Page 138 of Healed

Sunshine scowled at him over his shoulder, but then turned back to focus on the food. The second he did so, Vienna leaned forward, reached around and put something on top of the meat.

“What was that?” Sunshine hissed.

“What was what?”

“What did you just put on the burgers?”

“I took a step backwards, Sunshine. I didn’t touch your precious burger. I’m not Stretch Armstrong.”

“You’re a pain in the bastard ass.”

“That’s harsh. You’re so mean. And suspicious. Why are you always so suspicious, Sunshine? Why?”

“I fucking saw you, lad!”

“This place is very busy today. Maybe it was the dust from the floor that you saw. Do you want me to schedule you an eye test?”

“You’ll be dust on the floor if you carry on.”

Shaking my head at them, I decided to leave them to it and mingle with some of the other guests.

“Heads up!” a young lad shouted, and I just about managed to catch a ball before it hit me. “Hey, nice catch.”

“I grew up with a brother with a fierce kick. I’m used to dodging attacks.”

“It wasn’t aimed at you, I promise.”

I laughed at him. “Don’t worry about it. Who were you aiming at?”

“What have I told you about kicking that fucking ball like a maniac?” Ant hissed, seizing the teenager by his leather cut.

Ahh. A Descendent.

“Uncle Anthony, you know it was an accident,” the boy protested, his tongue in his cheek.

“Fuck off with that name.”

“Sorry, Tony.”

“And that one.”

“Sorry, Toto.”

“Fuck off in general,” Ant snapped, pushing the lad away. “Don’t you have something better to do than be a terrorist?”

“Your words cut me. I thought you were my uncle.”

“I’ll be your fucking murderer if you don’t git,” he warned.

The teenager grabbed the ball off me and went running in the opposite direction.

“Teenagers, eh?”

“You’ve no idea. I—” his words were cut off as the ball smacked him in his head. I bit my lip to smother my laughs as he bent down to retrieve it, and I caught the words, “sorry To-To, the ball isn’t in Kansas anymore,” written on it.

“Right, you little shits,” Ant huffed, marching over to the group of lads who scattered when they saw the large, angry biker raging towards them.

“They’re going to be a handful,” Rachel said, appearing at my side and handing me a beer.