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

reason to do so. However, Georgia, Barrette’s home state does still have the death penalty, and the country star has a concert coming up in two weeks back home at the Christonville convention center. So he is saying we should lead Devon back to Georgia before we capture him, with all the criminal charges against him and murders hung solely on his head, there is no judge that wouldn’t put the death penalty on Devon’s head.

“We are FBI now, wicked.” Barrette chuckles entirely missing what Rodney just unlawfully suggested we do, Heather gives Barrette a cat call.

“And the Parker gang is working for the government once again!” Anna exclaims merrily, Barrette looks at Heather who nods towards the front door. “Don’t worry I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe here with Jack and Alex, get going you two have a criminal to catch.” Heather says with a sweet smile on her face as she looks at Jack who gives a heavy sigh knowing that Heather is going to be residing in my room for the next two weeks or longer.

 Barrette suddenly leaps to his feet and does his signature dance move that I’ve only seen him do one other time and that was when we were leaving a gas station back in Savannah Georgia, he was goofing around because he won ten bucks on a scratcher. He gives a loud howl showing his excitement, both fists lunge to the air and he gives a little hip thrust. “Good grief.” I sigh thoroughly irritated with the childish behavior going on in this room.

“Bonnie, before you head out I want to show you something so find me before you leave?” My dad says as I shake my head agreeing while walking away trying to  telling myself not to tease Barrette over his childish antics mostly because I’m a whole lot worse when it’s not a hangover Saturday.

“Bon?” I hear Barrette’s voice outside the bathroom door four minutes after leaving the room. “Yes?” I call back as I’m stepping into the hot spray of water that might I say I’m beyond grateful for. “Do you want me to pack a suit case for you?” He replies with a weary tone, almost as if he thinks I’m no longer okay with him packing my bag anymore.

“Sure if you don’t mind and have time to do so, but leave it open I have a few things I need to dig out of my closet.” I respond reaching up for my favorite hair product bottle, I’m so excited to be home and have a real shower instead of taking one in a questionable hotel bathroom in an even shadier part of town. Barrette’s retreating foot steps are somewhat of a relief to me, I can actually enjoy quiet time and the hot shower, I’m also able to really think about the choice that I just made to join the FBI. I’m genuinely curious as to whether it’s like the movies where special operations officers are sent out on highly elite missions that are super top secret. At the same time I’m increasingly nervous, if they send me to a training academy I might as well give up my badge, I was terrible in school. It’s amazing I even passed high school! To this day I cannot name all fifty states, I usually don’t remember state capitols, I can’t do basic math and my science knowledge is not something to be desired. The only thing that I know that falls into the science category is chemicals, I know what chemicals to mix together to make explosives.

Forty five minutes after I get into the shower I’m exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me mentally grumbling about how poor this house is for room placement! In order to get from any one room to the shower you have to walk through the kitchen. Meaning that I am essentially walking through the kitchen dripping wet, water ruins the hardwood floors, and honestly I’m very much not okay with walking through the kitchen without clothes on! After dodging around the bar counter separating the kitchen and the dining room I find the stairway leading up to my room still grumbling about the awkwardness this blasted house leaves you in because I also have to walk through the dining room wearing only a towel.

Inside the room I’m slightly peeved to find that Anna is standing there talking to Barrette who is throwing a handful of my favorite shirts into the suitcase. He already has thrown the unmentionables into the side pockets; looking to the larger portion of my duffel I see that many pairs of leather pants are ready to hit the road with me.  Apparently he doesn’t really like me wearing jeans because I have more denim than I do leather yet he has chosen every pair of leather attire that I own.

“I have jeans you know?” I inform Barrette as I wrench open the temperamental middle drawer to expose the many pairs of jeans that I own. “I know, but every bad girl movie star wears leather. That’s just how it’s done.” Barrette says with his sarcastic southern drawl. “Right, that’s the only reason you packed every pair of one size to small leather pants for Bonnie to wear.” Anna remarks, with her acerbic tone lingering in the room she walks out as if nothing she said was wrong or inappropriate.

“And I thought you were the acidic one.” Barrette scoffs as I walk over to my closet to find something to wear for the day that is comfortable when traveling on the road for long hours at a time. “Barrette, you have thirty seconds to exit the room or I drop the towel. You know I don’t care that your standing in here.” I warn Barrette who immediately jumps to attention and abandons a pair of jeans on the dresser top so he can book it out of the room.

“Works every time.” I sigh with an adorable charm to my voice. “Bonnie?” My father’s voice is at the door only seconds later proving to aggravate me thoroughly. Why is it everyone around me has to be so annoying?

 “What?” I growl turning to face the door more than likely resembling an angry cat; Jack steps up on the landing outside my room holding up some clothing I haven’t seen before in anyone’s closet. It’s a uniform of some kind that has dry cleaners plastic draped over making it hard to distinguish what I’m seeing.

“I kind of knew that Rodney was going to offer you a badge, so I went out and had this cleaned. It’s one of my uniforms, it might be a little bit big on you but it will work until you order a uniform of your own.” My dad says handing me the plastic covered uniform though I cannot reach it from where I stand across the room. From what I can make out under the plastic the uniform is not a flashy suit like Rodney was wearing; in fact it looks more like a swat team combat uniform than it does anything else which is fine by me because I don’t do glamour very well.

“Thanks, I’ll uh….yeah just leave it there.” I nod awkwardly to the desk, my dad being the type of father that doesn’t really know what to say reaches through my bedroom door frame to drape the uniform over the back of the chair at my desk. “Good luck, kid, do me proud.” Jack says before vanishing from the room, once he leaves I walk over and close my bedroom door this time locking it to prevent further intrusion.

With the door locked and silence all around I reach to the small boom box sitting on the dresser and turn it on to the mixed CD that starts humming Miranda Lambert’s Old Stuff. It’s one of a few songs that really permit my grandfather’s memory to my mind. Memories that are so faded I wonder if these moment actually happened or if my mind has conjured them up to help dull the pain of a man I know I was very close to and held near to my heart.

After slipping into my undergarments I pull on a plain black tank top then shrug into the jacket, then I fasten the combat pants to my thick frame, the final touch to clothes is the belt that was wrapped around the hanger. The uniform fits perfectly and honestly feels right; I feel like this is what I was destined to do with my life. Finally, I grab my brush and yank my hair up into a bun making the mental note to buy some black dye to hide my red blonde roots that are starting to show.

Before looking back to the full length mirror I pull on the pair of normal combat boots that I generally wear when I go out dirt bike riding. When I’m officially dressed and ready to walk out I take a look in the mirror, my heart warms when I see my appearance. I look like the female version of my father and grandfather; everyone has always told me that I look like my father who looks like my grandfather; wearing this uniform I finally believe what I’ve been told about my appearance. Hanging beside the mirror is the last picture that was taken with my mom, my dad, my grandfather and his late wife Caroline before the family broke apart; it was taken well before my grandfather ended up wheel chair bound. My grandfather stands wearing a uniform identical to the one I’m wearing, he holds me in his arms smiling down at me as if I was the greatest child in the world. My father stands to the left of gramps wearing his military uniform with my mother hanging on his arm looking happy as can be, Caroline just stands there with her normal goofy demeanor beaming a white toothy smile at whoever is taking the picture.

There’s a light knock at the door that brings me back around to the present instead of reminiscing on the good times, at least the times I can still remember.

“Bonnie?” I hear Barrette’s voice outside the door; with a deep sigh feeling a little bit of grief as I remember those days I turn for the door and open it. “Let’s go.” I say as I brush by giving him no chance to rush me. Barrette hesitates a moment but eventually makes his way down the stairs just as I’m grabbing the keys to the Camero from the dining room table. Looking back to the stairs I see Barrette standing there with a longing look in his eyes as he looks down at me. I pretend not to notice, at this point in the game I more than realize I am in love with Barrette Green, but I do not wish to be selfish and stay in his life long enough to destroy it further than I already have. Instead of facing Barrette a moment longer I turn for the living room hoping to reach the door before Barrette catches up.

“Whoa, hang on kid.” I hear my dad say from his normal place in the recliner, looking around the living room I see that my sisters and Heather are all sitting on the white, and beige floral patterned couch ahead of me on the right side of the living room looking at one of the many guns that are always present in the house. “I thought California outlawed all semi automatic riffles?” Heather mentions while pointing to an AR-15.  Jack grunts, groans and garbles with the effort to get out of his chair, but he does finally manage to stand up looking a bit winded with the effort to move. “I’m getting to old for this.” He finally heaves out when he’s fully balanced on his feet.

“Oh come on old man, you still have the spitfire of an angry duckling.” I tease only