OBLITERATE- The Ring of fire

25. Things go smoothly.

Kyle turned up from nowhere and asked, "Was that Noah?" Kyle asked, narrowing his eyes at Noah, who was walking away.

"Yeah," I said, and blood rushed to my face.

"What did he do to you?"

"You seriously think he can cause physical injury?"

"No, he can grate a good slice of cheese."

He stared out and kept a hand on his neck. "I was concerned, that's all." 

I could feel his gaze on me.

"Yeah, I know." I said. "You seriously don't have to do this,"

"Oh yeah?" Kyle asked. "I'll be interested to see Mike cracking a joke on your dad and probably waltzing around blowing bubbles."

Kyle sighed. "No thank you,"

Mike walked up to us, grinning widely. "You won't believe me." He said. "I talked to the guy in the cab store and I was like, 'Call me a taxi.' And he said, 'You're a taxi,'" He laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's hella good."

I couldn't laugh. I smiled, but my mouth won't crack a grin.

Mike looked at Kyle and then me. He straightened. "Okay," he nodded. He stood beside me and frowned- his eyebrows literally forming one crooked line. "So, this is supposed to be a serious moment. I get it,"

The taxi drove in front of us.

Mike said, "Ah, the eagle has landed!" and he skipped on.

The ride was two hours long. And in what seemed like one million years multiplied by another gazillion, we were at the Aviator centre.

"It's one in the morning," Kyle said, eyeing at the taxi driving off.

"Do you know why taxi drivers are broke?" Mike asked.

"Yes I know," Kyle said, but with a smile.

"Because they-"

"I said I know,"

The Aviator centre was locked up. A security guard was standing- more like swaying at the door.

"Oooo-kay," Mike whispered to me. "Is that guy dancing the polka?"

I laughed.

"Let's ask him," Kyle said.

The security guard was humming- a mix between the national anthem and the bohemian rhapsody. The entire scene was dark, and his pale face shone like a ghosts.

"Well, you're looking sober tonight," Kyle said.

The guard squinted. "What the-" he muttered. "Who-who the heck-are you?" he demanded, reaching out to his pockets- still off balance. The gun fastened on his waist, fell to the ground.

"Hello," Kyle held out his hand. "I am a piece of ham,"

Is he sober tonight?

"Oh," the guard chuckled. He waved a hand. "Okay!"

"Dude's drunk," Kyle whispered.

"Oh so, that was a test?" Mike asked.

Kyle blinked. "Do I look like ham to you?"

"But wait-" the guard bolted an index finger at me and Mike. "Who's this?"

"Let's not get to that," Kyle said. "Now," he walked to him.

"Hire me a plane- Peace Isles. Quick,"

The guard was almost falling asleep. He yawned.

I yawned.