Rainbow Brite And El Camino part 8

Rainbow Brite And El Camino Part 8

A/N - This is the continuation of my original fic. Caution: There are sexual references ahead. Also, blasphemy. You’ve been warned, so don’t bitch at me later. Thanks.
　
(The Camera is shooting from inside the sandwich display case, pointed toward the table where our couple sits. There are various meats, sauces, breads, vegetables and such surrounding it.)
　
Brite returned from her fore’ in the public bathroom domain, to find a huge bite taken right from the middle of her sub.
"Camino!" She slapped his arm.
"What?" "You want it back?" He smirked even though he was still chewing, his cheeks bulging with the evidence.
"No." "Yes!" She said. "God, you’re such a frecktard."
"What?" "I like tuna." "It tastes like you." He finally swallowed, grabbing for more of Brite’s sandwich.
She jerked the wax paper from his reach.
"Camino!" Brite seethed under her breath. "We’re in public."
"So?" He volleyed.
"So, Mr. I have a need to prove I’m male right now, people can hear you."
"I know."
"So no more inappropriate humor."
"It wasn’t inappropriate."

G*d d*mn him. Reminds me of myself sometimes. Which explains why I’m with him. I mean, god what an ass. I mean, this scene was playing out like a typical exchange between me and my mother. Being conspicuous, on display, as always happened when I was in public often brought out a nervousness in me and that in turn brought out bravado. My mother hated it and avoided taking me out because of it.

"Was too." "People can hear you." I say between bites of the unbitten part of my lunch.
"So frecking what." He hisses. "It’s our conversation and they shouldn’t be listening."

That sounds exactly like something I’d say. My poor mother.

(The camera is now between the tables in front of the entrance It swivels, capturing the action. Bright attempts an escape, pulling at her crutch shafts, which are wedged between the seat and table. It makes loud metallic clanking noises. This causes most of the necks in the shop to crank in her direction. A few people ask if she needs help and 1 actually tries to. This upsets Brite because this type of scenario is exactly why she stays in. She pulls the crutch from an innocent bystander’s grasp with an exasperated "No!" leaving her lips. She turns to look at the concerned citizen. "Just because I’m struggling doesn’t mean I need help!" "You’re the one who’s bothered by it." Not me!")


Bright heads down the narrow aisle and out the door.
Once outside, she heads down Broadway.

I have a friend who lives nearby. Maybe I could get a ride home. I’m doing good, considering. Normally, I don’t think about where I’m going. But we do learn, eh? If even just a little bit.
(The camera follows her down the sidewalk. Just then the man who came out of the men’s room, pulls up and asks Bright if she needs a ride.)
G*d frecking d*mn it!

"No!"

(Looking startled again, the salt and pepper haired black man pulls away in his beat up olive green plymouth. Rolling the driver’s side window back up he pushing his glasses back up his nose.)

"Freck!"

(Camino gets up, shoving his chair back roughly. He wraps up Brite’s sandwich in the waxed paper, throwing his own in the trash which is around the far right side of the display case. The camera follows him. The slide door at the top of the receptacle snaps back loudly. He retreats down his former path out the door to the parking lot. He steps outside, squinting out the hot tropical sun. Bright was not in the car or the parking lot.)

"Damn. I keep forgetting how fast she can move when she’s mad."

(Changing his mind, he goes back inside. He returns to counter. He orders a few oatmeal raisin cookies and a bottle of water.)

And here we go again.

(He returns to the parking lot. He starts the car and pulls out, headed down Broadway.)
Wonder if she’s home.

He thought.