Tyrant Trouble by Phoebe Matthews

Author:Phoebe Matthews
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: humor, barbarians, contemporary, adult and young adult, otherworld, suspense

CHAPTER 12

Have I mentioned that a thousand years ago, when I was sixteen, I dated Rock Decko?

Rock in black leather and chains was, uh, hot. And I was sixteen. Which I hope explains why I thought he was hot.

He wasn't much older than me, two or three years, I think. Rock was into motorcycles, worked in a cycle repair shop, and really, really, really wanted to be a bad boy but had no special skills. I am talking fighting skills. He couldn't possibly have held his own in a Hell's Angels type of dust up. So he hung around the edges when bikers came into the shop, soaking up their wild stories and believing them, then putting himself into the lead role.

I can still hear him telling me, “Babe, this dude came at me, had a knife this long, thought I'd back off, blah, blah, blah.” He had me fooled for about a month. I was really impressed in that teenage nuts way.

“Weren't you scared?”

“Nah, babe, nothing scares me.”

Did I mention he was a really good kisser? Sixteen is easy to impress.

Fortunately, he didn't own a car and neither of us had a room to go to or money to rent one and hadn't figured a path around that little obstacle. Also, fortunately, Rock hadn't yet been tapped to be a wizard. Most smash wizards don't know they are wizards. It isn't genetic, at least not where I come from. It's more accidental, like discovering you're a natural on the oboe. And that happens when a music teacher hands you one and says, “I think you might be good on this.”

With wizard mentality, the line is, “Do you sometimes wish for something and are surprised when it happens?”

Rock and I were a twosome before his big moment. While necking in the back booth of the pizza parlor, because necking on a bike is really hazardous and I have a few scars to prove it, I'd come up for air and tell him about my astrology training, some of it with the local astrologer, some with my gran.

“You can tell fortunes? Hey, can you pick winners, you know, like for a Seahawks game?”

Verboten, every astrologer knows that, not because it is illegal but because one teeny error can earn you a lifelong enemy, so I told him of course not.

That isn't why we broke up. Another guy tried to hit on me, nothing obnoxious, the sort of thing I could have turned off with a polite, “That's my boyfriend over there.”

Rock didn't give me a chance. The guy touched my arm, just touched, didn't grab, and asked my name and could he buy me a beer. I was on my way back to the booth from a rest room run. I didn't even get a chance to tell him I stuck to diet coke because even in Mudflat they card.

The bad boy wannabe saw us and flew out of the booth swinging a chain and then there was this messy bloody mix-up, with the owner tossing us all out into the parking lot.

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