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There wasn’t much he could do. Sure, his mind was quickly laying out scenario after scenario of how he could disarm Perry. But the table was in the way. He had no real way of reaching him. And if he lunged and missed, someone else might get hurt. Someone else might get shot. He couldn’t have that. So he tried a different tack.
“Hey… Hey…” he said calmly while raising his hands. “Be cool. You don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Perry just smiled and said, “I told you this insult would not stand.”
Then he pulled the trigger.
Romeo heard the shot. It echoed in his ears. But something about it was off. It was unlike any gun shot he’d ever heard before. It wasn’t as loud as it should be, and it had more of a hiss and less of a bang than he had expected. He couldn’t worry about that now though. All he could do was wait for the impact. Wait and think while time stood still. And what he thought about in those last few micro fractional milliseconds between when Perry pulled the trigger and the bullet hit his chest, surprised the hell out of him.
In those last few moments before he got hit. In those precious few moments before he thought, before he knew, his life was about to end. When his mind was supposed to flash his whole life before his eyes. The only thing he saw, the only thing he thought about, was her.
Then he felt the impact. Right in the center of his chest. A deep thud. Like a solid punch. But something about it was off too. It hurt, for sure, but not as much as he thought getting shot in the chest would hurt. He put his hand to his heart and felt around. No hole. He pulled his hand back and looked at his fingers. They were red, but it wasn’t blood.
It was the wrong color. More Mo
roccan Red than blood red. It was also tackier than blood. Not tackier as in lacking a certain style or tasteless. Tackier as in stickier. It wasn’t blood at all. It was paint. Perry had shot him with a paint ball gun. A looks unbelievably, precisely, exactly real enough to scare the skirt off the old lady standing next to him paint ball gun. Specifically a Goblin Solo Single Barrel Derringer Style Paintball Pistol.
“Dude! What is your problem?!”
“I told you this insult would not stand,” Perry said matter of factly, with a smug smile on his face. Then he continued. “And the next time…”
But he didn’t finish. The next sound anyone heard wasn’t Perry talking. It was the snap of bones breaking. It was the crack of Perry’s clavicle and the shattering of his sternum as he got brutally flattened by Officer Cole and his partner.
They had been running flat out across the field at full speed for the last eight or nine seconds and when they hit Perry, they hit him hard. Instantly breaking two of his ribs and crushing him to the ground as they tackled him with their combined four hundred pounds of solid muscle and gear.
Seconds later they had him up and cuffed and were hauling him out of the party to the thankful applause of the guests and the professional gratitude of the Mayor,
“Thank you boys,” he said as they dragged Perry past him. “Excellent work. Excellent.” Then the Mayor turned to the crowd and addressed them. “Well,” he said, trying to make light of the situation. “That ends the entertainment portion of the evening.”
There were a few awkward chuckles and polite smiles from the crowd. A couple of couples decided that enough was enough and headed home for the evening. But once the band started back up, kicking it hard with “Boogie Wonderland,” and the drinks began flowing again, it was almost as if nothing eventful had even happened. Save for some fresh dinner conversation, the night continued on pretty much the same way it had been before the incident. Except for Romeo.
Romeo walked silently out of the stand, away from the concerned crowd that had formed around him. Away from his parents who were both on the verge of tears after getting the full details of the trouble. His mother thanking God hysterically over and over again. Wailing at the top of her lungs, between the sloppy wet kisses she laid upon his cheeks.
He found himself a quiet corner, away from the drama and took stock. He was okay. He knew that. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his racing heart was starting to subside and he was beginning to calm down. He looked out over the lake. He strained to see her, to get a glimpse, but he was too far away. He promised himself that when she was back on shore he would give it one more shot. Perry was right about one thing, he thought. Life was too short.
48
Out on the lake Patrick’s right oar silently slipped into the water. Then his left. He had been rowing the girls aimlessly around the lake, trying to get them to come around. But at this point, neither one of them were talking to him.
“Really?” he said.
Nothing. Just cold hard stares.
“It’s a beautiful night.”
Dagger eyes.
“I don’t see what you’re both so upset about. It’s a party. There’s always food at a party. I don’t see anything wrong with the three of us making a little sandwich back at my place.” He said the word sandwich as salaciously as possible.
“Take us back,” demanded Ant.
“Not yet,” Patrick said with an insufferable smile. He was enjoying being the bad guy.
“I can’t believe I ever liked you,” said Nikki.
“But you did,” he said obnoxiously. “You really really did.”
Tyler saw the flashing red lights coming up out of the party. They belonged to Officer Cole’s cruiser. He was escorting Perry back to the precinct. Perry was in a whole heap of trouble.
