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“Made bond,” Rosie replied, an “O” of ice cream coating his lips (if I had to guess, by the looks of it, rocky road).
“Who paid your bond?” Ally asked, also on her feet.
“Our fairy godmother?” The Kevster responded, and it was a question.
I looked at Ally then back at The Kevster. “You don’t know who paid your bond?”
“Should we?” The Kevster looked confused, or, more confused than usual.
I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.
“Is that even possible?” Ally was talking to Willie.
“Did you read the papers?” Willie didn’t respond to Ally. He was looking at the two grunge muffins and their ice cream cones, and he didn’t seem happy.
“Papers?” This was clearly more than The Kevster could process.
Before we could continue this useless conversation, a black BMW with shaded windows came to a screeching halt on 13thAvenue. It didn’t park. It stopped in one of the three through lanes.
“Oh shit,” Ally said, eyes on the BMW.
“Get to the car,” Willie ordered, all relaxation gone.
Before we could make a move, Goon Gary and The Moron were headed our way.
“Get to the car,” Willie repeated.
For some reason, everyone stood stock-still.
“Dudes,” The Kevster greeted Goon Gary and The Moron as they approached, obviously not knowing who they were, and also not feeling the tense vibe electrifying the air.
Rosie had gone pale and his ice cream cone was melting down his hand.
Goon Gary and The Moron ignored us, their eyes on Willie.
Willie pushed me behind him.
“You know who I am?” Willie asked Gary and The Moron.
The Moron nodded slowly. Gary didn’t respond.
“Then you’ll walk away,” Willie continued.
“Mr. Wilcox wants to talk to you,” Gary said. He was still looking at Willie but talking to Rosie. Not me. Rosie. Gary was on a mission, a mission important enough to ignore a police officer’s order.
Not good.
“Hey, I know you! You came looking for…” The Kevster’s four working brain cells finally fired and he recognized the boys. Then he shouted, “Fuck!”
He threw his ice cream cone at Goon Gary. It splatted in his face and The Kevster took off running.
“What the—?” Gary started to say, stunned immobile. What looked like Liks famous strawberry cheesecake ice cream was dripping off his cheek and chin.
Splat!
Rosie threw his ice cream cone, too. It hit Gary on the side of the head then he took off after The Kevster.
Splat!
