(Next Chapter is what you've all been waiting for.)
(Chapter 12 will not be the last Chapter, looks like I'll be typing a chapter 13.)
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"
"I'm sorry! Why don't you bitch a little fucking more dude. Seriously!"
"DON'T SMACK MY FUCKING ARM INTO THE DOOR ASSHOLE, IT'S FUCKING BROKE!"
"If you don't shut your big fucking mouth, I'll break the goddamn thing all the way off and shove it so far down your throat it'll scratch your balls from the inside!"
Otis tried to think of something else to yell, but the imagery of his hand scratching his balls from the inside of his body was too much, and he cracked up and laughed. JB however, was still not amused. It had been hell o everyone getting Otis home, and now they were taking him right back out, to go to the Rat Ball of all things. Instead of making him rest, the doctor said to make him rest. Not go gallivanting about the fucking county. But noooo, Otis just had to go and say hello and thank you to everyone, and he just haaaaaad to see Ariel. It didn't matter that the only reason she left his side today was to shower and get ready, leaving JB to care for him. Even Deacon had ditched him, and wasn't even coming to help him out tonight. He was off doing something. JB muttered angrily about all this as he began lowering Otis step by step down the stairs, the wheelchair the only thing Otis was listening on. JB didn't know that Otis was merely doing it to piss JB off and save his strength for dancing with Ariel.
JB finally got Otis in the passenger seat, and then heaved the ungainly and heavy wheelchair in the back of the truck. The hospital had been going to give him a light weight model, but Otis was just too goddamn big. Grumbling about bastard crippled friends and darkly making death threats on the inventor of the wheelchair as a torture device for friends and family of said bastard crippled friends, JB climbed behind the wheel and began to drive to Rat Hall. They didn't talk much on the drive. Otis knew when he was pushing his best friend to far, and this was surely one of those times. Instead, he flipped down the mirror visor and appraised himself. The Rat Ball was an actual event, where you dressed a little nicer than usual, and had a good time with a live band. Everyone dressed nice, it wasn't a 'black tie' event, but you wore a nice outfit. It was considered a 'No Cut' event, meaning there was more than one Motorcycle Club there, and you left your vest at home and left your problems at the door.
The River Rats had started off as an outlaw biker gang, a bunch of young guys disillusioned with the world and their place in it. They just wanted to have a good time. When friends and brothers started dying from drugs, driving intoxicated, the men grew up quick. The club was more about having a good time, and keeping the neighborhood clean. They kept most of the other gangs out, and the people who dealt the harder drugs knew they wouldn't sell much in the River District. Since most of the guys smoked it, it was pretty easy to sell and buy pot in the district. But the minute you peddled something else, your selling rights were revoked.
Otis shook himself out of his musings and again checked his appearance. He had shaved, both his face and his head, leaving nothing but a goatee and a moustache. He had take out his usual 1" silicone ear skins and replaced them with a pair of teardrop shaped obsidian pieces he had bought just to have a nice looking pair of jewelry for his ears. They were a concave, black, shiny affair, and they went well with his shoes and belt. Being that he wanted to look nice and presentable, he had worn a black silk shirt with a black vest over it, and black dress pants. There was a hander kerchief in his pocket, which was a splash of bright red. It was as JB had said, 'the look of a personage that is pimping.' Because his friend was a jackass. Otis leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling the cool leather on his freshly shaved head.
JB snorted. If Otis kept looking in the mirror, he'd fall in love with himself and never leave. JB hadn't gone all out like Otis. He had gotten permission from his PO to stay out late, so he would get to fully enjoy the ball. He'd kept it simple, got his hair trimmed, some black dress pants and a blue dress shirt. He wore his black cowboy boots and he was ready, and dressed up to what he considered the nines. Some would disagree, but as far as he was concerned, he took a shower, he was going above and beyond.
As they pulled up, Otis grabbed the cane. He had bought it years ago, or so it seemed, and it was the completion to his pimp-ness. Really though, he could never remember exactly where he had bought it, or who he had got it from. It was black, made from mahogany with a really nice shine on it. The head was what had attracted him to borrow it. It was double faced, and looked silverish. One face was a raven head, with blue gem eyes. It flowed back, the feathers turning into fur as it formed the other side, a snarling wolf with black gem eyes. It was a beautiful cane, and Otis had always loved owning it. It was part of every serious outfit he wore, including his tux for his prom. Tonight, it was good for more than just looks; it was going to support him tonight. He had a feeling that he would need to lean on it a few times.
"C'mon man let me help you in."
Otis looked at his friend.
"Fuck off you old mother hen."
JB managed to look pissed, before the smile broke through the fake storm cloud he was trying to pull over his face.
"Come on then asshole; let's go have a good time."
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Ariel was nervous as she sat in the back of the car as her parents drove. She was nervous about the infamous 'Rats Ball', and she was nervous because she was worried Otis wouldn't think she looked nice. She had chosen a bright red dress that she and her mom thought went really good with her fair skin, red lips, and black hair. It wasn't a grandma dress or something a hooker would wear, just enough to give a hint of her sexiness. Her father of course, he disapproved, but he would rather have her dressed like an Amish wife than wear anything that showed off her body. He didn't want to admit that his little girl had grown up. Her mother didn't wither, but she was at least resigned to it, if not trying to at least accept it.
