Cherry Red Camero, for SlickNick

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: August 06, 2011

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Submitted: August 06, 2011

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Taking a long drag on the cigarette hanging from his mouth, Nick leaned back against the hood of his camaro. The smell of tobacco was a welcome relief to the motor oil he had been covered in all morning. He watched as a pair of greasers walked his way, running their fingers through their black hair. Nick finished off the cigarette, tossed the butt to the ground, and crushed it with his heel. Crossing his arms across his chest, Nick watched as the closer of the two figures cracked a massive grin.

“Slick! How you been, my man? Haven’t seen you ‘round here since the…incident…”

Nick sighed, not in any mood to deal with the pair of numbskulls. Casually, he offered his reply.

“Hey Johnny. Howsit hangin’ Ray? Nah, I came back to pick up my baby,” he smacked the hood of the Camaro, “and then be on my way. You boys got a problem with that?”
Johnny became flushed with embarrassment, and shook his head.

“No my man! Not at all! I mean, we were just ah…wonderin’...if you were going to make up for what you did last time you were in town,” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he saw Nick become visibly annoyed.

“I’m tellin’ you, blockhead, it wasn’t my fault that Cindy got shot. Alright? I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Why the hell can’t you believe me!” Nick took a step towards the pair, arms spread wide.

Johnny took a step back; he was much smaller, and far less intimidating, than Nick was. He searched for a reply.

“ ‘Cause I know you’re lyin’ to me slick. I won’t believe you, cause it ain’t true!”

Pulling a small item from the pocket of his jeans, Johnny nervously took a step forwards. Nick heard an all too familiar click of a metal latch being released. The switchblade shone in the afternoon sun. Johnny darted towards Nick, blade raised high in the air. Nick took a step forwards, lifted his foot, and swiftly kicked Johnny right in the ribcage. The punk coughed, then double over, collapsing to the ground. Ray backed away, as Nick turned to face him.

Nick walked away from the pair, rounding the corner of his camaro. Hopping over the side of the bright red car, he slid into the driver’s seat. The engine purred to life, then Nick tore away. He sighed as he left his small hometown, destined to leave his colored past behind him. The bright afternoon sun began to slip closer to the horizon.

 

 

For SlickNick


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