Wild One

Chapter 45

A/N: This chapter begins as a flashback from the period of time where Sean was working with Derrick and his inner crew before he and Tallulah did the humpity jumpity. 😉

Tallulah's POV 16-years-old

"I seriously don't fucking get it, Rico. Why the fuck does Derrick hang out with him? He's a fucking stuck up asshole who thinks he's better than everyone else just because he's from the other side," I quietly rant as we move toward the office door.

"He's obviously not that stuck up or he wouldn't hang out with Rick and the guys from your side all the time," Jericho responds just above a whisper. "Gimme the screwdriver."

"Probably no one over there could stand him anymore and that's why he's over here," I say as I hand him the tool he requested. "He's insufferable and I wish he'd disappear."

"I couldn't tell given that you haven't stopped talking about him all night," Jericho quips wryly as he jams the driver into the lock and I bristle while I hand him the small mallet so he can drive it in and bust the mechanism.

"I'm talking shit, not writing poetry," I growl.

"If you say so," Jericho says nonchalantly as the door swings open and he walks over to the VCR on the desk to remove the tape. "Should we just take the whole console?" He asks as he snaps the tape in half on the corner of the desk and hands it to me so I can stuff it into his duffel bag.

"May as well if you have a buyer...I don't care, I just wanted some french fries," I say with a shrug as I pull the mask off my head and stuff it into my bag along with the security tape and the tools we used to get into the McDonald's after hours, my stomach rumbling in anticipation.

"I'm gonna go start up the fryers," I add as I turn back to the kitchen. "When you get the fries out of the freezer grab some nuggets, too- Oh, and see if they have any tartar sauce."

Tartar sauce and french fries is the best.

"Check it out, the McRib is back!" Jericho calls from the back.

"Sweet, dude- we should grab a case so we can just make them at home."

"Where you gonna keep em- you don't have a fridge," Jericho says as he carries the requested items out and drops them onto the counter.

We both simultaneously fall into a crouch when headlights pass through the parking lot- probably someone checking to see if the restaurant is open since the one across town is open 24 hours now. "I'll keep them at Fifth Street," I murmur in response while we wait for the lights to disappear.

"Neil said you can't keep your stolen shit there anymore after he had to explain the Arby's horseradish to the health inspector," he says as we stand in unison when the headlights disappear down the road.

"Emmett will let me," I shrug, getting my hands wet and flicking water into the oil and smiling when it sizzles and splatters, indicating that it's ready to cook in. "And we'll just put them in a different box and hide them under something."

"You're so fucking spoiled," Jericho says while pouring some fries into the basket and carefully dropping it into the oil, filling the air with the satisfying aroma of fried potatoes and MSG. "Like a little princess."

"Don't call me that- that's what that twat waffle calls me," I grumble as I hand him the nuggets.

"It's kind of accurate," he says with a smile.

"I'll kill you and leave your body in the freezer and no one will believe it was me," I warn coldly.

"Who would help you get your McRibs back to the bar?" He ponders, dropping the nuggets into the oil.