✔️The Greaser and the Skirtchaser [18+]

13. The Millionth Time Blake Got Arrested

TW: Alcoholism
After he snuck out of Vance's window, Blake was out with the usual suspects that night since he really had nothing better to do. What he wanted to do was call Ashley, but she wasn't available on weeknights. He knew she wouldn't pick up, but he was almost tempted to try anyway because this wasn't all that interesting.

Seriously, these guys were just slingshotting rocks at empty tin cans out behind the hardware store. Blake watched the guys from on top of the dumpster of the alleyway. It wasn't that gross; ever since the donut shop closed, the dumpster hadn't seen any trash in about a decade. It actually made a good hiding spot if Blake was getting chased this way.

"Aaand steer-ike!" Petey was off tooting his own horn about his admittedly better than average aim until he looked up at Blake who was lighting a smoke. "Still too good for us, Coleman?"

"Yep." Blake flicked out his match and pocketed it. He let out a thin stream of smoke and hummed the first few verses of that song on the radio he kept hearing over and over.

"Huh. You're finally in a good mood for once." Petey hopped up on the empty wooden produce crates next to the dumpster to get on it, too, but he was having some trouble since he didn't have as much experience getting into places he wasn't supposed to.

"Put your foot on the—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Petey crawled up, dignified as he could, and sat next to him. "What're you humming for? You and that Romano girl get somewhere?"

"Petey." Blake gave him this amused glance. "You couldn't tell I was kidding? You think I could get anywhere near one without getting hunted down?"

Petey turned all nonchalant. "Yeah, yeah, obviously. Then, what's your good news about? Ashley drop in again?"

Petey really cut to the quick when he wanted to annoy Blake. "No. I just went out on a joyride last Saturday."

"Oh yeah, your old man's bitchin' Buick? Say, let me drive it sometime." He leaned in a little too close. "I know some slick moves behind the wheel."

"I dunno, Petey. We'd have to ask my old man."

Petey winced. "Aw, come on, we don't have to let him know—"

"I'm sure he'd let you if he was in a good mood. Come on, let's go now and ask him if we can—"

"Nah, nah, we don't have to bother with all that. There's plenty o' fun down here. Maybe we could—maybe another day for that Buick, alright?" Petey scurried off pretty quick after that. 

The can shooting lasted pretty long until they ran out of targets, and Blake watched them argue about where to find more until someone got the bright idea to start shooting at a nest that a pigeon was roosting in under an awning. He told them that idea was stupid as hell, but they mostly just got more stubborn at that, so Blake decided to jump down into the alley with them.

He looked up at the pigeon under the awning of the abandoned donut shop, just minding its goddamn business until this pack of dumb animals came into its alley. Blake turned to Petey. "Hey, let me have a crack at it."

"You actually wanna shoot?" Petey tossed him the slingshot, eager to see if Blake was any good and more importantly, any better than him.

"Yep." Blake loaded the slingshot with a pebble. He launched it right through the glass window in the door of the abandoned donut shop. The glass just about exploded everywhere, and it was all loud as hell.

The guys went into a big scramble since someone must have heard that, and all of them were pissed with Blake, but they didn't have time to lay into him since they needed to scatter quick. Petey whirled on him. "Hey, what's wrong with you, Coleman? Your first shot, and it's into a window?"