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Post by riley on Mar 18, 2011 9:10:24 GMT -5
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Music pounded through the old pickups speakers, causing the very metal to vibrate, and quite possibly dislodging some of the rust Riley had recently neglected to sand away and re-paint. It was on the young mans to do list, but with everything else that been jetting off in his life recently, he had somewhat forgotten about such minor things as a little bit of rust.
Riley sat in the back of his truck, staring out across the city, a bottle of beer hanging from his fingers as he watched a plane come into land. Why. Why did that world get to be normal – what was so special about the people in those buildings, those cars, that meant that they get to have a normal life? Who the hell had he fucked off so much in a previous life that meant this one was so screwed? Lifting the green coloured glass to his lips, riley drained the bottle of its bliss giving nectar and tossed it to the side where it rolled and clinked against another five bottles of the same type.
Not normally one for drinking, not normally one for giving into impulse – for someone who prided himself in the fact that he kept such strict restriction on himself, not only for his own benefit but for those around him, he was mildly surprised at how easily the drink was slipping into him, and how easily it was affecting his system. Already the world seemed to move a little too fast when he moved his head, the words to the music blaring through his sound system a little too fuzzy.
Good. Passing out in a drunken stupor was pretty much what the young man was aiming for – was the reason he had driven out where in the first place. He hadn’t told Ellia where he was going, hadn’t gone so far as to even leave a note, and come the morning he’d feel bad about it, but right now he didn’t care. He wasn’t used to the relationship thing, wasn’t sure how to play it and was pretty much going day by day.
Cracking his shoulders, and then his neck, Riley stood and jumped from the truck bed, swaying slightly as he landed on the dirt, catching his balance on the side of the metal. He’d ran out of beer, and given that he wasn’t quite ready to finish drinking yet, he checked his wallet was still in his pocket, locked the truck, and headed in search of the nearest liquer store.
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Post by kyle on Mar 24, 2011 1:49:48 GMT -5
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The night was dead and the streets barren as the red and black Triumph dipped low and gunned around the corner. Rear wheel slipping across the damp road from an earlier rain, a knee of a long leg stretched out for balance before the bike popped back upright. Zipping down the narrow alleyway, the roar of a landing plane rang in Kyle’s head, muffled only by the padding over his ears. A bounty hunter might work when he wanted but there was also no down time. There was never a bad time to work. And this particular night he had hauled a drug lord skipped bail in. It was not an easy task, but it never was. Kyle was actually fortunate that the large bruise forming on his jaw was all he had to show for the night. Still, he had seen worse.
Continuing through the streets, Kyle had just shifted gears, the RPMs dropping as the bike started to accelerate, a figure appeared before him unexpectedly in the street. With a sudden squeal of rubber, the bike veered quickly and dodged the young man. Leg thrown out, Kyle let out a sharp groan as he slammed on the breaks and pulled the momentum of the motorcycle around in a 180. Dropping the clutch, the bike launched forward once and died. Taking a moment to let the sudden adrenaline rush die down, Kyle balanced the bike between his legs and looked back over his shoulder at the fellow he narrowly missed hitting. After a moment, his gloves raised to loosen the strap at his chin and pulled off his helmet. Glancing over the man once more, he gave an apologetic smile and shrugged.
[white]“Sorry mate, wasn’t expecting to see anyone in the middle of the road. Got your wobbly boots on? You’re hell and gone from the nearest boozer. You alright? Look fine. Better than a smear on the pavement, I’ll give you that much. What you nearly were, by the way. Don’t you know better than to stagger down the middle of the road?”[/white] Gripping the handlebar of his Triumph, Kyle rocked the bike back on its kickstand and looked again to him.
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[hope it's cool what I did with him; he seemed like he might be in a state not to be paying close attention]
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Post by riley on Mar 27, 2011 12:24:42 GMT -5
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Riley had forgotten, in his drunken stupor, that most stores and pubs were closed at the grand old time of two am given that the owners and employees rather enjoyed some level of rest and sleep before another day began anew with the rising sun. As was, Riley too should be one of these people curled up under the covers in the land of sleep, awaiting the BFG to capture any bad dreams and replace them with the good for he had a job to return to in the morning, a house and home whose owners were in desperate need of a koi pond and a new bed of roses.
But did he feel bad as he staggered through the streets of this town whose name had fled his mind faster than a rat from the titanic? No. Far from it in fact, Riley felt an unprecedented level of freedom now that the shackles of his self imposed prison had been loosed for the night thanks to the wondrous lubrication of the alcohol buzzing through his system. Unfortunately for the young man however, the same need for this feeling to continue was not being accommodated by the local merchants as he passed the fifth closed store he had seen in the last hour. He was slowly sobering, and with it came not only the unwanted return of emotion, problems and sheer turmoil of recent events that he simply did not want to deal with right now, but also the painful beginning of a migraine, a precursor of what he was sure would be the least of his problems when he did finally sleep and wake in the morning.
Staggering somewhat in the road, Riley stretched his arms In front of him, cracking his elbows, only to be very nearly knocked to the floor by something flashing by him, close enough to feel the heat from the engine as it rippled his clothes. Blinking his way through the booze induced haze that had taken root in his mind, the intoxicated man peered through the gloom of the light shed by the streetlights and into the face of a man whose mouth seemed to work a mile a minute, and who had very nearly turned him into a Riley shaped pancake.
Maybe there was logic to this sidewalk thing after all.
Lifting a hand to wave the other guy off, Riley then proceeded to shove both of his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and nearly fall over in the process due to the unneeded enthusiasm in the action. ”I’m fine...”He said, his words lengthened and dulled by the drink as he staggered to regain his balance. For some reason, the road seemed intent on bucking him from it’s surface. This is what he got for being such a light weight. ”Just looking to continue the paaarty man....”Again he squinted, peering at the other guy and his bike. ”You know where ah can get some beer round he....re?”
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Post by kyle on Apr 2, 2011 16:16:37 GMT -5
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Unfortunately for Riley, he had just encountered the buzz killer, and not just because he was nearly knocked into oblivion. While Kyle could easily ‘continue the party’, he was not about to do so after his fashion with a shit-faced guy who could barely keep on his own two feet. Not only would any adrenaline-pumping activities be even more dangerous with a drunk, but Kyle did not really approve of drinking at all. He understood that it was a way to escape for most, maybe just loosen up, and usually he would could not care less if anyone did so. Back in the day he even did a great deal of clubbing with drunks surrounding him. But when ones wife used alcohol to unwind, it came home and a bigger concern.
[white]“Sure mate, of course. Know my way around here now, have a pretty good sense of direction. Have to with my job. Down the road a bit though and I’m not walking with these dodgy knees. Shit luck about getting older. That’s why I date an older woman, to feel better about myself. Hop on. You throw up on me though, I’ll pull a wheelie and kick you off on your backside, promise.”[/white] Of course, if he knew that Riley was a lightweight, he might have not offered at all. Even when Kyle took off, after the drunken young man got on in the hopes of drowning himself under booze again, and drove easy so he wouldn’t have trouble hanging on, he was under the impression that the chances he would spew might be low. Maybe it was good for the both of them that Riley was already coming down a bit. And he was about to come down a whole lot more.
No neon lights greeted Riley to lure him into a local bar like a bug to a zapper for emotions. Instead a large white and blue International House of Pancakes, filled at this hour with other sobering early twenty-somethings, was where Kyle stopped. Pulling directly up onto the sidewalk to park, because the front spots were all taken, Kyle kicked down the stand and dismounted. Taking Riley by the shoulder, he steered him into the IHOP and to the front desk. He was not in a habit of manhandling other guys, especially ones who looked like they could handle themselves under different circumstances, but he subconsciously sensed that if he just walked in under the presumption Riley would follow, the chances were he’d just wander off in search of what was promised to him. [white] “Best get this bloke a cup of decaf, sharpish. Sit anywhere?”[/white] He asked, but was already encouraging Riley forward to a booth in the brightly lit restaurant.
Glancing up, Kyle laughed sharply when some girl at a diagonal booth leaning into her exasperatedly sober friend waved drunkenly at Riley and ducked her head away giggling. He was not all that surprised, the kid was not unfortunate looking at all, but he doubted that the attention would make up for the trick. Sitting down across, Kyle grabbed a menu from the end of the table casually, as though they had planned to come here together,[white] “Have you eaten anything? Bet they have decent flapjacks; you look like a kid who can pack it away. You some kind of boxer? Probably haven’t seen too many losses yet, still have a clean looking face.”[/white] Looking up at Riley expectantly as the waiter came up with a cup and poured coffee, Kyle glanced to the second cup hanging presumptuously from the guy’s finger. [white] “Sure, what the hell, I agreed to drink with the kid.”[/white] Now Kyle cracked a grin that suggested that he was fully aware of what he had done after all.
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Post by riley on Apr 4, 2011 7:25:44 GMT -5
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For Riley the trip on the back of the bike passed in somewhat of a blur that took his dulled brain more than a little while to process, more so when they pulled up not in front of the bar he had been promised but a familiar looking building that smelled of pancakes and coffee. For a second, Riley Dixon could almost believe he was home, the scent of this place so akin to his own kitchen on a Sunday morning that he could practically hear his mother signing along to the radio, his father teasing her for being tone deaf. It was thud then, a moment of clarity that he remembered he was several hundred miles from being anywhere near home, and in fact there was a rather fast talking man attached to his shoulder, steering him into a booth and past a giggling brunette whom he could only smile at in return.
Falling into one of the padded seats heavily, Riley stared incredulously in the steaming mug of dark liquid that had been placed in front of him and frowned. This most definitely was not the nectar he had been searching for, nor that he had been promised, and he couldn’t help the scowl that settled itself quite comfortable on his face as he looked up at the man sitting across from him. Liar. Trickster. It seemed everyone these days was intent of twisting the truth he clung too, on forcing so called truths on to his unyielding psyche. Sure, being told you were taken for beer and ending up with coffee was nothing compared to being told you were the son of a witch and monster, but it was still another knock against the collective nature of humanity as far as the twenty six year old could see.
Lifitng a hand, he pointed a finger at the man and scowled, narrowing his eyes. ”Liar” he accused, dropping his hand to the table and finding the mug of coffee anyway, wrapping his large hands easily around the circumference and lifting it part way to his lips.”This isn’t a bar... this.... this is not... beer.”For some reason, Riley felt the need to state the obvious as he lifted the cup the rest of the way and drank from the cup, jerking his hand away as he burnt his tongue on the steaming liquid and in the process, his hand.
Muttering under his breath, he wiped his hand along the back of his jeans, the momentary pain enough to make the dark haired man realise he was being asked some form of a question, even if the haste at which the sentences seemed to escape the others mouth made it somewhat hard for his sluggish brain to keep up with, his got the basic jist of what was being asked of him. ”I... ate. Yesst...Wednesday.... i ate Wednesday” Riley confirmed, blinking as he drew his eyes across the room and finding company in fellow drunkards having coffee coaxed down their throats. See. He should have asked these people where to get beer, they seemed like the kind of people who might know where the best place to drown yourself could be. In fact, he was going to do that he decided, as he started to slip from the bench, he was going to ask that pretty brunette who had waved at him on the way in...
Again, he sat heavily on the edge of the bench, groping the table until his hand connected with the ceramic coffee mug. Coffee first, waylay the headache he could already feel at the corners of his eyes and stop the world wanting to spin when he stood up again, and then he would talk to the brunette. Oh... and answer this other guys question... because apparently, from the look he was being given, he hadn’t yet, though he was pretty sure he had. Yeh. He had. He mustn’t have heard. ”Box. But don’t fight. Not yet. Thinkin’ bout it.”
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Post by kyle on Apr 4, 2011 11:43:49 GMT -5
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The guy was still clearly drunk, so Kyle was not about to let anything he said get to him. He rarely did from sober people as it were. Although his motivations in deceiving Riley did not justify such a loathsome scowl, at least in Kyle’s book, it was not as though he was wrong. Kyle did lie to get him here. Consciously so. No proof of this was better than the fact that he was drier than a Mormon on Sunday. Not that that was at all why he didn’t drink. He really had nothing against it and had tried it more than enough times in his youth, but he just did not like the feeling of inebriation. Kyle was not the type to let worry eat away at him, did not let issues hang heavy on his soul. At least, not that he was aware of. Maybe facing death as sport so often just had additional benefits of releasing that stress and thusly Kyle from the desire to get shit faced entirely. It was just him; if IHOP served any sort of alcohol he probably would get Riley a glass of the amber stuff. Too bad for him they didn’t.
After letting out a surprised laugh to eating last Wednesday and prattling on about looking like a scraggly alley cat if he did not eat more often, Kyle ordered a large stack of pancakes à la carte. The waiter was gone and Kyle took to doctoring his coffee. He could not be sure about a drunken tongue, but this stuff was terrible black. But it got the job done. [white]“Bastard like you’s definitely fit for it, no doubt about that. I could tell. Wasn’t much into just boxing myself, pussy footing around. Might as well be a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot. Too much down time. Much preferred using the whole body, get the mind into overdrive trying to pay attention to everything going on. Nothing like that adrenaline rush, am I right mate? Why I did kickboxing. Not sure I could still get my leg up so high anymore, not as spry as I was back in the day. The Cook’s disappointed. Likes that crazy kama sutra stuff in bed. Have to say it’s not too bad for me either. But you starve yourself and you’re not going to be a happy camper in that ring. Need to feed your brain, keep your wits about you, otherwise that pretty face is going to look like canned dog food and my wife’ll be sewing your eyelid back on.”[/white]
Finally taking a drink, and sensing from a great deal of experience that Riley was probably feeling a little battered now, Kyle set the cup back down reluctantly. As though he was the one dealing with any issues tonight. [white] “So did I just steal you away from the beer run for you and some boozer pals, or have you been drinking alone? Definitely have a bitter taste in your mouth, don’t you? Controlled fighting’ll actually be a good way to let that aggression out. No sense showing it to a stranger just looking out for you. Kyle, by the way. You got a name I should be listening for on the box?”[/white]
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Post by riley on Apr 8, 2011 6:26:10 GMT -5
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Wow this guy could talk. Riley found himself watching the other mans mouth as it open and closed, momentarily hypnotised by the sounds in much the same way one can hypnotise an alligator by pressing a palm against its neck, fascinated by the sheer volume of words he seemed able to fit into such a small expanse of time. Riley was almost envious – he often struggled for words and the right thing to say and he doubted whether this other guy ever had the same problem.
Again, it took the man a moment to realise he was being anything other than talked at; that indeed he had been asked another question. Once more, Riley sat back against his seat and flexed his fingers, a movement that caused the knuckles to crack and proved a moment relief for the man as he formulated his answer in his head, a process that took slightly longer than it would if Riley had been sober. Perhaps it was a good thing that this man could talk so much – Kyle. He spoke enough for the two of them, and kept distracting riley form the various Other drunkards in the establishment, and his pursuit of the nectar that had caused them all to be in such a state.
Reaching across the table, Rileys fingers closed around the sugar pot. Drawing it back to his cup, he proceeded to pour an unsteady stream of the white granules into the murky depths of his coffee, which he then stirred with a fork, the first utensil his fingers grasped. Well. It got the job done, even if the vigorous stirring motion did cause the dark liquid to once again spill over the side and collect around the base of the cup. The white porcelain wasn’t looking white anymore, but the table at least could withstand the stains – it had been built to do just that, had it not?
”Why would you be listening my name on a box?”He asked, squinting at Kyle and wondering just what kind of mad man had just bought him pancakes and coffee, the common sense of the statement passing Riley’s mind in that Kyle was most probably not talking about a box of the cardboard variety.” Riley. My names Riley.” he grinned though, forgetting in the space of a few seconds that just a few minutes earlier he had been accusing the man opposite him of being a liar, and deciding that he didn’t like him. For all Riley cared right then, Kyle could be his best friend. ”...annnddd... i was drinking on mah own. On the , the Ridge thing up that little path. My trucks up there.”
Once more testing his coffee, the burning sensation on his tongue that was helping partway to slur and deaden his words a reminder that previously it had been scolding hot. It wasn’t as bad this time, and was most definitely sweeter, though he took only a small drink before replacing it on the table.
”You? You doing out at...” he lifted his hand to look at his watch, and was mildy surprised only his sweatband before remembering that generally, he didn’t wear a watch. ”late... if you have a korma sutra cook to get home too?” Well, some of what Kyle had said had sunk in, even if in his drunken state Riley hadn’t made sense of some of it.
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Post by kyle on Apr 13, 2011 18:17:27 GMT -5
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If only Kyle did know how to say the right things, ask the right questions. Perhaps after an exhaustive speech he managed something close to it, but he was anything but efficient when he talked. In fact, little of what he said mattered, because little of it was truth, and most of it was just chatter to disguise what might be honest. It was easier to be disregarded on a whole, than rejected in partiality. It was not that he was looking for the knuckle-cracking man’s approval, but it was not a habit one broke easily after over thirty years of lung-exercising monologues. Because if there was anyone a man could be relaxed around, it was a bloke who was so piss drunk he could not function properly and would probably not remember you in the morning.
Despite the guy’s slower processing, there was something Kyle still liked about him. Granted, there were few Kyle found the time to dislike, but there was something familiar about him, something worth delaying a ‘korma sutra cook’ for. He could not pinpoint it, because Kyle was far from the psychoanalytical type, but it was there and was hopefully worth the effort. Maybe it was Rachel’s desire to help people rubbing off on him. She would definitely be having a field day with this guy. But maybe it was something more. A deeper seeded need for deliverance from the poorly executed attempt at redemption years before. He was not planning to bog the guy down with his woes, never spoke about it in the first place, but what was one evening to give up for someone else?
[white]“No worries, that’s what we took Abduhl the Cabana Boy in for. More limber than me anyway. Don’t know how I feel about my wife messing about with anyone else, an underaged kid no less, but it keeps her in practice for our swinger parties. Not inclined to invite you though, sorry. Guy like you, I might never see the old ball and chain again. Has a thing for those clean, youthful faces, see, and I’m getting too old for her taste. Holding my own though. She’s a right hag, sooner get a guy like you with a bag over her head. Has the cutest dimples this side of the hemisphere though, I’ll tell you that. Definitely puts a good end to a long workday to see that smile. Should just leave you here, come to think of it. You’ve got potential kid, but you’re definitely not my type. Someone else is thinking a little differently though…”[/white] Kyle had been keeping his eyes on Riley, but he then looked up, the first indication that there was interest progressively finding her way over his shoulder.
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Post by brooke on Apr 13, 2011 18:49:53 GMT -5
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[white]“He won’t care. Just watch. It’s a legitimate question.”[/white] After a long night of clubbing, so much booze that an Irish sailor would finally be taken down, and forgetting that she had broken the heel off her favourite pair of Jimmy Choos, Brooke was flying high and feeling pretty damned good. Which was probably exactly why her friend was trying to anchor her down and keep her from making an outright fool of herself right now.
[white] “No no, let me go. You’ll see. I’ll show you.”[/white] She managed to squirm her wrist out of her friend’s grasp. She was easily distracted on and off again, most successfully when her friend handed her the salt shaker and told her to take a shot of her orange juice, but Brooklyn had refocused her attention on one of the two guys to come into the restaurant. From the back of the head he did not look so clean cut that the San Francisco Castro would strap him down whether he was or wasn’t… actually, he was looking pretty good from that side too and it probably would make little difference, but when Brooke finally turned around in her seat and anchored her exposed knees in the cracked vinyl, she gripped the backrest and frowned silently for a moment.
Okay, with as much as that dude was talking at him he just had to be. No guy talked that much, right? Lips parted slightly with a blank expression, Brooke had just about forgotten why she had turned around in the first place by the time the other guy looked at her. Next to her, her friend was ducking and groaning about how embarrassing she was, but Brooke ignored her for favour of the guy who at least smiled at her. He couldn’t be all bad, right? Friendly enough.
Leaning over his shoulder, she asked bluntly. [white] “Hey, are you gay?”[/white] Immediately a sharp exclamation came from her right side and her friend fired off an apology before anyone had a chance to clear up his sexuality. [white] “What?! Who would opt to sit with another guy when he looks like this? I mean come on, I might as well not even bother if he is.”[/white] Turning her attention back, she let out an exasperated sigh and propped her elbows on the backrest beside him. [white] “I did spend all that time remembering my number and finding a pen. At least, I think that’s my number…”[/white] She said, uncertainly, turning slightly to grab a napkin off the table and look at the digits scrawled across in a slightly looser hand than she usually had.
And then, as though she had paused for anything longer than a moment, she thrust it into the front pocket of his over shirt. [white] “Oh yeah, that wasn’t mine. It was for you.”[/white] Falling back to a seated position, she looked to her friend with a frown. [white] “Wait… didn’t he ask me something?”[/white] Twisting back,[white] “What did you ask?”[/white]
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Post by riley on Apr 16, 2011 15:56:42 GMT -5
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Riley’s head was actually beginning to spin. It was bad enough that his head didn’t keep up with his eyes; that the world blurred when they flickered across the table to glance at the menu, or rather, the plate of pancakes photographed on the menu because now he thought about food, he really was hungry, but now he had another barrage of conversation to wade his way through, and he was pretty sure that on a normal day he wouldn’t understand half of it. Tonight however, the specks of meaning he managed to pull from the mass of dialogue made the man smile – mostly because he got the impression that whomever Kyle was talking about (he wasn’t sure whether it was this Abdul person or the korma cook) Kyle was somewhat attached to her. Him. And that the young man could appreciate.
Being as slow as he was that night, it took a moment for Riley to figure out what Kyle was referencing with his final words, and even then he didn’t notice the young woman at his side, asking a question that for a second just made him stare at her. Gay? Really? Did he honestly give off that vibe? Blinking, his mouth worked its way around the denial of this accusation slowly. ”Gay? I’m not gay... I like boobs!”and succeeded in sounding like a 12 year old being accused by his friends during a football match. Luckily for him, he’s been kinda quiet in his denial, and she wasn’t even looking at him so much as she was back at her friend.
Clearing his throat, he reiterated his denial with a straight face, this time leaving out the part about boobs, and picked up his coffee, trying for all the world to look cool and sophisticated as the dark liquid slopped over the side and onto his hand. He took a sip and set it back on the table, deciding that maybe he wouldn’t pick that up again for a minute or so.
Blinking as the phone number was shoved into his pocket, Riley turned his head to watch the woman as she sunk back into the booth behind them. Turning his head to Kyle, Riley looked for all the world like a man who was well and truly out of his depth. What was it recently, and all these women who were so... forward? This was the man who’d known his girlfriend for four years before he asked her out, and had then done that only be way of a note shoved into her locker and a backup story of it being another friends April fool’s joke if she said no.
Still, the effect of the alcohol he had consumed was enough to tell the young man he should at least ask her name, and when she turned back he did just that, smiling a little. ”I asked if you had a name? ”
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