so far it flew past the length of the downstairs units, between the palm trees on the sidewalk, and landed on the street. She imagined the football referees holding up their arms, “The kick is good!”
“Hey!” Brock scowled. “What’d you do that for?!”
Kristy growled, “Because I told you to leave and you didn’t.”
Wade snickered to himself.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, WADE!” Brock shouted and jumped to his feet.
Wade grinned, “I didn’t say anything.”
Kristy handed three twenties to the Pizza Guy. “That should cover it. Keep the change.” When you worked for tips yourself, you always tipped big, no matter who it was.
“Thanks,” Pizza Guy smiled.
“THE FUCK YOU DIDN’T!” Brock roared at Wade.
Pizza Guy cringed.
“Don’t mind him,” Kristy said to Pizza Guy.
Pizza Guy took one look at the brewing fight and hastily pulled the two large pizzas out of his soft blue hot box to hand them over. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Kristy said, taking them.
“SAY IT TO MY FACE!” Brock shouted at Wade.
“Say what, bro? I didn’t say anything,” Wade said.
Pizza Guy made a hasty exit, ducking past Brock and trotting down the stairs.
Kristy hollered at Pizza Guy, “Hey! You can have Brock’s wallet if you want! He won’t miss it!”
Brock whipped around and glared at Kristy.
She arched a smirky eyebrow.
Brock grimaced and shouted at Pizza Guy, “IF YOU TOUCH MY WALLET, I’LL KICK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!”
Kristy laughed and hollered at Pizza Guy, “Don’t worry! If he tries anything, I’ll kick his ass first!”
“Fuck you,” Brock hissed at Kristy. “That’s my fucking wallet.”
“Then go get it,” Kristy grinned.
Brock glared at her.
In the distance, Pizza Guy trotted down the front steps to the sidewalk and turned to the right, smartly leaving Brock’s wallet where it was before he disappeared.
A car door closed, an engine started, and Pizza Guy’s car sped by with the Knockout Pizza light glowing on top. The car drove right over Brock’s wallet.
“Asshole drove over my wallet!” Brock grumbled.
“I told you to go get it,” Kristy giggled.
“Fuck my wallet,” Brock growled and turned to Kristy, holding up the bouquet. “I came here for you.”
Kristy scowled at the bouquet.
Wade said, “She wants you to leave, bro.”
Brock spun on him, threw the bouquet in his face to distract him, rushed him, and shoved him backward hard.
Wade went flying into his open screen door with a bang. On impact, his arm accidentally tore through the screen and his body bent the aluminum door back on its hinges before he continued his fall, spinning around and landing on the deck chair behind the door and knocking it over with a noisy clatter.
“BROCK!” Kristy barked. “STOP RUINING EVERYTHING!”
“I’m gonna ruin him,” Brock growled and charged Wade.
Wade was fast and already on his feet. He leapt back, his hands up and ready to fight. Too bad he really was half Brock’s size.
Brock sneered, “You always wanted to fuck my girlfriend, didn’t you, Wade?”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Kristy muttered behind Brock.
Brock didn’t hear. He growled at Wade, “I can see it every time you look at her.”
Kristy knew that was true, Wade did like her, but Brock was missing the point. She set the pizzas down in front of her door and hoped to God nobody stepped on them in the next ten seconds. If they did, heads would roll.
Brock loomed toward Wade and said, “Now I’m gonna fuck you, Wade. I’m gonna beat the fuck out of you. Then I’m gonna fuck you like a little bitch. Fuck you until you love me, Wade.”
Wade was horrified by the idea, but he tried to hide it.
Brock surged forward aggressively.
Wade yelped and shuffled back.
Brock chuckled, “How about I fuck you, then beat you. Then fuck you again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Wade? Like my big man dick up your pussy asshole?”
“It’s not that big,” Kristy snorted quietly.
Again, Brock didn’t hear. He grunted, “You want that, don’t you Wade?”
“I don’t,” Kristy sighed. “And neither does Wade.” She planted her boot behind Brock’s leg, grabbed him by the belt from behind, and hauled him gracefully around 180 degrees.
Brock tripped over her booted leg and went sliding across the balcony.
Kristy threw him so hard, he BOOMED! against the wall at the end of the balcony, shaking the entire building.
Brock must’ve hit head first, because he groaned groggily and laid there.
“Aw, did you hit your widdle head?” Kristy squatted beside him on her boots and folded her arms over her knees. “I think I see birds chirping.” Kristy stood and grabbed Brock by the boots and dragged him on his stomach scraping across the balcony toward the stairs.
Wade couldn’t believe his eyes. “How did you…?”
Kristy smiled, “How did I what? I didn’t do anything. Did you?”
“Nah,” Wade laughed, getting the memo.
Kristy dragged Brock down the staircase, stepping down backward, still pulling Brock by the boots. His arms flopped out over his head and his face smacked down each concrete step with a satisfying whack.
When Kristy got to the bottom, some of her sleepy neighbors were sticking their heads out of their front doors. Being that it was a small building of nine units, everybody knew everybody. Everybody also knew what an asshole Brock was. This wasn’t his first noisy scene or annoying fight with Kristy here at the building.
“Don’t worry,” Kristy said as she pass
ed old Mrs. Brewer, “it’s just Brock.”
Mrs. Brewer knew all about the Brock drama. She’d had to endure six months of it. She smirked, “The trash is out back.”
Kristy laughed, “I thought of that, but I didn’t wanna get our dumpster dirty.”
“No,” Mrs. Brewer grinned. “Don’t do that.”
Kristy continued dragging Brock past her front door.
Mrs. Brewer snorted, “Try the sewer. That’s where he belongs.”
“Totally,” Kristy laughed.
She dragged Brock down to the sidewalk and over to his Harley. Of course it’d been his all along. His Skid Lid was sitting on the seat. She just hadn’t wanted to see it. She set the helmet on the gas tank, then draped him over the seat so his arms hung over the other side.
Saw his wallet in the middle of the street.
Went to get it.
Wade stood on the sidewalk. He said, “You good?”
“I’m good,” Kristy smiled. “You should go back inside and sleep.”
“Yeah. Hey, that was badass. Was that Aikido or something?”
“No, it was Throw-Brock-O,” Kristy giggled.
“Nice,” Wade said.
Kristy squatted down to pick up Brock’s wallet. She winked at Wade, “You want this?”
“Seriously?” Wade snickered.
“No,” she giggled. “Kidding.”
She walked back to Brock. Stuffed his wallet in his jeans. Walked around his Harley and squatted down by his face. Lifted up his head by the chin.
Brock’s eyes were half shut. Drool dangled from the corner of his mouth. He frowned and snorted sleepily, “Wha happah?”
“You tripped,” Kristy said and gently lowered his chin.
“What?” Brock shock it off and shifted his weight back, sliding off the seat and lowering himself onto his boots. His muscled arms still hung across the Harley’s seat. Brock lifted his head and cringed, “My fucking head. The fuck happened?” His eyes fluttered and he looked at Kristy. “Kristy? What’re you doing here?”
“We’re at my place. You can’t ride like this. Do you wanna ride home?”
“I can ride,” Brock spat. Stood up. Staggered back a step, arms flailing. Sat down on the hood of the car parallel parked beside his Harley and shook it off. He was still groggy.
