I'd really appreciate some reviews. Sorry if im being a bit pushy - im just new to this and need to know if im doing an okay job?
The diner stood half way between wasteland and town. To one side empty space stretched out into the distance – punctuated only by the fast moving, white and red lights of cars speeding along the highway. In the other direction, tightly packed apartment blocks towered up towards the starry sky. The faint buzz of televisions being watched and music being played filtered down to the street through closed blinds and bolted windows.
With an apologetic squeeze, Gerard dropped my hand at my side as we crossed the street. A bell tinkled as we entered the restaurant - its sound joining the constant drone of indistinguishable music whistling through the old-fashioned duke box. The only customers seemed to be fat, middle aged bikers – clad in black studded leather. I could hear them muttering about us as soon as we stepped through the door. Here we go again, I groaned to myself. There was bound to be trouble. Two teenage guys, both wearing eyeliner, who seconds before had been holding hands walk into a diner full of rough looking drunks, probably armed with knifes or guns or both. A shiver ran down my spine at the very thought.
Gerard didn’t seem to share my concerns. Boldly he led me to the window seat and flopped down on the bench. I watched him as we waited to be served. Man, how I loved watching him and his cute little habits. He rested his chin on the palm of one hand – while he picked at the candle in the centre of our table with the other. The candle – an empty green wine bottle, with a red candle stuck in the neck – was just crying out to be picked at. Blood red wax had melted and re-hardened was dribbled down the sides of the bottle.
Gerard raised his head and looked at me. Unaware of the fact I had been lovingly watching his every move.
”What do you have to do to get some service around here?”
Eventually a sleepy eyed waitress in white and blue overalls emerged from a swing door behind the counter. She looked so damn tired I felt like telling her to go have a sit down. Clear her head a bit. I would make my own damn food.
“What do you want?”
Her shrill voice quickly shattered any visions of kindness I had dreamed up. She didn’t deserve it. I looked up at Gerard and raised one eyebrow. He imitated her sterile expression to me behind his hand, to my great amusement. Apparently the waitress didn’t find it so funny – with an icy glare, her lip slightly raised at one side as if to say, “who do you think you are?” she grudgingly took our orders.
I was still feeling a little nervous about the bikers, sitting at the other side of the room smoking cigarettes and swearing loudly. I think Gerard felt a little awkward too, as he kept his voice hushed, keeping ourselves to ourselves, huddled into our little window seat drinking sodas and nursing a massive cheesy pizza.
The word shot through me like a bullet, shattering my bones and my self-confidence in one clean sweep. Faggot. I saw Gerard’s head shoot up, his hazel eyes filled with anger and hatred. One of the bikers – Dirty blonde hair scraped back into a tight pony-tail, eyes as black foreboding as the barrel of a gun – had risen to his feet and was towering over us.
“Who do you think you’re calling a faggot?”
The biker merely opened his huge mouth, revealing nicotine stained, rotten teeth and laughed right in Gerard’s face. Gerard pulled back his fist and threw a punch right into the side of biker guys face.
“Who are you calling a faggot!?”
I was quite frankly, terrified. Half shutting my eyes, I prayed to god that Gerard wasn’t going to get hurt – but I guess I was too late, the biker’s fists were already piling into Gerard’s tiny body. Momentarily forgetting that I was barely 5 foot tall, I jumped to my feet and rushed to Gerard’s aid. As more of the gang joined in, the two of us were soon hugely outnumbered. I don’t think I’d ever been that frightened for someone else’s life. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to Gee…
“All right that’s enough!”
I would never have believed I would be happy to hear that harsh, high-pitched voice – at last! The waitress was stepping in, saving us. I was sure she was going to reprehend the gang of bikers – I mean, what had Gerard and I done wrong? But no, just as I was leaning on the greasy, sticky table, wiping the blood and sweat from my face, I felt the pressure of her claw-like, blood red nails pressing into my flesh.
“Okay, I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Get out!”
I landed in heap on the bed of finely powdered glass that covered the sidewalk at the diner door. Dazed, I vaguely saw her push Gee out and felt him land softly on top of me. Scrambling to our feet, and scooping up the pizza box that had been thrown onto the street beside us Gerard took my hand in his and ran. It had begun to rain pretty heavily. Not so much drops as sheets of water flooded onto the dark and desolate street. I could hear the feet of the bikers pounding along through the constant drum roll of the rain on the sidewalk, I heard them starting up their bikes, my hand closed even tighter around Gerard’s out of terror.
Motorbikes came skidding towards us through the rain. Angry voices, yelling abuse at us. Fags. Gays. Gerard dragged me on, and on. I had no idea where I was going now – all I could make out were lights whizzing past us, and the mass of cold, wet, grey. I felt Gerard’s hand tug me to the left, and obligingly I turned with him. We were running down a dark alleyway now. The street was dark and narrow, lit only by a flickering street light at the far end, by the park. A strong sense of dejavu swept over me – this was the street, those were the bins – this was the very same alley I’d been down with Gerard only last night. He had realised too, I guessed, by the way his steps faltered, if only for a second, as we passed the bins.
But this was no time to be thinking about that. We’d outrun the bikers for now, but they could be back on our tail at any time.