Categories > Movies > Breakfast Club > Renegade
Heavy Metal Vomit Parties
0 reviewsJohn Bender: The man, the myth, the legend. The life of a criminal is not a glorious one, and sometimes we would do just about anything to turn back the hands of time. AU
0Unrated
Chapter 3 - Heavy Metal Vomit Parties
... ... ...
Fear was not in our vocabulary. When something bad happened, we took the fall and we took it like men.
When you're a soldier, you never question where you stand.
The night of the metal show was really the beginning of it all. It was the day that Mad Dog came into the picture. He was the one who was responsible for splitting us apart. He destroyed everything. It started off like every other show we went to, but when it ended, we had made a deal with the devil.
He may have been a bastard, but in the end we had no one to blame but ourselves.
... ... ...
Saturday November 2, 1985
... ... ...
The air was getting cooler in Chicago, announcing the start of the oncoming winter. The boys - all of them - were not very fond of the cooler weather. They all lived in the low class end of town, some of them as bad off as not having any heat at all. It was hard for their families to afford good winter clothing to keep them warm, so usually they piled on layers and layers to keep warm and prevent themselves from getting sick.
John Bender was no exception. His usual winter attire would consist of an under shirt, a thermal shirt, a flannel shirt of some sort, his denim jacket, and his trench coat. Any of them alone would provide next to no warmth, but the combination of all five worked for him. The only other thing he had was his scarf, and he had that since he was thirteen.
Roger, John, and James crammed inside of James' 1974 Ford pick up truck. James was the one delivering the goods to the club. Jake and Ricky were going to walk together, while Reggie was going to take Cody and Tom with him. If John remembered correctly, Reggie's band was probably playing that night which meant that the three younger boys would be there quite early.
John glared at James as he sang an Elton John song along with the radio. John hated Elton, and James knew it. The older boy leaned over and cranked up 'Rocket Man' and began belting it as loud as he could.
"And I think it's gonna be a long long time, till touchdown brings me round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh no no no! I'm a rocket man! Burning up his fuse up here alone! Bah bah ba ba ba ba bah!" He let out a whooping laughter and smacked his steering wheel.
Roger was nicer than John and chuckled at James' antics. John on the other hand, kicked his foot out at the stereo and turned it off. "You're such a fag."
James reached over the dash and gave his brother a hard punch in the arm. "You better watch your fucking mouth and keep your damn feet on the floor, kid." He shook a hand through his messy hair and shot his brother a grin. "I work hard for this piece of shit, you know."
John snorted loudly. "Yeah you work so hard sitting on your ass in here and eating pizza all night. Poor baby."
"I do not eat pizza!" James protested. "I deliver it. If I give it a small taste test that is not a problem." The two younger boys laughed at him.
John looked out the windshield as the club came into view. There were quite a few groups of kids standing out in the parking lot smoking. As far as he could remember, he hadn't seen the club that packed since the Misfits came to town, and that was saying something. He looked back at his older brother. "So who is this guy that you gotta see?"
James kept his eyes on the road. "His name is Mad Dog."
Roger blinked. "Uh, what kind of name is that?"
James shrugged. "I don't know. That's all I know about him. That and he is one of Chicago's biggest blow suppliers."
"What?!" John exclaimed. "You're trading off all our product for cocaine?" John wasn't too sure how he felt about that. He wasn't really into blow. Cody and Tom were always looking for it, and Jake had always tried to talk James into it. Blow was where the big money was, but it also brought upon a whole new slew of problems.
"I'm not trading it all off. He just wants to see what kind of business we can do for him." James turned the wheel into the parking lot. John could tell immediately that his brother was hiding something.
"Why you?" John asked. "Why the hell would he want to deal with you?"
James glared at him as he took off his seat belt and reached under the seat. "And why not me? I got the biggest grass clientele in Shermer!"
"Doesn't Shermer have a blow dealer?" Roger asked quietly.
James didn't make eye contact with the boys. "No one knows where he is, so I'm taking it. Johnny, this can make us some serious money! I can get this piece of shit fixed, maybe even our own place. We can take Janice with us! We can get the fuck out of there!" His eyes were burning with sincerity and John looked away.
He couldn't argue with that. He knew that his brother was right. How could he deny him when he knew deep down that it was for the best? It wasn't for his own personal gain, but once more for him and Janice. James always thought about them first. The only problem was the fact - once more - that it was cocaine. Blow was a serious game; people died everyday because of it, and that just wasn't from overdoses either. John worried about the shady characters that they would come across - the ones wanting product, and the ones supplying them. The thought of the past supplier being MIA also burned on his mind. The whole thing just unsettled him.
"Fine, but...we gotta talk about this some more, bro." John opened up the truck door and stepped out into the concrete lot. Roger slid out behind him and gave him a somber look.
"This can't be going anywhere good, John."
He knew that. He had to trust his brother's word though. James had never led them astray before, and he always put John and Janice first. He had to trust him.
He was angry at himself for every second that he didn't.
... ... ...
John, Roger, and Ricky sat at a table and watched Jake and James from a distance. The three boys were left with a backpack filled with dime bags, scales, and cash. If any of the kids wanted to buy some dope then they were to take care of the sales.
Jake and James were waiting for Mad Dog. They sat positioned at the bar, Jake with a back pack of his own. They seemed to be chatting comfortably and were sipping on drinks - they weren't bringing any unwanted attention to themselves, which was a good thing.
"Isn't this great, boys? Soon we gonna be pushin' so much junk that we'll be rolling in the cash!" Ricky sighed dreamily and took a drink of his beer. "I've heard a bit about this guy."
Roger perked an eyebrow at the blue haired boy. "Yeah? What about him?"
"You guys remember ole Ronnie Sinclair from your freshmen year? The red headed kid with the huge mullet?" Ricky laughed at the memory of the kid. "Anyways, he was the last guy that was working for this Mad Dog guy. I heard Ronnie would have his hands on like ten thousand dollars a week!"
Roger's eyes almost bulged out of his head. "Ten grand? That sure is a lot of cash."
Bender shrugged. "And what happened to him, Ricky? Why did he pull out?"
Ricky paused momentarily and took a sip of beer. He finally shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not quite sure, to tell you the truth. I heard that he just up and left town all of a sudden. Some guy that was doing time while I was in the cooler was talking about him. Said he was never coming back."
Bender nodded. "Did you ever stop to think why, Rick?"
Before Ricky could answer, Roger nodded in the direction of James and Jake. "That must be the man right there. He sure doesn't look very tough."
Bender spun his head around and got a good look at the guy they call Mad Dog. He was a short man who only stood about five foot five. He wore a long black trench coat that was buttoned all the way up to his chin. On his head, he wore a blue and white bandana and a pair of expensive looking sunglasses. James and Jake just towered over the guy and looked like they could take him in one round.
But John Bender knew better than that.
There was a very good possibility that Mad Dog had a whole swarm of guys around him watching his brother. There was also a very good possibility that Mad Dog was packing heat; he probably had a gun or two, a chain, a switchblade, if not more!
Mad Dog motioned towards the exit of the club and James and Jake followed the smaller man out. Roger looked at Bender with a worried expression.
Ricky sighed. "Anyone wanna go out for a smoke?"
... ... ...
James sat at the bar with Jake waiting for the arrival of Mad Dog. He didn't want to say he was nervous, but he had always heard a lot of crazy stories about crack dealers and the going ons of the Chicago streets. Chicago was a hell of a lot different than Shermer was and he didn't want to get his head blown off there in a scummy punk club.
"So we got a whole QP of green...how much you willing to sell this for?" Jake asked him as he figured out calculations in his head.
"$450," James answered.
Jake snorted. "Dude, did you know you can get a QP in California for way cheaper than that? I heard of people buying that stuff for like $300."
"Illinois sucks," James gave a curt reply. And in the drug world, Illinois did suck. They often had some of the highest prices in the country. He wanted to make sure he could rack up the highest price possible. Cocaine was worth a lot of money.
"Okay, what about the hash?" Jake asked.
"Uh, $350," James answered.
"Okay, so that puts us up to $800...and what about the lube?"
"Go $300 to put us at $1200." Jake took a sip of his drink and scanned the crowd at the club. "That'll hopefully score us two ounces. I'm sure if we get rid of that he'll get us more on a spot deal. It really all depends on how much we can push."
"What about a cut?" Asked Jake, always worried about profits.
James regarded the black haired boy patiently. "I told you, it all depends on what we push. We're doin' a trade because we have no money, dip shit. If we can push this stuff at a decent pace, we can probably get a spot deal where we pay nothing up front."
"Man, this will take forever. We gotta get a better deal going, James!" Jake was whining now. If James wasn't so tense he would have laid him out right then and there.
"Just shut the fuck up and calm down. You're lucky you even got me doing something this small. This goes the way I want, you got that? You'll get your share, but for now we just have to wait and see." He pushed his fingers through his hair and gave the older boy a strong stare. Jake quickly backed down and nodded his head.
"Are you Mr. Bender?" He heard a soft spoken voice behind him. He turned in his chair slowly and came face to face with a bandana clad man.
"Yeah, what's it to you?" He asked sharply.
"I'm Mad Dog." The man retorted with an edge to his voice. James couldn't even believe that this guy was the Mad Dog. He was short, scrawny, and soft spoken. He had no idea that a man of this caliber could be such a heavy hitter.
Jake, being the ass kissing, cocaine addict that he was, jumped up with a grin. "Jake Porter, good to meet you. This here is James."
Mad Dog looked Jake up and down before he returned his gaze to James. "I would like to speak with you boys out in the parking lot, if you don't mind." Jake gave James an impatient look and motioned for him to get a move on.
"Yeah, sure, that'll be fine." James replied. He gathered his drink and finished it off with one gulp and set it back on the bar. He turned his head swiftly to the table at the opposite side of the room. He instantly made eye contact with Ricky, and motioned for him to move outside.
James turned back around and gave the older men a polite smile. "Shall we?"
... ... ...
Bender quickly gathered the back pack they were assigned to and handed it off to Ricky. The blue haired boy quickly stood from his seat and waved down Cody and Tom, who were standing at the stage and chatting with Reggie. The two skin heads quickly made their way over, but not without their goofy grins plastered all over their faces. John frowned at them.
"Get the fuck over here already, will ya?" John clenched and unclenched his gloved hands as the boys approached.
"What's going on, boys?" Cody asked. "Reggie is about to play!"
John rolled his eyes. "Reggie can wait; we have more important things to worry about right now. We gotta go outside and keep an eye out on Jake and James. You two doucebags are coming with us."
Tom and Cody put up no fight. The five boys quickly cut across the growing group of dancers in the middle of the club and made their way towards the exit. John's concern was growing by the minute knowing that his brother was out there alone with nobody but Jake. He threw open the exit doors and leaned up against the wall.
He couldn't come out looking for trouble, nor could he bust in on the middle of a deal. He had to remain as calm and inconspicuous as possible. He reached into the inside pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a package of Marlboros; he struck the match against his front two teeth and lit up his smoke, keeping a watchful eye over the parking lot for any sign of his brother.
"Black four door, two o'clock." Roger commented. He nodded in the direction of said car to their right. Bender just caught the door closing.
"You sure that's him?" He asked.
"Trust me," Roger assured. "It was him."
"What do you think they are doing in there?" Cody asked. He brought his beer outside - even though he clearly was underage and was not supposed to - and took a long drink from it.
"Not wanting to say whatever it is they needed to say in front of so many people," Bender answered. Big timers were always paranoid like that.
He kept his eyes glued on the car. There were two men leaning against the front of the hood, and four more on two other cars on either side of the black four-door. When he thought that there were guys swarming the club earlier, he knew now that his suspicions were correct.
"What the hell?" He heard Roger's voice. John's head snapped around at the sound of it and he nudged his friend.
"What is it?"
"Boys, I think the fuzz are here!" He was looking all over the parking lot frantically. There were dark cars circling the parking lots. They were indeed the police; they always had their windows tinted as dark as possible, and they always had at least three antennas perched on the ass end of their cars.
John's heart almost stopped when he realized they were circling Mad Dog's car.
He dropped his cigarette to the ground and began to walk to the car.
"What the fuck are you doing, kid? You get your punk ass back here now!" Ricky grabbed him by the back of the jacket and hauled him back as hard as he could. John cursed.
"Let me go, asshole! I have to get him out of there!"
"Why so he can serve me my head on a platter for letting you, I don't fucking think so! Besides, that guy would probably have a gun pointed at your head the second you showed up thinkin' you were a rat!" he let John go roughly and pointed as he spoke. "And if I get caught with this damn backpack on my shoulders - I'm on probation! I would get another sentence and then some tacked on!"
Suddenly, the black four door hit the gas and accelerated from the parking lot at top speeds. Jake and James were still inside of it. John's heart sank and he ran forward a few steps.
That was when he noticed the cops.
They began exiting their cars with their guns drawn. The six men that were previously hanging off of Mad Dog's car began to scatter, but they couldn't get very far. There were about four dozen uniformed and casually clothed law enforcers pointing their guns at them.
"Get down on the ground! You are under arrest for the murder of Ronnie Sinclair!"
John's breath hitched in his throat and he turned to Ricky. "Didn't you say Ronnie Sinclair was Mad Dog's last connection?"
The blue haired boy swallowed hard and nodded. "I guess he didn't leave town after all, huh?"
TBC
... ... ...
Fear was not in our vocabulary. When something bad happened, we took the fall and we took it like men.
When you're a soldier, you never question where you stand.
The night of the metal show was really the beginning of it all. It was the day that Mad Dog came into the picture. He was the one who was responsible for splitting us apart. He destroyed everything. It started off like every other show we went to, but when it ended, we had made a deal with the devil.
He may have been a bastard, but in the end we had no one to blame but ourselves.
... ... ...
Saturday November 2, 1985
... ... ...
The air was getting cooler in Chicago, announcing the start of the oncoming winter. The boys - all of them - were not very fond of the cooler weather. They all lived in the low class end of town, some of them as bad off as not having any heat at all. It was hard for their families to afford good winter clothing to keep them warm, so usually they piled on layers and layers to keep warm and prevent themselves from getting sick.
John Bender was no exception. His usual winter attire would consist of an under shirt, a thermal shirt, a flannel shirt of some sort, his denim jacket, and his trench coat. Any of them alone would provide next to no warmth, but the combination of all five worked for him. The only other thing he had was his scarf, and he had that since he was thirteen.
Roger, John, and James crammed inside of James' 1974 Ford pick up truck. James was the one delivering the goods to the club. Jake and Ricky were going to walk together, while Reggie was going to take Cody and Tom with him. If John remembered correctly, Reggie's band was probably playing that night which meant that the three younger boys would be there quite early.
John glared at James as he sang an Elton John song along with the radio. John hated Elton, and James knew it. The older boy leaned over and cranked up 'Rocket Man' and began belting it as loud as he could.
"And I think it's gonna be a long long time, till touchdown brings me round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh no no no! I'm a rocket man! Burning up his fuse up here alone! Bah bah ba ba ba ba bah!" He let out a whooping laughter and smacked his steering wheel.
Roger was nicer than John and chuckled at James' antics. John on the other hand, kicked his foot out at the stereo and turned it off. "You're such a fag."
James reached over the dash and gave his brother a hard punch in the arm. "You better watch your fucking mouth and keep your damn feet on the floor, kid." He shook a hand through his messy hair and shot his brother a grin. "I work hard for this piece of shit, you know."
John snorted loudly. "Yeah you work so hard sitting on your ass in here and eating pizza all night. Poor baby."
"I do not eat pizza!" James protested. "I deliver it. If I give it a small taste test that is not a problem." The two younger boys laughed at him.
John looked out the windshield as the club came into view. There were quite a few groups of kids standing out in the parking lot smoking. As far as he could remember, he hadn't seen the club that packed since the Misfits came to town, and that was saying something. He looked back at his older brother. "So who is this guy that you gotta see?"
James kept his eyes on the road. "His name is Mad Dog."
Roger blinked. "Uh, what kind of name is that?"
James shrugged. "I don't know. That's all I know about him. That and he is one of Chicago's biggest blow suppliers."
"What?!" John exclaimed. "You're trading off all our product for cocaine?" John wasn't too sure how he felt about that. He wasn't really into blow. Cody and Tom were always looking for it, and Jake had always tried to talk James into it. Blow was where the big money was, but it also brought upon a whole new slew of problems.
"I'm not trading it all off. He just wants to see what kind of business we can do for him." James turned the wheel into the parking lot. John could tell immediately that his brother was hiding something.
"Why you?" John asked. "Why the hell would he want to deal with you?"
James glared at him as he took off his seat belt and reached under the seat. "And why not me? I got the biggest grass clientele in Shermer!"
"Doesn't Shermer have a blow dealer?" Roger asked quietly.
James didn't make eye contact with the boys. "No one knows where he is, so I'm taking it. Johnny, this can make us some serious money! I can get this piece of shit fixed, maybe even our own place. We can take Janice with us! We can get the fuck out of there!" His eyes were burning with sincerity and John looked away.
He couldn't argue with that. He knew that his brother was right. How could he deny him when he knew deep down that it was for the best? It wasn't for his own personal gain, but once more for him and Janice. James always thought about them first. The only problem was the fact - once more - that it was cocaine. Blow was a serious game; people died everyday because of it, and that just wasn't from overdoses either. John worried about the shady characters that they would come across - the ones wanting product, and the ones supplying them. The thought of the past supplier being MIA also burned on his mind. The whole thing just unsettled him.
"Fine, but...we gotta talk about this some more, bro." John opened up the truck door and stepped out into the concrete lot. Roger slid out behind him and gave him a somber look.
"This can't be going anywhere good, John."
He knew that. He had to trust his brother's word though. James had never led them astray before, and he always put John and Janice first. He had to trust him.
He was angry at himself for every second that he didn't.
... ... ...
John, Roger, and Ricky sat at a table and watched Jake and James from a distance. The three boys were left with a backpack filled with dime bags, scales, and cash. If any of the kids wanted to buy some dope then they were to take care of the sales.
Jake and James were waiting for Mad Dog. They sat positioned at the bar, Jake with a back pack of his own. They seemed to be chatting comfortably and were sipping on drinks - they weren't bringing any unwanted attention to themselves, which was a good thing.
"Isn't this great, boys? Soon we gonna be pushin' so much junk that we'll be rolling in the cash!" Ricky sighed dreamily and took a drink of his beer. "I've heard a bit about this guy."
Roger perked an eyebrow at the blue haired boy. "Yeah? What about him?"
"You guys remember ole Ronnie Sinclair from your freshmen year? The red headed kid with the huge mullet?" Ricky laughed at the memory of the kid. "Anyways, he was the last guy that was working for this Mad Dog guy. I heard Ronnie would have his hands on like ten thousand dollars a week!"
Roger's eyes almost bulged out of his head. "Ten grand? That sure is a lot of cash."
Bender shrugged. "And what happened to him, Ricky? Why did he pull out?"
Ricky paused momentarily and took a sip of beer. He finally shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not quite sure, to tell you the truth. I heard that he just up and left town all of a sudden. Some guy that was doing time while I was in the cooler was talking about him. Said he was never coming back."
Bender nodded. "Did you ever stop to think why, Rick?"
Before Ricky could answer, Roger nodded in the direction of James and Jake. "That must be the man right there. He sure doesn't look very tough."
Bender spun his head around and got a good look at the guy they call Mad Dog. He was a short man who only stood about five foot five. He wore a long black trench coat that was buttoned all the way up to his chin. On his head, he wore a blue and white bandana and a pair of expensive looking sunglasses. James and Jake just towered over the guy and looked like they could take him in one round.
But John Bender knew better than that.
There was a very good possibility that Mad Dog had a whole swarm of guys around him watching his brother. There was also a very good possibility that Mad Dog was packing heat; he probably had a gun or two, a chain, a switchblade, if not more!
Mad Dog motioned towards the exit of the club and James and Jake followed the smaller man out. Roger looked at Bender with a worried expression.
Ricky sighed. "Anyone wanna go out for a smoke?"
... ... ...
James sat at the bar with Jake waiting for the arrival of Mad Dog. He didn't want to say he was nervous, but he had always heard a lot of crazy stories about crack dealers and the going ons of the Chicago streets. Chicago was a hell of a lot different than Shermer was and he didn't want to get his head blown off there in a scummy punk club.
"So we got a whole QP of green...how much you willing to sell this for?" Jake asked him as he figured out calculations in his head.
"$450," James answered.
Jake snorted. "Dude, did you know you can get a QP in California for way cheaper than that? I heard of people buying that stuff for like $300."
"Illinois sucks," James gave a curt reply. And in the drug world, Illinois did suck. They often had some of the highest prices in the country. He wanted to make sure he could rack up the highest price possible. Cocaine was worth a lot of money.
"Okay, what about the hash?" Jake asked.
"Uh, $350," James answered.
"Okay, so that puts us up to $800...and what about the lube?"
"Go $300 to put us at $1200." Jake took a sip of his drink and scanned the crowd at the club. "That'll hopefully score us two ounces. I'm sure if we get rid of that he'll get us more on a spot deal. It really all depends on how much we can push."
"What about a cut?" Asked Jake, always worried about profits.
James regarded the black haired boy patiently. "I told you, it all depends on what we push. We're doin' a trade because we have no money, dip shit. If we can push this stuff at a decent pace, we can probably get a spot deal where we pay nothing up front."
"Man, this will take forever. We gotta get a better deal going, James!" Jake was whining now. If James wasn't so tense he would have laid him out right then and there.
"Just shut the fuck up and calm down. You're lucky you even got me doing something this small. This goes the way I want, you got that? You'll get your share, but for now we just have to wait and see." He pushed his fingers through his hair and gave the older boy a strong stare. Jake quickly backed down and nodded his head.
"Are you Mr. Bender?" He heard a soft spoken voice behind him. He turned in his chair slowly and came face to face with a bandana clad man.
"Yeah, what's it to you?" He asked sharply.
"I'm Mad Dog." The man retorted with an edge to his voice. James couldn't even believe that this guy was the Mad Dog. He was short, scrawny, and soft spoken. He had no idea that a man of this caliber could be such a heavy hitter.
Jake, being the ass kissing, cocaine addict that he was, jumped up with a grin. "Jake Porter, good to meet you. This here is James."
Mad Dog looked Jake up and down before he returned his gaze to James. "I would like to speak with you boys out in the parking lot, if you don't mind." Jake gave James an impatient look and motioned for him to get a move on.
"Yeah, sure, that'll be fine." James replied. He gathered his drink and finished it off with one gulp and set it back on the bar. He turned his head swiftly to the table at the opposite side of the room. He instantly made eye contact with Ricky, and motioned for him to move outside.
James turned back around and gave the older men a polite smile. "Shall we?"
... ... ...
Bender quickly gathered the back pack they were assigned to and handed it off to Ricky. The blue haired boy quickly stood from his seat and waved down Cody and Tom, who were standing at the stage and chatting with Reggie. The two skin heads quickly made their way over, but not without their goofy grins plastered all over their faces. John frowned at them.
"Get the fuck over here already, will ya?" John clenched and unclenched his gloved hands as the boys approached.
"What's going on, boys?" Cody asked. "Reggie is about to play!"
John rolled his eyes. "Reggie can wait; we have more important things to worry about right now. We gotta go outside and keep an eye out on Jake and James. You two doucebags are coming with us."
Tom and Cody put up no fight. The five boys quickly cut across the growing group of dancers in the middle of the club and made their way towards the exit. John's concern was growing by the minute knowing that his brother was out there alone with nobody but Jake. He threw open the exit doors and leaned up against the wall.
He couldn't come out looking for trouble, nor could he bust in on the middle of a deal. He had to remain as calm and inconspicuous as possible. He reached into the inside pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a package of Marlboros; he struck the match against his front two teeth and lit up his smoke, keeping a watchful eye over the parking lot for any sign of his brother.
"Black four door, two o'clock." Roger commented. He nodded in the direction of said car to their right. Bender just caught the door closing.
"You sure that's him?" He asked.
"Trust me," Roger assured. "It was him."
"What do you think they are doing in there?" Cody asked. He brought his beer outside - even though he clearly was underage and was not supposed to - and took a long drink from it.
"Not wanting to say whatever it is they needed to say in front of so many people," Bender answered. Big timers were always paranoid like that.
He kept his eyes glued on the car. There were two men leaning against the front of the hood, and four more on two other cars on either side of the black four-door. When he thought that there were guys swarming the club earlier, he knew now that his suspicions were correct.
"What the hell?" He heard Roger's voice. John's head snapped around at the sound of it and he nudged his friend.
"What is it?"
"Boys, I think the fuzz are here!" He was looking all over the parking lot frantically. There were dark cars circling the parking lots. They were indeed the police; they always had their windows tinted as dark as possible, and they always had at least three antennas perched on the ass end of their cars.
John's heart almost stopped when he realized they were circling Mad Dog's car.
He dropped his cigarette to the ground and began to walk to the car.
"What the fuck are you doing, kid? You get your punk ass back here now!" Ricky grabbed him by the back of the jacket and hauled him back as hard as he could. John cursed.
"Let me go, asshole! I have to get him out of there!"
"Why so he can serve me my head on a platter for letting you, I don't fucking think so! Besides, that guy would probably have a gun pointed at your head the second you showed up thinkin' you were a rat!" he let John go roughly and pointed as he spoke. "And if I get caught with this damn backpack on my shoulders - I'm on probation! I would get another sentence and then some tacked on!"
Suddenly, the black four door hit the gas and accelerated from the parking lot at top speeds. Jake and James were still inside of it. John's heart sank and he ran forward a few steps.
That was when he noticed the cops.
They began exiting their cars with their guns drawn. The six men that were previously hanging off of Mad Dog's car began to scatter, but they couldn't get very far. There were about four dozen uniformed and casually clothed law enforcers pointing their guns at them.
"Get down on the ground! You are under arrest for the murder of Ronnie Sinclair!"
John's breath hitched in his throat and he turned to Ricky. "Didn't you say Ronnie Sinclair was Mad Dog's last connection?"
The blue haired boy swallowed hard and nodded. "I guess he didn't leave town after all, huh?"
TBC
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