You ready for that beer?

Bon-Bon & Clydie

Still in the car, before we even meet the drug smugglers, Street comes up with the nastiest nickname for me.

"Do you wait for any particular shade of green, Bon-Bon?", he says as it takes me a split second to long for him to slam on the gas pedal.

Well, maybe I do react a little bit slow. But only because I'm so distracted by his hand, laying so close to mine on the clutch I can literally feel its warmth.

"Watch your tone, Clydie, for that I'm still the one behind the wheel."

In the corner of my eye, I see Street giving me a deep, meaningful glance. And at once I know that he won't call me by my real name again anytime soon and that this little word game just turned into a literal mocking war. All this comes to me in a second. It's almost as we can read each others minds.

I can't help but wonder if he can do this with Emilia, too.

That thought makes me pull my hand away from Street, accepting not being able to operate the clutch anymore. I don't understand this thing anyway, but Hondo had to insinst on giving us a nice old casual every-day-car. I mean: Casual, yes, but why does it have to be so old it still has a clutch? As a couple of drug dealers, shouldn't Clydie and I be more like ... prosperous?

Street snorts amused.

"Chris, now it's red again"

I let go off the wheel and lean back, closing my eyes. "Sorry."

"You okay?"

"Just a bit tired. But I'll be fully concentrated in that mission, trust me."

"I do", Street says quietly, and somehow his tone makes me open my eyes. His words seem to float in the air between us and find a way right under my skin.

God, I hate him. Well, not exactly him, but the way he always manages to do that. He gets closer to me then anyone ever, and worst thing is, I let him. That scares me.

I look away, put my hands back on the wheel and notice that it's green again.

I slam on the gas pedal. "Hold tight, Clydie, we're late"

✴✴✴

After meeting the gangster boss and the other smugglers, I'm exhausted and at the same time full with adrenaline. Tomorrow, the undercover mission will start completely; tomorrow, we will enter the cruise ship and then there won't be any going back.

For the night, Street and I crash at a shady hotel near to the harbour, so in case they follow us or supervise us in any other way, we won't lose our disguise. For the same reason (and because it was cheaper), we booked a suite with one double bed. Turning the key in the lock, I sincerely hope our room has a couch. I would even sleep on the floor, anything but having to share a bed with Street.

Turns out, there is a couch. But it seems to already have some residents.

"Dis-gus-ting"

Trying not to get such a close look at the huge black living things, bustling around in the cushions, I cross the room. I'm about to open the bedroom door when I notice Street's not behind me.

"Hey, what's the matter?", I yell back quietly.

"Ehhh ..." I can tell his nervousness by his voice. "This ... what is that?"

I chuckle. "You mean our little buddies over on the couch? Rats, I guess. Mice, if we're lucky."

"If we're lucky", Street echoes emphatically.

I try hard not to laugh. Really? Street - afraid of mice? Never would have thought that in my life. To be honest though, there are many things I wouldn't have expected from him. Guess he's full of surprises.

"Come on, they won't do you any harm", I say, grinning with inner contentment. "Besides, they're probably not even in the couch, anyway, but in the walls."

"Much better", he murmurs, but finally setting foot into the room and quickly coming after me. I give him one last wide grin, then I show mercy and grant him access to the (hopefully mice- and rat-free) bedroom.

At least that applies. Although, comfortable is not the best word to describe this bedroom, and neither is clean. Or bright. There is one tiny window out to the inner courtyard, from where the smell of weed comes up. The double bed is not as wide as you would think by the name and I begin to believe that the owners probably just wanted to make more money by selling this as a suite.

"So, who sleeps on the floor?", I ask, not eager to volunteer. Even in this half-light I can see enough of the floor to not want to sleep on it tonight.

Street sighs heavily. "Can someone remind me please why we had to take the shadiest hotel in whole L.A.?"

"Because we're on an undercover mission, you spoiled kid", I tell him directly and try not to imagine what the bathroom will look like. It doesn't work.

"I'm all for skipping teeth-brushing and avoiding to get to know too many members of that rat-mice-family", I suggest and try to find a clean spot in that blanket. Doesn't work, either. "And, maybe, avoiding to touch anything in here at all"

"Sounds great", Street agrees strongly. "I'm not gonna get a wink of sleep tonight, I tell you."

I'm thinking hard. "Well, at least it's a warm night", I say slowly. "We could just forget about the hotel and look for a nice spot behind some dumpsters."

Street laughs quietly. "Sounds romantic"

It's a shame he can't see me rolling my eyes at that.

"Well, it possibly wouldn't be that safe, though. And I don't wanna get stabbed in my sleep, you know?"

"Yeah ... wait a minute", Street seems to have spotted something and crosses the tiny room. "Did they say anything about a balcony here?"

"A balcony, to the inner courtyard", I say sarcastically. But then I see the light. "Hey, there's a roof terrace here, isn't there?"

Street smiles that special smile he always does, and for a moment, it takes me through place and time. I feel dizzy and wonder if I haven't drunk enough water again. Last thing I need is for me fainting in his arms again. Casually, I reach for the water bottle in my bagpack.

Street and I climb a tight stairway we both hit our heads in several times, until we are finally on the roof terrace. For such a shady place it's surprisingly beautiful. The starlight makes the ground sparkle and from up here the night is clearer and starrier then in the city center.

Neither Street nor I say anything, but we don't have to. We look at each other and can read the specialness of this moment in the other's eyes. I'm a little bit shocked as I realize now this has actually become romantic, not to say cheesy.

"Well, at least there don't seem to be any mice or rats up here", I nervously try to ease the situation. The atmosphere is more than pleasant - until it reminds me of a specific night weeks ago, when the tension between Street and me was just like now and it let to a huge mistake of which I don't know if it was that much of a mistake anymore because it didn't felt like one and we are still standing in that tight stairway and looking at each other and we are so horribly close and I can't anymore.

Almost running, I escape to the wide terrace. That's where I realize I've been holding my breath the whole time.

"Come on, let's crash here. You got a blanket with you, right?"

Giving me a strange look, Street comes after me and rummages in his bagpack. I couldn't feel more embarassed, but I try to cover it up by doing the same with my rucksack and taking sips of water although I'm not at all thirsty.

Running. All I ever do is run, run away from my problems. How do I fixt that?

I would give everything to work things out with Street. I miss him so much.

But it's too late now. Isn't it?