Date’s with Lucas Baker involves take out McDonald’s and people watching in the parking lot of the local outlet mall. Lucas flicks his burger crumbs at you as you sit back in the passenger seat of his dad’s old Chevy and point out the flaws in passer-by’s. Weekends are packed with sales and free time for most young adults your age, so much so that the two of you have both made up a game of drawing life scenarios for those that caught your eyes. Today’s target was a rather husky built man, obviously from out of town and whose status is outside of the normal working class.
He’s wearing a nicely pressed gray suit with white secondary colors. His dark brown hair is smoothed back with a little too much product and his ascot is a country tie with a studded blue stone in the middle. He’s lady hunting, you can tell by the way he leans his hip against his five digit dollar Porsche and eyes up any passing females like a horny dog in a rut. You ask yourself: What’s a man with that much money doing in backwater Louisiana?
“Probably on some business trip.” You answer out loud, eyes drawn to the glimmer of a gold watch wrapped around his wrist. It’s probably worth more than your bike. You nudge Lucas’ knee with your own. “Betcha he’s a banker.”
An obnoxious slurping sound echos from Lucas’ empty drinking cup as he absentmindedly and loudly continues to milk it for everything it’s worth. He notices your irritated and twitching stare and when he does, he is nice enough to stop…And then start again just to spite you.
He quickly pulls the cup out of reach as you attempt to swat it, settling for slapping him playfully on the shoulder. He gives you a smartass grin and tosses the empty beverage towards the back seat. Licking off whatever flavor is still left of his lips, he points at Mr. Rich over the steering wheel.
“He’s probably cheatin’ on his wife with the hotel receptionist–” You snort as he continues further. “–Already got two kids with his happy wife an’ two more he don’t know about.”
“Bet he pokes holes in the condoms.”
“Betch’ya he don’t use ‘em at all–Or maybe he’s like one of ‘em Charlie Sheen ass-wipes.”
You make a face as Mr. Rich pulls out a phone from his pocket and feel compelled to dig out your own. You consider the cracked screen of your Android and look at Lucas with a hint of demand in your eyes. “I want his phone.” Lucas hums in affirmation, stealing a few of your fries from your lap as he get’s resettled into his seat.
“I want his watch.”
“The hell you gonna do with a Rolex watch?” He replies with a mouth full of food.
“Pawn it, duh.” You shake your head and take a drink from your chocolate milkshake.
“Gonna have to sell it online then. You know, Jerry’s already gotten suspicious of what all we’ve been bringin’ in.” You recall the balding Pawn Shop owner giving you odd looks over the counter as you lay down another wallet that isn’t yours. You can only tell him so many times that you’re cleaning out your ‘little brother’s room’ and how his ‘hoarding’ is a real problem.
“Jerry needs to mind his own damn business.” You nod in agreement, removing your drink’s lid and dipping the last few of your fries in the soft serve. “–But that’s fine, plenty of people online who don’t care where they get their shit from, just that they get it.” He gives you a disgusted look as you nibble on the condimented treat. You stick your tongue at him for his judgements.
Mr. Rich is getting in his car, giving up his babe hunt for the day. Lucas slides you a mischievous grin, raising up his brow in suggestion as he shows off those crooked canines and cigarette stained enamel. You smile back at him, already bagging up the scraps of your meal and reaching for your seat belt.
“Wanna play with ‘em?” Richy Rich starts the car and Lucas turns his key.
“Let’s see how the gators like the taste of that rich asshole.”