The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 13

Nothing is off limits. From sex to disgusting mishaps to nudity then
illegal activities. It was frightening... But oh so juicy. I might as well be watching an addictive reality show.

"Never have I ever sucked dick." Talk about straight forward and blunt delivery. I nudge Scout on purpose earning an painful jab of her elbow in my ribs.

"Never have I ever gotten an STD." To my surprise some down their glasses without hesitation.

"Never have I ever had a threesome." Scout drinks.

"I'm guessing that's where you kissed someone of the same sex?" I whisper.

"Mmhmm, you betcha." To be fair she is an ex Mormon with three years worth of freedom on me. The whole concept makes me wish I had done something remotely interesting in my life... or risque.

"Never have I ever..." Andy pipes up, fingering the lid of his open Corona, the group falls silent hanging onto his every word, "had a haircut." Bewildered faces look around as if searching for a camera or waiting for someone to say, "Haha, jokes." It doesn't happen.

"That's it?" A high pitch drunk asks, people mumble in agreement. I swig a quick sip hoping no one noticed but Andy's attention is on me when he holds the bottle to me in a silent toast replying, "That's it."

"Boring." Someone calls earning laughter throughout the circle. Even though he might've been a... dare I say, dick before I say 'thank you' in sign language. He responds in the same dialect surprising me and smirking with satisfaction to himself.

"Alright, alright never have I ever done something sexual while at the movies." He says dryly.

"Now your talking." Majority of those present salute each other then drink up.

Woo, woo

The unnerving flash of red and blue lights shatters the lighthearted atmosphere into oblivion. I've never seen a collaborative group of drunks move so fast in all directions I almost expected a sonic boom to occur.

*

In the commotion Scout and I are separated briefly only to be reunited by an unexpected stranger.

"Thanks, err--"

"Jake." He replies huffing, his bandana slightly askew.

His arms are decorated in inked sleeve art barely leaving a section of skin unmarked. Way more than Andy has. "Come on, I got a ride but it's a few minutes walk."

"Police! Don't move!" Some party goers close range of the policemen are tasered adding to the increasing chaos.

"Fuck that, if we run fast enough we can make it there in half the time, or less." Together we nod in agreement.

Jake expertly leads our small crew of misfits through a specific path in the dunes, while calling over his shoulder, "Dig your toes in the sand, it helps you run up the hills quicker." His advice proves useful as we sprint up an angled slope without fault.

Scout's strappy heels swing on her tattooed wrist flicking sand grains backward, blinding me momentarily. Some have been caught already but the amount still evading Police drastically outweighs those in their custody.

Revving engines echo in the night evoked from recently ignited engines, "Hey mister Officer, sir, what's black and always in the back of a police car?" A grey beanied guy yells out the window passing a uniformed African man.

"You delinquent!"

"The seat, you racist!" He howls maniacally joined by the other passengers.

They are the perfect example of what happens when you're high and drunk. The cop fights the urge to laugh slowing to a jog, he loses the car in a puff of black exhaust fumes.

"Boy--"

I nearly slip when Chris hooks me by Andy's vest, his hand almost grazing my nude bra as he heaves me along. "Thank you."

"You couldn't have parked closer?" Scout complains taking the front, Jake and I fall in line after her keeping to a fast, zigzag pace hoping to throw off the ones on foot. "Well, this was an illegal gathering so naturally I hatched a plan B."

"It was?" I ask coming across more high pitched than I wanted. He shrugs in apology returning to lead us now on concrete ground but I'm unable to shake the wet sand populating my converse.

Majority of the police retreat at this point except for a stubborn select few, others resort to their Police vehicles. "It's the Dodge Charger." He notifies us.

"Which year and model?"

"Who cares Tris, move your ass! The one next to the light pole?" Scouts question is answered by his thumbs up. A mere meter from the hood, thick red stripe illuminated by the setting moon. It's headlights click on and the inside comes to life bustling with strangers who cheer as they drive off.

"What the f-"