over again. He caught sight of Jay's '87 Accord trundling down the road. The blatant distaste on some of the ticket holder's faces as the bumper sticker swaddled heap chugged to a noisy stop in front of the valet booth made him laugh out loud. Much to the guy's credit, the valet smiled openly and took the keys with the sort of glowing enthusiasm most people reserved for finding money in the street.
Sio waded through the electric current in the night air to the sidewalk in front of the infamous theater. He saw Rachel dart out of the backseat, putting as much distance between herself and the offending vehicle as possible until it was safely out of sight around the corner. She ignored both Jay and Bren, tottering on unfathomably high heels, and checking on the ten pounds of make-up spackled to her orange skin. Some date.
"The Accord's looking good," Sio said. "I'm pretty sure I caught a flash of paint under all those slogans."
Jay jumped. "Damn, man, what are you moonlighting as a cat burglar now? You scared the crap out of me," he swore, clutching his chest in mock horror. The thin blonde wisps of his baby fine hair stuck out in unplanned disarray. He was wearing a white button down, probably because Bren had threatened him, but underneath was the "Snakes on an Incline Plane" T-shirt Sio had gotten him for his thirtieth birthday.
Brenwyn, Jay's leggy goth, laughed and added, "It must be the Big Bastard Cloaking Device. How are you Sio?"
"Ready to have my life altered," he told her.
"I can so handle that." Rachel's southern California drawl whined around him as she clacked up and grabbed his ass. Handsy. Sio forced down the initial revulsion and played nice.
"Looks like you're handling a lot more than life alterations," Jay said.
"Hi, Rachel. It's been a while." A muscle twitched in Sio's jaw as he removed Rachel's hands from his goods. He hoped that came out polite as opposed to interested, but odds were she'd already started dubbing over him.
"What happened to your face?" Rachel asked, eyeing his damage.
"Car accident," he lied.
"Don't front," Jay said. "It's not your fault you got worked for your lunch money."
"We never blame the victim," Bren chimed in, patting his arm. Sio laughed.
"It looks sexy. Like you got into a fight or something," Rachel said. "You guys are going to love this. I've heard it's really hot."
Again with the pointed stares.
"And here I thought I'd been tricked into that pesky culture thing," Jay quipped, barging into Rachel's line of sight.
Bren shook her head, "I don't know what you're crying for. Your culture involves a five course meal."
"Are you calling me a fat kid?"
"Hey, my inner fat kid's in convulsions already," Sio said after seeing the feigned affront on Jay's goofy mug. "I think he needs a drink."
"Excuse me."
A middle aged woman in an expensive looking coat and horn rimmed glasses ran a hand down Sio's left bicep. "Excuse me, you look familiar; are you part of the show?"
Sio countered the urge to move away by easing an arm around her. What was entertainment for one more? Before he could figure out how to answer, Rachel piped up.
"My boyfriend's only show is going to be for me later tonight."
Worse, that was definitely worse. The woman flushed with embarrassment and began to stutter an apology.
"Actually," he interrupted, "My date wouldn't want to see the show either. I have the internal rhythm of an epileptic gibbon. It ain't pretty." He held up three fingers and added, "Scouts honor."
The woman flushed again and Bren jumped in to smooth the situation further. "He really does. Two left feet, you know? It's kinda sad."
"Totally pathetic," Jay added.
"Your package is pathetic, smart guy."
The woman in the horn rimmed glasses drifted back towards her own group, no doubt impressed by his rapier wit and incredible maturity. None of that mattered, however, because seconds later a compartment swung open in the door with a high pitched squeal and commanded everyone's
Sio waded through the electric current in the night air to the sidewalk in front of the infamous theater. He saw Rachel dart out of the backseat, putting as much distance between herself and the offending vehicle as possible until it was safely out of sight around the corner. She ignored both Jay and Bren, tottering on unfathomably high heels, and checking on the ten pounds of make-up spackled to her orange skin. Some date.
"The Accord's looking good," Sio said. "I'm pretty sure I caught a flash of paint under all those slogans."
Jay jumped. "Damn, man, what are you moonlighting as a cat burglar now? You scared the crap out of me," he swore, clutching his chest in mock horror. The thin blonde wisps of his baby fine hair stuck out in unplanned disarray. He was wearing a white button down, probably because Bren had threatened him, but underneath was the "Snakes on an Incline Plane" T-shirt Sio had gotten him for his thirtieth birthday.
Brenwyn, Jay's leggy goth, laughed and added, "It must be the Big Bastard Cloaking Device. How are you Sio?"
"Ready to have my life altered," he told her.
"I can so handle that." Rachel's southern California drawl whined around him as she clacked up and grabbed his ass. Handsy. Sio forced down the initial revulsion and played nice.
"Looks like you're handling a lot more than life alterations," Jay said.
"Hi, Rachel. It's been a while." A muscle twitched in Sio's jaw as he removed Rachel's hands from his goods. He hoped that came out polite as opposed to interested, but odds were she'd already started dubbing over him.
"What happened to your face?" Rachel asked, eyeing his damage.
"Car accident," he lied.
"Don't front," Jay said. "It's not your fault you got worked for your lunch money."
"We never blame the victim," Bren chimed in, patting his arm. Sio laughed.
"It looks sexy. Like you got into a fight or something," Rachel said. "You guys are going to love this. I've heard it's really hot."
Again with the pointed stares.
"And here I thought I'd been tricked into that pesky culture thing," Jay quipped, barging into Rachel's line of sight.
Bren shook her head, "I don't know what you're crying for. Your culture involves a five course meal."
"Are you calling me a fat kid?"
"Hey, my inner fat kid's in convulsions already," Sio said after seeing the feigned affront on Jay's goofy mug. "I think he needs a drink."
"Excuse me."
A middle aged woman in an expensive looking coat and horn rimmed glasses ran a hand down Sio's left bicep. "Excuse me, you look familiar; are you part of the show?"
Sio countered the urge to move away by easing an arm around her. What was entertainment for one more? Before he could figure out how to answer, Rachel piped up.
"My boyfriend's only show is going to be for me later tonight."
Worse, that was definitely worse. The woman flushed with embarrassment and began to stutter an apology.
"Actually," he interrupted, "My date wouldn't want to see the show either. I have the internal rhythm of an epileptic gibbon. It ain't pretty." He held up three fingers and added, "Scouts honor."
The woman flushed again and Bren jumped in to smooth the situation further. "He really does. Two left feet, you know? It's kinda sad."
"Totally pathetic," Jay added.
"Your package is pathetic, smart guy."
The woman in the horn rimmed glasses drifted back towards her own group, no doubt impressed by his rapier wit and incredible maturity. None of that mattered, however, because seconds later a compartment swung open in the door with a high pitched squeal and commanded everyone's
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