Page 98 of Romeo & Antoinette

He had to clear his head. So he got up, threw on some ratty running shorts, a beat up pair of Nikes, a tattered t-shirt with a stained and faded Tabasco logo on it, and hit the bricks.

Right out of the gate he went fast and hard. It was sunny and hot and in no time he was breathing heavy and sweating buckets.

His plan was to take First down as far as it would go then swing left and head down Church Street till he got to the park, the big park. There he could do a couple of loops before calling it a day. By the time he was done he would log close to five miles. A picture perfect, head clearing run.

Only his head wasn’t clearing. And as he passed the Hobby Hut, where he used to drag his father to buy model rockets when he was seven and force him to build, launch and recover them as soon as they got home. Running breathless beneath them as they fell back to Earth. Hoping to catch the parachute before it hit the ground. His thoughts remained focused on her .

She was obviously mad. Who wouldn’t be? He’d put her brother in the hospital. After he’d said he’d be the one to keep the peace. He knew that’s why she was mad, that’s why she wasn’t answering his calls.

He also knew that if he could just talk to her, he could make it right. After all, she had to know how difficult her brother was. He was always involved in some kind of trouble. She’d have to know it wasn’t his fault. She?

??d have to know, that despite what happened, he was the good guy. Yeah, he was sure. If he could just talk to her he could make it right.

Of course, he didn’t know about the pictures yet.

He also didn’t know about Perry. That is to say, he didn’t know Perry was behind him and coming up fast.

As it happened, Perry was in the Hobby Hut at the exact moment Romeo had run by. He was just putting his change away after buying an Octopod Mechanical Steampunk Figurine. Which was basically a model metal robot octopus that he had been pestering the owner to get for weeks.

He had some change from the purchase, as Perry only always paid in cash. It was a somewhat annoying affectation of his obsession with Victorian Futurism. Something that had infuriated his now ex-girlfriend to no end. Perry didn’t own a single credit card. Which is why he had to wait for the owner to order the model instead of just buying it online.

He put the coins in a small leather pouch, pulled the drawstring closed, slipped the pouch into his pocket, looked up, and there went Romeo running by. Immediately Perry fled the store and took chase.

He hopped up on his bicycle. His preferred method of transportation. An overbuilt contraption of his own design with multiple, old-timey squeezy horns on the front, an unnecessary preponderance of gears and chains in the middle, and a beat up brown leather suitcase strapped to the back. In which he kept a spare pair of riding gloves and an extra pair of goggles. Then he took off after Romeo .

He got close. Close enough for Romeo to hear his own name.

“You. Romeo. Stop!”

“Huh?” Romeo turned and simply couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Perry, in another ridiculous outfit, trying to catch him on the weirdest looking bicycle he’d ever seen.

“I said stop! I want to talk to you.”

But Romeo wasn’t having it. Perry was pudgy, overdressed and out of shape, and it didn’t take very long for Romeo to outrun him. He just kicked it into high gear and took off, leaving Perry on the side of the road, hyperventilating and shaking his fist.

“This (wheez…) isn’t (cough…) over (pant… pant…) ,” said Perry, to no one but himself, really. As Romeo was pulling away fast. “It’s not over (wheez cough…) by a long shot.” Perry wiped the deluge of sweat from his brow. “Oh no it’s not…”

Romeo made it to the park, the big one down by the water where the Mayor was due to have his birthday party next week. There he logged a few laps, stopping only to return his father’s text.

Can you stop by this morning?

Sure.

He ran from the park and off toward his parent’s house. The late morning sun beat down on his heaving chest. The summer air filled his mouth and lungs, thick with the smell of freshly cut grass. Eleven minutes later he was there.

He found his folks in the kitchen.

“Well… Look who’s here,” said his mom, grinning from ear to ear. Juice glass in her hand as she continued to empty the dishwasher.

“Hey,” he said. Then, “Hi dad.”

His father was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hello son. Thanks for coming over.”

“Sure thing. What’s up? ”

“We just wanted to see you,” said his mom.

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