Inside the Lotus, the cold war over the cupholder situation had become untenable; what had begun with some lighthearted jabs and whining about where to store Yessi’s drink had grown heated when Aleks refused to let her set her water bottle, dripping with condensation, onto the leather seat of her true love’s race car. That had sparked a fresh torrent of Hispanic sound and fury in his ear, more gripes about the Roadster, more blah blah blah. Finally, he had reached a compromise with her and stuck out the back of his hand, perfectly balanced, for Yessi to store her drink upon. The water rested perfectly within the contours of his tattoo like a rocket on its launch pad, at a perfect level for Yessi to grab and sip from at her leisure. Maybe it wasn’t as preferable as having the convenience of a cold drink gripped between her thighs, but if the petulant bitch kept this up she wouldn’t be squeezing Aleks with them either for a while. Besides, by now, he had demonstrated with a sniper’s precision that his hand was incapable of budging, even at this speeds. I am a fucking amazing cupholder.
Aleks had rolled the window down and crooked his left elbow on it, so that he could steer and feel the desert breeze on his bare forearm at the same time. It was not unseasonably hot yet, and the heat on his skin was still dry and comfortably arid. It also served to carry his voice out of the car, a barometer for the enjoyment he took from whatever particular song happened to be playing. Sometimes that was Gwen’s radio station; sometimes it was a mix from his own phone. The latter was currently on the docket.
I found blood, and I saw stars
“ALL IN THE BACK SEAT OF YOUR CAR!”
Aleks’ lilting accent had risen high, audibly straining to be heard over the music and the California wind buffeting the Lotus, crawling through his window, angrily mussing his hair with fifty-fingered tendrils; it blew away from his forehead in large tufts, the way that girls liked to push it away from his forehead.
He turned to Yessi.
And I told you it was love
“OHH, BUT YOU DON’T KNOW THE TRUTH!”
The Cold War kid winked at his best friend playfully, tilting his head away from the road and towards his passenger, so the wind couldn’t hurl his blown kiss from the window.
How could she ever be mad at such a polite boy?
I’m a young man, in my prime
“THAT’S FINE, BUT MY HEART’S STILL FILLED WITH FEAR!”
And it goes on clear!
The unusual quietness of a particular brat should have been a clear giveaway to the second most precious human being on the planet, that she was up to her usual antics.
The scrolling through the phone in her hands, that was obviously not her own, (as hers was protected by a custom case sporting a collage of pictures she had ‘stolen’ of Aleks), was easily going over Aleks’ head, between balancing her water bottle and battling the music coming from the speakers of the not Roadster with his off-key singing, he was perfectly occupied.
First thing on the agenda was to add a touch of Astraia to the device he always tried to keep her away from. How bold of him to put the most important person in his life as a simple “Yessi”
, lame, none of that shit. Those bitches that somehow managed to guilt him into their beds would know she was that bitch when they looked at his phone. Speaking of, his lock screen needed a little refresher…
With the first of two missions complete she turned her gears to the music selection, while she could not deny how much she adored seeing him like this, MGMT was sadly not on her list of road trip ‘bops’. A small smile found her lips as her thumb hovered over the theme song of her life, with a smooth motion she returned that kiss blown her way with a quick peck to his lips while switching the tunes of the car from the rock band to the current queen of pop.
“Yeah, breakfast at Tiffany's and bottles of bubbles.”
Well, he could take the thot out of the city, but...
Who the fuck was he kidding. Ariana was Ariana. God bless American pop princess number one!
This opened up a whole new trap, though. Yessi was known for her coordination and poise in almost any position, but if she was sitting upright in a vehicle and attempting to dance, Aleks had learned to avert his motherfucking eyes and keep his extremities to himself all the time, lest he wind up being Fabioed by a stray rich girl limb. With his arm outstretched and Yessi's water balancing on the delicate bones of the back of his hand, a veritable plastic house of cards, his eyes glazed over with all the possibilities of dashboards, t-shirts, jeans, all being soaked through with one stray elbow during that infectious fucking hook...Ah, shit. At least it's only water.
Unless she soaked his phone. Then she would be less Ari dancing in the car and more Pete, stranded on the fucking highway.
Stranded on the fucking highway?
He saw the familiar highlighter-colored Benz pull to the side of the road up ahead of him, parking on the shoulder in front of an absolutely blown-the-fuck-out recreational camper. The low, desperate wail of a banshee would have risen up from the throat of a lesser human, one perhaps less accustomed to the high maintenance cost of that messy pansexual tornado currently trouncing over to the RV. Whoever was in the driver's seat seemed less than enthused by AJ's charm offensive; yelling, AJ yelling back, more yelling, fourth verse was same as the first. Aleks had seen this show before.
The Mexican munchkin bouncing out of the RV and rolling up on AJ was an unforeseen variable. That wail threatened to well up in his chest; Aleks managed to crush it without a sound, although the effort it took would probably come back to give him a heart attack by the time he was 45. He heard the characteristic sound of a slap on one of AJ's pretty cheekbones. Ah, fuck.
He muttered his next curse in Russian. It was...worse than ah, fuck.
Unbuckling his seat belt and casting open the door, Aleks gently lowered the water bottle into the driver's seat, all fear of a moisture ring on the leather evaporating with the same ease that the condensation itself likely would. He slammed the door shut, Yessi and his phone and all of his concerns still sitting inside with the air running, and started advancing on the scene of the accident. The raised voices were about what he expected.“Your face looks busted as hell, I’d only make it worse. Like, man, if I had a face like yours, I’d fucking sue my parents.”Ah, no, no.”You’re dead, pendejo.”no no no pleaaaaaaaaaaaase
The sound of a low, soft whistle cut through the stifling desert air as Aleks approached, like the sound of a tea kettle slowly coming to boil; Aleks' long pianist's fingers were miming turning down the dial on a stove, attempting to relieve some of the pressure inside his friend's hot head before he wound up dehydrating himself. “--ove you, J. But damn, man: you really are a pain in the ass.”
The fingers on the dial outstretched and turned into a silent wave - before patting the midget on the head and ruffling her hair."Sssh. Please. You're all okay?"
the Russian asked softly, crossing his arms across his chest and reaching out with a foot.
He nudged the RV with a toe to see if it would do anything. More steam. He didn't need Chris for 'steam = bad.'