T⃨u⃨r⃨n⃨ O⃨n⃨ T⃨h⃨e⃨ N⃨i⃨g⃨h⃨t⃨ | The Lost Boys

C⃨H⃨A⃨P⃨T⃨E⃨R⃨ F⃨O⃨U⃨R⃨

⚠️Warnings: mild harassment, mind controll⚠️

I would live a happy and fulfilled life if I never had to come face to face with another rude customer. From an older woman complaining about cheese being on their cheese toastie to a seventy year old man attempting to flirt by saying how I resembled his deceased , I had enough.

The interview I'd prepped for all morning turned out to be nothing short of a disaster. There wasn't even an ounce of time to ponder over my unusual dream. I'd barely stepped foot inside the cafe before a portly older man had tossed a stained shirt at my chest. He'd grunted once, shucked his head to the left, and abandoned me at the cash register for the foreseeable future.

I caught Laddie's eye as me took over, sending him a dark grimace that he chuckled at before settling into an open booth.

By the time your shift  ended, I'd been introduced to the finest Santa Carla had to offer. People of all shapes and sizes filtered in and out of the aptly named "Seaside's Snacks", tossing me their spare change in a brief mockery of a tip before drowning themselves in the grease pits they called burgers.

At least I got paid on cash.

"70 bucks," I folded the bills over before tucking them into the lip of my combat boot, "Not bad, huh? Few more days of this and we'll be set."

Laddie scrunched his nose in distaste, his feet dangling off the pier as he bit into a fry, "I dunno if the smell's worth it. You stink, mom."

"I know," I looked down at my T-shirt that was now spotted with food satins. "I think we need to get back to the van before we go back into the boardwalk, bud."

Laddie shrugged, tilting his head back to look up at me, "I wanna play that new Pac-Man game."

Holding out a hand for my son, I dragged him to his feet with a chuckle, "We've got all the time in the world, little man. It's barely seven."

Laddie didn't seem to agree with my assessment. His hair swung wildly in his face as he argued, "Nah uh! Yesterday, it was sooo crowded! The older kids take up all the chairs and they never share—"

I nodded along, his voice fading in one ear and out the other as I steered mg little family through the growing crowd. It wasn't yet prime time for the boardwalk, but the sun had set behind the horizon and the people were starting to get rowdier. Other families had already vacated and I noticed with a vague sense of discontent that Laddie was one of the youngest kids hanging around.

Against my better judgment, I allowed my eyes to trail over the crowd. Most of the stares you met felt harmless, but as I walked further inland, the boardwalk grew darker and smoke filled the air headily. The earlier curious stares began to morph into leers and out of caution, I gradually tucked Laddie deeper into my side.

"And they're so bossy—" Laddie's voice abruptly petered off as a motorcycle roared. His little head tilted over his shoulder before he pointed, "Hey, mom! It's that Dewayne guy."

My steps paused as I followed the direction of his finger. Down an offshoot of the main boardwalk path, you spotted the familiar figure as he leaned against his motorcycle. The area around him was drenched in shadows due to the yellow light of a nearby streetlamp, but I could clearly see his figure as well as three others that surrounded him. Despite my better judgment, a little thrill cascaded down my spine.

"Dwayne," I corrected off-handedly, watching the way the four men laughed together. The shortest one said something to one of the others before he danced out of the way of a swinging fist, "And don't go around pointing at people, it's rude."

Laddie sighed, "It's not like they can see me."

"Well, I can," I shot my son a dry look, turning my back on the violent show of camaraderie, "I say it's rude."