Oops - CinderScoria (the best books to read .TXT) 📗

out. I grunted as I face-planted on the sidewalk, jarred. Definitely not my most graceful exit.

“Come on,”

Crazy Chick said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “Inside.”

I took a look at the building. It was a small warehouse, about the size of a Safeway grocery store. Graffiti decorated the sides of it but I could never read that stuff anyways, and the whole outside was the basic definition of “run down.” The brick was falling apart at the edges and I could see broken windows. To my left, the waves broke and lapped against the sea wall, also made of brick, and it gave off the comforting, familiar smell of the salty Pacific Ocean.

The place looked deserted and would probably be a candidate for Ghost Hunters just from appearances. I looked at Crazy Chick, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

I eyed her up and down. She didn’t look like she could kid anyone. I winced, staring up at the building, reluctant to do anything until Crazy Chick gave me a hard shove in the back and I stumbled forward a few steps.

“Will you chill?” I told her. “God, you are so violent.”

She didn’t say anything, but her face darkened as if to tell me I was pushing my luck. Good enough for me. I shut up and walked forward slowly, taking in my surroundings. To the right the street was empty and desolate, kind of sad-looking. I could tell nobody had been on it for a while because there were cracks in the street that had grass and dandelions growing in them, huge potholes, and broken glass. Trees lined the lonely road on the other side, with rows and rows of other trees behind it to form a forest. The sky above me was overcast and gray with clouds, and there was an electric smell in the air that told me a storm was coming.

I didn’t want to risk a look back, because I knew that Crazy Chick would probably just knock me out again if I annoyed her too much, but I could see the Pacific Ocean to my left and felt instantly better. We were still in California, I figured, despite not knowing how long I was out. That meant there was still hope, no matter how bleak the situation looked.

The other girl appeared around the corner of the building. I didn’t know where she went, but she gave Crazy Chick a nod and then opened one of the doors. The top hinges creaked and then the poor thing snapped, and with a moaning noise the door succumbed to gravity and fell. I cringed away, expecting it to crash to the ground, but then the bottom hinges caught and it sagged with the extra weight.

Crazy Chick grinned at me. “You scared, superstar?”

“No,” I muttered, staring cautiously at the door to see if it would hold. It did, and the younger girl walked right through it and motioned us inside. Crazy Chick shoved me again, and I followed her in.

Immediately I started to cough. Dust and grime was everywhere. My eyes watered and I leaned to the side to keep from coughing on anybody else while Crazy Chick pounded on my back, hard. Awfully considerate of her, being a psycho kidnapping criminal and all. Eventually my cough was controlled and I took to alternating between my nose and my mouth for breathing.

Crazy Chick pulled up a chair that had been sitting in the middle of the room, grabbed my shoulder, and shoved me into it. “Sit,” she said belatedly, like she was remembering her manners at the last second.

“Yeah, I got that.” The words slipped out before I had a chance to think about them. I mentally slapped my palm to my forehead. Me and my big mouth, right?

Crazy Chick arched another eyebrow, looking amused as the other girl undid one of my cuffs, slid it through one of the pegs in the back of the chair, and re-cuffed it to my wrist and locked it. I jerked the chain, just to test it, and it held fast. Awesome.

“Okay,” Crazy Chick said, finally tucking the gun into her back pocket. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to stay with us for a while until your parents pay for you, and then you’re going to leave. Got it?”

I blinked at her. “This is about ransom?”

“You’re also going to shut up or I will gag you for the rest of your time here,” she said pleasantly. It was creepy, how conversational she was being, but I didn’t want to have to chew on a rag until Dad could pay, so I didn’t mention it.

“If you try to escape, I will shoot you. If you call someone, I will shoot them, and then I will make sure you die slowly and painfully and hide you where no one will ever find your body again.”

I blinked. “Um, okay. No escaping, no calling. Got it.”

She gave me a smile that held no humor or fondness. “Good boy.” Then she turned to the girl, said something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, and turned back to me. “Just do what we say and you’ll be out of here by the weekend. I’ll be back. Don’t try anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said dryly, watching as she strutted out of the building.

The girl pulled up a chair and sat it in backwards, leaning on the back so she could watch me. She stared, just like Crazy Chick, unblinking. I shifted, uncomfortable.

“So,” I said awkwardly. “You always go around kidnapping famous people, or is this just a new hobby for you?”

Her mouth twitched.

“I mean, I know this face is worth some money, but this is a little ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes for effect, and this time she really did smile. The smile was infectious, so I smiled back. “Good to know not all kidnappers are psychotic.”

“I’m a fan,” she admitted, and her voice was husky like Crazy Chick’s, but a lot younger-sounding. And there was that accent again, too.

“She talks!” I looked up to the ceiling as if it was the sky. “Hallelujah! I won’t be bored out of my mind!”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I also bake and kidnap rock stars for a living,” she said, sarcastic but light.

I shrugged. “To each his own, I guess. Err— her own? You know what I mean.”

Another eye-roll. I was scoring points with Little Miss Kidnapper.

“So, you’re a fan, huh?” I asked. “That’s cool. I would shake your hand, sign something for you, but I’m a bit tied up, so.”

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “My sister says it’s necessary. But yeah, I’m a fan.”

Aha! Sisters! I knew they were related. Obviously the excitement of having new information showed on my face, because the girl looked horrified that she’d blurted it out. “Please don’t tell her I said that!” she said, covering her face with her hands. “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

“My lips are sealed,” I promised her, smiling a little bit.

We settled into a comfortable silence until the girl got up to grab a small backpack on the table next to the door. Now that I was really looking, the empty warehouse wasn’t as empty as it seemed— there was a table, three chairs counting the ones me and the girl were sitting on, a cardboard box beneath the table, and a small office room in the back with glass windows. The girl walked back and sat down, unzipping the backpack and pulling out a banana.

“Hungry?” she offered, holding it out to me.

My stomach ached but held back a rumble, so I shook my head. I really was hungry, and I had no real reason to refuse the banana except for the fact that I was feeling a little rebellious. Now that Crazy Chick was gone, the terror and panic had disappeared with her. Now I was just mad. Although this girl’s company was nice enough to let me forget that.

The girl shrugged and peeled into the fruit, taking a bite and swallowing. “So,” I said, shifting in my seat. “What’s a nice girl like you doing committing a federal offense?”

Her eyes rolled again. “I see somebody’s been keeping up with cheesy kidnapping movies.”

“Guilty.”

“Well then,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it, but I got the feeling that she wasn’t exactly kidding.

I shrugged. “Fair enough. But can I at least know your name? It’s getting old, calling you “the girl” in my head all the time.”

She gave me a look, and then heaved a sigh. “Nani.”

“Nani?”

“Yeah,” Nani said, shrugging. “Like Shawnee, except with an ‘n’. Or ‘what’, in Japanese.”

“Cool,” I said, relaxing. “I’m—”

“Rocky Nelson,” she said. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Silly me.”

Nani grinned. “Fan.”

“Got that.”

Crazy came back then, flinging the door open so hard it banged against the side of the wall. She stood in the doorway, a hammer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. I shook my head. So that’s what she was doing— fixing the hinges on the door. This chick could do it all— fix doors, speak Spanish, kidnap rock stars… and I had a sinking suspicion that wasn’t even the half of it.

“Behaving yourself?” she asked me snarkily.

I rolled my eyes. “Like I can rebel cuffed to a chair.”

She shrugged. “Could be worse. I could be a fan, forcing you to do unspeakable things. With a camera.”

I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was messing with