Written for the Friday Night Write challenge over at Sweet Banana Ink. The challenge: 1 song, 60 hours, 500 words, and the song this time around was the classic Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Credence Clearwater Revival.
Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Credence Clearwater Revival.
Have You Ever Seen the Rain
The door to the Zippy Mart flew open with a crash that Marco heard over the stereo he had blaring in the Mustang, even though Jake had told him to leave it off, to keep his wits about him.
“I’m wittier with music,” Marco had said, but Jake didn’t have much of a sense of humour. He did have a fearsome temper, though, so Marco had turned it off and waited till Jake was inside before cranking it up again.
He watched open mouthed as Jake careened out of the store, turned to look over his shoulder and crashed headlong into the old Dodge Rambler parked out front.
“Holy shit,” Marco whispered as Jake slammed a fist down on the hood of the Rambler hard enough to make the entire car bounce and came racing across the parking lot. He was yelling something at Marco and waving his arms like a crazy man, and for a moment Marco thought about starting the engine and driving off without him, because no way he wanted to be stuck in a confined space with Jake when he was in full-throttle tantrum mode. The thought of what Jake would do to him when he eventually caught up made him reconsider.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jake shrieked as he flung open the passenger door and leapt in. “Go! Go! Drive, you moron!”
Marco started the Mustang, slid her into reverse and paused, looking sideways at Jake, “Um. Dude? Seatbelt?”
“Fucking drive! And turn that stupid shit off!” Jake reached over, ripped the iPod out of the dock and flung it at Marco. “You never listen, do you? You never fucking listen.”
There was no reasoning with Jake when he was in one of his moods, so Marco ignored the seatbelt thing and
“So, hey. What happened in there? You get the cash?”
“Does it look like I got the damned cash? The asshole hit me with a baseball bat! A baseball bat! He jabbed me in the forehead with it,” Jake pulled back a handful of greasy hair and pointed at a purpling bruise, “and then he whacked me in the arm so hard I dropped the gun. God, why do I listen to you? This was supposed to be like taking candy from a baby. This was supposed to fix everything!”
Marco didn’t point out that there wouldn’t be anything to fix if Jake hadn’t gambled away the money Leo had fronted them for the blow. “You got the gun back, though, right? Leo’s going to kill me if I lose the gun. He’s going to kill both of us if we don’t come up with the money.”
“If you want the gun so badly, be my guest. Go back and get your head bashed in by that freaking lunatic in there. God, could this day get any worse?”
Marco glanced at the flashing blue lights in his rearview mirror.
Apparently it could.