Page 38 of Saints & Sailors

“Gag,” Bonham said loudly. “Fucker probably has freckles on his balls.”

I smirked. “Nice to know you’re thinking about his balls.”

He eyed me fiercely. “Choose a side and stay there.”

I snorted as I sat back in my seat. “I’m using you to get laid.”

In the rearview mirror I caught a smile washing across Bonham’s face. “You’re my favorite kind of girl.”

He held his hand back toward me. “Pick your poison, sticks or stones?”

Pills or weed.

Pills weren’t my favorite. I was too afraid of becoming addicted, and worse, overdosing.

I chose the joint and he lit me up.

“Where to first?” I asked.

Bonham drank from a flask. “To Neverland.”

The night went on as I got faded in the back.

Soon, all my troubles disappeared as I was floating on clouds. There were no traitors. No more feeling pushed away. Only the euphoria the weed was bringing.

A little while later, Bug pulled into a parking lot that was packed with other vehicles outside of some large building.

Bonham climbed out immediately after Bug parked, and to my surprise, he opened the side door for me.

“Let’s set sail,” he announced.

A pun on my name. I’d heard them my whole life, but this one, this one I really liked.

I climbed out of the van and stretched my legs, being five-foot-ten meant a lifetime of having to stretch my legs after being in cramped places.

Around the parking lot, I spotted other groups of the local teens. Some were hanging out on the beds of trucks, open vans, or just standing. Smoke pilfered through the air, a deadly mix of nicotine and weed. Music played in the background, the head banging variety. These kids were mostly burnouts, getting smashed as they passed back bottles of liquor and filled red Solo cups in between smoking.

This was my type of scene.

And then I saw the sign.

“Bowling?” I questioned.

Bonham shrugged. “This is just a prerequisite. The alley’s not really supervised at night as you can see. We can get trashed here before trying a bar. I will warn you, some of the fascists won’t let you in.”

“So bowling?” I repeated.

Honestly, this seemed to be more of Cameron’s gig. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we bumped into the bubbly blonde inside the establishment.

Bonham finished my joint for me, taking it in and releasing a cool stream of smoke. “At least until Rick shows up.”

“Rick?”

Bug snickered. “Your boyfriend’s cousin, Deputy Rick St. Julien.”

Bonham shot two fingers at me. “Fuck the police.”

The law wasn’t fond of me either.