On the Run, M Zeigler [you can read anyone txt] 📗

looking at the six buildings that are on the left side of the street, one of which being a liquor store and grocery mart I plan to check out later. “This place is nicer than your town though, people are friendlier to.” Barrette informs, I look back at him confused as to how he would know about that hellish void I used to call home.

“I did a concert two cities away from where you live, so I stopped by to try and find you. The only thing we had on you was that you lived in a trailer park and that your IP address was listed from Mission San Miguel.” Barrette confesses, I nod in understanding just as he’s making a right turn down a dirt road. Up ahead nestled way back under the trees is a house with Barrette’s tour bus parked in the lot out in front but off to the right. I can still see the house and everyone standing outside having what appears to be a little party.

My first thought is that it’s a bad idea to have his bus parked there; it’s a calling card to know exactly where Barrette is. But then again everyone here already knows where Barrette lives, and let’s be honest where exactly can you hide a black red and odd colored grey tour bus?

“Looks like everyone is at my mother’s house.” Barrette says then frowns, I know what he’s thinking, everyone is there except Chelsea.

Looking at the people standing on the paint chipped front porch, I see that the remaining people from his band crew are there. And a short choppy haired blonde, middle aged but still has that gorgeous southern bell look about her, without a doubt I know that she is Barrette’s mother, she just has that same confident look about her that Barrette holds.

Then there is a petite brunette with green eyes and the gentlest smile you’ve ever put eyes on; she’s leaning against the banister to the far right of the porch. Her skin is lightly tanned with freckles here and there giving her a unique physical accent, she’s a few inches shorter than I am and looks to be an all around better person than me as well.

Once the car has stopped Barrette cuts the engine and steps out with me not much further behind wearing my now mostly clean leather pants and a black tank top to match. I only mention my biker boot and leather clad attire because everyone standing at the door is wearing clothes that are appropriate for this southern setting. Western boots on the men and women, the men are wearing jeans and old t shirts, then Barrette’s mother, and the brunette are wearing knee length cotton dresses talking pleasantly between each other.

 Then there is me, wearing men’s size nine biker boots that have buckles at the ankle, a pair of low riding skin tight black leather pants, a see through cut off black tank top with a blood red bra showing from underneath, the top exposes my entire mid section and a tattoo on my right hip that is a goofy faced skull with a raven sitting on its head mouth open holding a purple ribbon in its beak. The ribbon signifies domestic violence awareness, if that’s not strange enough for you I had the artist write I’d do it again in blood looking letter on the ribbon.  To top things off my hair is pulled up high in a pony tail with a black leather bow that has spikes studding the material. Now that I look human and have makeup on you can tell I’m more of a biker boys dream than I am a small town girl’s best friend.

Approaching the porch everyone except the brunette makes it very clear that I’m the odd man out when all eyes fall on me, jaw’s go slack, and the blonde frowns clearly disgusted by my appearance. The middle aged blonde without a doubt has to be Barrette’s mother, and every mother thinks that no woman is good enough for their son, and honestly I probably fail that test more than any woman before me.

What’s worse, it’s not even a test that I applied to take! “Hi! You must be Bonnie Parker.” The kindly Brunette says trying to keep her voice at a down low since the locals over in town are looking this way as well as the neighbors whose houses dot the land nearby.

“Yes, and miss Bonnie needs to getting inside now.” Barrette says looking over his shoulder to where I can hear the police car rolling into the drive.

“Again? I thought these days were over, Barrette.” His mother says in a hurt voice. “Momma please go on inside, I did wrong, I’ll answer for what I’ve done.” Barrette replies trying to be sympathetic yet stern.

“She should be the one answering this visit.” His mother says hatefully  giving me an equally heinous glare as she stomps into the house not even bothering to wipe the mud off her boots.

“Uh oh, okay, come on.” The brunette says to me when she glances over to see the police car coming to a stop. This unusually accepting woman takes hold of my wrist and all but drags me into the house, she may look tiny and weak but she is far from either. When I’m inside the house I run over to the nearest open window and duck down behind the cover of the curtains. 

“I’m Heather Jones.” The brunette introuces when the officer stops talking to let Barrette answer whatever he just asked.

“Bonnie Parker.” I reply with a hushed whisper when I hear Barrette ask the officer what is going on. “Nice to meet you. Barrette says you’re a real good person.” Heather manages out before the officer confronts Barrette on the problem. I send my sights to the living room where I see his mother standing by the other open window with her arms crossed also watching and listening to Barrette.

“Hoss, I thought you done learned your lesson by now? You can’t be driving around like that, you could have killed someone. Now I know you have Bonnie Parker in there, Marcus gave us the inside scoop but that doesn’t mean I won’t arrest you for reckless driving.” The officer says to Barrette who sighs. “I know that Montgomery, I didn’t suspect anyone was on that road, especially not an officer.” Barrette replies hinting at the fact he wouldn’t have been driving like that if he thought there was a cop waiting to bust him or anyone else doing what we just did. “Barrette, you know you and I are good friends and our parents are good friends; I understand what is going on so I am not going to take you down town but if you mess up again.” Montgomery informs Barrette who hangs his head for a moment, the only reason he ran is because he knew that if the cop seen me I would’ve been arrested. Montgomery would have had no choice but to arrest both of us.

“Alright, you gotta do what you gotta do.” Barrette replies. “Why did you run, I know that girl is with you? I wouldn’t have arrested you I would’ve just lectured you, if she’s going to start getting you into trouble then you need to back away.” Montgomery continues to lecture Barrette who glares back at him.

“If your worried that I’m turning back towards my old ways then why don’t you just slap those cuffs on me. I wasn’t hurting anyone, it aint my fault ya’ll base the speed limit signs around the top speed of the most decrepit cars.” Barrette says back talking Montgomery whose eyes widen.

“Well if that is how you feel, then Barrette Green, you are hereby under arrest-

“WAIT!” I scream before the cop can finish reading Barrette his rights.  Both men standing outside look up as I dart out the front door. “I told him to run.” I say to Montgomery, he takes one look at me and let’s go of Barrette who was not going to resist arrest.

“Stay there.” Montgomery warns Barrette who gives an amused snort probably thinking back to the reason why this officer would feel the need to tell him to stay. “Why would you tell him to run?” The cop asks, I take a look at his badge that reads Sheriff Montgomery. “I don’t trust you pigs, just because a retired officer said we are safe don’t mean we are. Obviously.” I say beckoning to Barrette who has one hand cuffs hanging from his left wrist.

 “Why did you tell him to run?” Montgomery demands a second time, Barrette looks directly at me waiting for me to speak. “You didn’t, did you?” I hear Barrette’s mother ask from the front door. “I am not saying another word, if he goes down I go down with him, simple as that.” I announce crossing my arms over my chest, Montgomery looks at Barrette then back to me. “Barrette, off the record here you do realize that she is wanted for three murders and a string of other criminal charges? You can get off the hook, they’ll believe it when you say she had you as a hostage.” Montgomery says to Barrette who nods that he knows that already.

“You know something the police don’t know, right?” Montgomery prompts. “Both of us do, that’ why we ran from orange county. I knew pulling over meant that Sheriff Briggs would arrest her because I was speeding, and if she goes down then more people die.” Barrette confesses, Montgomery looks at me and heaves a sigh.

 “Alright you two, here’s the deal.” Montgomery says taking a seat on the edge of the porch banister. “I’m a man of the law, and I pride myself in following the law book. But I know how Barrette has straightened up, so heres what I’m going to do, you two are going to finish up whatever business you have here as quickly as you can. And Miss. Parker, you might want this, it could be useful.” Montgomery says as he corrects his stance so he is standing straight, he then hands me a paper from his back pocket. 

With the warning issued Montgomery walks to Barrette to unlock the handcuff,  as for me I open up what appears to be a news paper article. On the front cover of the news page is my picture taken in the same exact fashion as one of my Grandmothers front page pictures. The title reads, Bonnie Parker lives again! Reading into the article I am said to be extremely armed and dangerous, I hold no remorse for shooting those two men and that if I’m spotted I should not be approached. At the bottom of the page I see that Devon Morgan is the one who paid for the article to be printed.

“Thank you, this does help.” I say just as my phone starts to ring from my back pocket, I pull it out to silence it when I see that the screen reads Morgan. “Devon?” I answer the phone with seething anger. “Check mate Cousin, what is your next move?” I hear Devon say. “You piece of-

“Ah-ah, I wouldn’t get to rude, otherwise pretty boy might get hurt.” Devon’s voice interrupts my anger, I look back at Barrette only to see a red dot focused on his chest. Without hesitating or thinking I throw my phone and tackle  Barrette over the banister to the ground below.  Just as we are falling towards the ground a gunshot rings out into the air narrowly missing my shoulder. Everyone currently on the porch hits the deck. Montgomery dives into the bushes and pulls his gun out to see who fired the shots and if this is going to be a shootout. Rolling over onto my back to face the road I see a Black Jaguar sports coupe of some kind speeding off towards the freeway.

I look to Barrette and take a