Bang
"Hurry!" Vince shouted, his chest heaving and his legs burning as he raced
down an alley.
"Jeep's on the right!" Stuart hollered from behind him.
Vince veered right and pelted toward the car at full speed. He fished the keys
out of his trouser pocket and pressed the button to automatically unlock the
doors. Jumping in, he gunned the engine and lurched forward before Stuart had
even closed the passenger side door.
"Ha!" Vince crowed while the three men who had been chasing them tried to keep
up on foot, shouting and cursing.
Stuart rolled down his window and stuck the whole upper half of his body out of
the car.
"Fuck off, you twats!" He gave them the middle finger, a gesture he'd become
very fond of during their trip, and pulled himself back into the car. His curly
hair was messy from the wind and running, and his blue jumper had a rip along
the neck from where one of those prats had grabbed him. He turned and grinned
wildly at Vince. "That was fantastic!"
"You're mental," Vince said, laughing despite the way his heart was trying to
hammer its way out of his chest. "I can't believe you did that."
"Me?" Stuart said, incredulous. "I'm not the one who stopped in the first
place."
Vince smirked. That was true, at least. All they'd been doing was walking down
the street holding hands when one of those men leered and grabbed himself,
calling to Vince, "Hey, fag! You like cock so much, why don't you try sucking
on this?" Before he could think about it, Vince was crossing the street and
confronting the laughing group with Stuart standing at his side.
"Yeah, but you didn't have to punch him," Vince said.
"What did you think was going to happen when you went over to them, Vince? A
nice chat and a cup of tea? Of course I had to punch him. Anyway, how was I
supposed to know he had a knife?"
"We're in Chicago! You're lucky that's all he had! We could both be lying dead
in that alley right now."
"Hmm...that's a good point," Stuart said, sounding thoughtful. "I should get a
gun."
"What?" Vince said, making a left into the hotel parking lot. "Oh, no."
"This is America, Vince!" Stuart cried, spreading his arms out wide, indicating
the whole country. "It's practically required."
"Do you know what would happen if you got caught carrying a gun? We'd be
deported for one. And what if you killed someone with it? They'd give you the
chair! That's how they do it over here." He parked the car and twisted his body
to face Stuart.
"Yeah, you're right."
"Stuart..." Vince said, eyeing him suspiciously.
"No, you're right," Stuart repeated. He smiled innocently at Vince and opened
his door.
"Fuck," Vince said and followed him out.