XLVI. A Prince, Not a Saint
I look at him.
He looks at me.
“Look at each other any longer, and I think you may have a closet thing going on,” Ahmend said.
Our glares return.
“Get a room,” Ahmend commented.
We roll our eyes. “I’d rather die,” we said.
Ahmend stifles a laugh, “Why don’t we just skip the whole cat-and-mouse game. Go on, make out.”
I turn my head towards the window and ignore Ahmend’s comment. The more you respond, the more you fuel his idiocy.
I can see his reflection, which irritates me more.
His leg touched mine.
“Mind moving over?” I spat out.
“Only when you stop leering at me.”
I scoff, “Leering? At your bitch ass face?”
He lifts a brow, “Oh. My bad. You were looking at yourself this whole time.”
I grab his shirt and pull him inward, “You-”
“Woah. Woah. Woah. No blood in my new car,” Ahmend said. “Now, let go of him, or else I’ll pull this car over.”
I release his shirt.
Ahmend looks at the rearview mirror. “Tyson. Why don’t you change seats with Ricardo?”
Tyson pokes his head out from behind Ricardo’s steroids, inflamed body. He looks at me, then Ricardo, and back towards me. “Pass.”
Among the bickers of, who want to sit where and with whom, blue and red sirens made their appearance.
“Shit,” Ahmend said.
The police officer got out of his car and made his way towards us. Ahmend rolls down the window and smiles widely, “Good day, officer. How can I help you?”
The officer turns his head slightly to inspect the inside of the vehicle but couldn’t. He chews the gum in his mouth, “Did you realize how fast you were going, son? 120 in a 60.”
Ahmend’s eyes widened, “Was I? My apologies, it won’t be happening again.”
I’m certain the officer is rolling his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, “License and registration.”
Ahmend exhaled, “I’m certain we can work something out, officer.”
“License and registration.”
Ahmend groans slightly before popping the glove compartment for the registration. He took out his wallet and slipped out his license along with five hundred dollars. He hands everything to the police officer.
I slap his arm, “Ow!” He said, rubbing his arm slightly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask.
“Bribing,” he stated. “I can’t get another strike on my record. My mummy is up in my ass for the first two.”
“And you think she will be okay when she finds out you bribe a police officer?”
“She will...if she doesn’t know.” He turns around and points a stern finger at me. “Don’t you pull out the goody two shoes and tattle.”
“You’re a prince.”
“I’m a prince, not a saint.”
“You-” I stopped talking when the officer came back.
He rests against the window with Ahmend’s reflection against the frame. Steadily, his lip forms a small smirk, and he hands Ahmend the license and registration. “Drive slower from now on.”
Ahmend took the stuff and smiled, “Thank you.” He put away his stuff. On the way, he glances at me and smirks.
I don’t have a good feeling towards that smirk. I never liked police officers. Then again, it’s engraved into our minds that law enforcers aren’t particularly positive reinforcers.
When he left, we all exhaled, and Ahmend resumed his drive.
Then I saw it.
The lake house.
Ahmend parks the car out front and blows out a whistle, “Not bad, Greyson. Yours?”
I open the car door, “Na. My mom. Dad got it for her for one of their anniversaries. They don’t use it anymore.”
Everyone got out of the car. Some unloading. Others were exploring the area.
“I must say-” Tyson pat my shoulder, “Your dad got good taste.”
I swung the bag over my other shoulder, “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
He shrugs, “Did some thinking. You’re right.”
“Right about what?” Ahmend asks.
“I’m not gay.”
Ahmend nods, “I believe it.”
“You’re bisexual at the most. Gay? I don’t think so.”
“What the fuck do you know? You’re straight,” Tyson rebuttal.
When the trunk pops, I grab the fishing rod. My eyes cast towards Ricardo, who stared at anything and everything. “Hey,” I said. He turns around, “Mind helping out?”
He looks at the stuff loaded in the back, “I didn’t come here for fishing,” he said before walking away.
“Fucking-” I inhale a deep breath to calm myself down.
The lake house was two-story, beside a few others. Far enough where you can have privacy, but close enough where your neighbors are there to help if something happened.
Tyson blows out a whistle when we enter the house, “Wow! What in the world did your dad think when he purchased this place?”
“His mom’s pussy,” Ahmend said.
Everyone cracks in laughter.
I threw the stuff down, “I told you. He got it for their anniversary.”
“Okay.” Ahmend walked towards the chimney. “Eh, Greyson. How many brothers do you have again?”
I threw a pillow at him.
Instantly he dodges it.
“I call dibs on the master’s bedroom,” Tyson screams.
“We aren’t staying here overnight,” I said.
Tyson’s head poke out from the railing, “Why not? It’s nice here.”
“Because Hay Bug is lonely. Right? Joshie P-P-Pooh,” Ahmend said mockingly while batting his lashes.
“You know. If you don’t talk, no one would say you’re deaf.”
“Where’s Mason?” Tyson asks.
I look around the room. “Huh. Where is he?”
I look at Ricardo.
“I don’t fucking know.”
I look at Ahmend.
He shrugs, “I don-” his eyes widen, “Holy fuck! We left him at the gas station.”
After we got Mason, who was heavily sulking, we went back to the lakehouse.
“You all left me,” Mason said.
“Ahmend left you,” Tyson clarifies before opening a chair.
“In my defense-” Ahmend sat on a lawn chair, “I wouldn’t be so forgetful if Josh and Ricardo weren’t bickering the whole time.”
“You were sitting next to him,” I said.
“Well, if Mason talks more-” I smack Ahmend’s head and give him a good glare.
Mason sat on the edge of the board and continued pouting.
“Sorry,” I said. “We won’t leave you next time-” I search inside the bag, “Chocolate?”
“That’s my choco-” I hit Ahmend’s head again.
Mason looks at me and grabs the chocolate. Silently, he munches on the bar. I smile and mess up his hair.
Tyson grunts and casts his rod.
“We’re fishing. Why are you sweating?” I ask.
“Casting a rod is a lot harder than it seems.” He pulls the rod back and casts it again.
Ahmend looks at me, “Do you want to tell him that you only need to cast it once or me?”
I look at Tyson, “Nah. He’ll figure it out, eventually.”
“Hard to believe the guy grew up with two dads.”
I took a sip out of the can of soda, “His dads aren’t really into fishing.”
Ahmend pushes up his sunglasses, “How do you know?”
“Our families went fishing together once. Not pretty.”
We watch Tyson continuously cast the rods. It got stuck in a tree branch. It caught a can. Finally, when he cast it into the water, it got stuck in a pile of branches.
A shadow cast over us.
I groan, “What?”
“I thought you were going to tutor me,” Ricardo said.
“Can’t we do it after I catch one fish?”
“Then we’re never going to study.”
Ahmend pat a chair, “Dude. You need to learn how to chill. Put those books down and-”
Ricardo glares at him.
Ahmend clears his throat and looks at me. “You better tutor the dude before he murders everyone here.”
I set the soda down, “Fine. Sit down.” I put out my hand, and he smacks a book on it. I grunt slightly before opening the pages.
Then the lecture starts.