Page 30 of Haunting Phantom
“Aren’t you two a little lost?” one rasps out, staring at the two prospects like they’re lunch meat.
“Um, sorry, we just came to play a few rounds of p—pool,” Wolfie stutters.
Gremlin leans over the table and takes a shot, sinking a few of the striped balls into pockets. When he snaps back up, he’s way too confident. “Is it a fucking crime to play pool?”
The lead Misfit spits on the ground. “Only when you’re bothering me with your existence.” He moves so Gremlin can’t get by.
Gremlin rolls his eyes. “Do you mind? You’re kinda blocking my next shot.”
Wolfie trembles in fear, especially when the big bad biker looms over Gremlin’s back, a knife appearing in his hand.
“You’re messing with the wrong person, Kid.”
Fuck, they’re going to hurt him!I need to let Phantom know now.
I flit back outside, doing my best to drag Phantom’s attention to the window. When he doesn’t look, I do the only thing I can, and rip that damn cigarette dangling from his mouth from his lips and throw it on the ground, the butt still lit up red and angry.
“What the fuck do you want now, woman?” he growls, looking angry.
“Look in the window, asshole!”
But he doesn’t. He’s already fishing out another cigarette, ready to light up round three.
I’m ten seconds away from doing something drastic when Wolfie comes sprinting out the front door, landing on his hands and knees before he takes off running down the street.
“Yo, Wolfie, where’s the fire?”
He finally looks inside, seeing the group of bikers crowding around poor Gremlin, who holds his cue stick like a weapon.
“Fuck!” he grumbles, nodding for Bigfoot, who’s already marching over.
“What’s up?” he asks, his voice gruff and bothered. “Why did Wolfie just take off like that?”
“Our little Gremlin is about to get murdered if we don’t step in.”
Frankie and Chupie are by his side, but the two of them don’t look as afraid as Wolfie.
“Then I guess it’s time for the big guy to step in and even the playing field.”
There are four of them inside. If I had to guess, they’re all lower members, but they seem ready for a fight.
Bigfoot slams open the pool hall door, takes one look at Gremlin, who’s barely affected by the drawn weapons and the four bikers backing him into the corner, and fucking loses his shit.
“Yo!” Bigfoot growls. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
One of the bikers snaps his head to look Bigfoot’s way and waves him off. “This doesn’t concern you, Old Timer.”
“Oh no, you boys are in for it now. You just poked the bear!”I taunt, wishing I had popcorn and a recliner chair. This is the kind of shit people pay to see.
Bigfoot moves across the room in two strides, grabbing the guy with the knife by the scruff of his neck, and slamming him up against the wall. “Who the fuck are you calling Old Timer?”
“Hmm, not so tough when the odds stack up against you, are ya, asshole?”
The young biker squirms, but he’s no match for Bigfoot’s size or strength. “Jesus, dude, what the fuck?”
Bigfoot smirks. “I’m just evening the fucking odds,” he growls, taking out his gun and pointing into the kid’s ribcage. “He’s with me.”
The other three bikers take a step back. Eyes wide. Visible fear resonating in their eyes.
