Besides, she had to prove Mike wrong, that not all men were as impatient as him and she thought Ian was the right person to demonstrate. ‘Er, what time do you want to meet up shall I pick you up or do you want to meet at the pub?’ Ian asked, the speed in his voice highlighting his nerves again. ‘Well I don’t live far from the pub so shall we meet there about eight?’ ‘That sounds great,’ Ian said, gaining his composure. ‘I’d probably get lost finding your house anyway. I have a distinct lack of direction.’ Melissa giggled. Well he could certainly make her laugh, something she hadn’t done for a long time. Maybe he wasn’t that attractive but they could still be friends she thought. ‘See you then,’ she said, putting the phone down. Ian smiled as he replaced his receiver, but then started to panic. What was he going to wear? How much aftershave should he put on? What songs was he going to sing at the karaoke? What were they going to talk about before his five minutes of fame occurred?. Patterson said as he used his cell phone to dial the police. ‘Yes, this is the security officer who called just a bit ago about a break in. Well our fellow tried running, but slipped in some wet cement at the construction site in back. We have him pretty much in custody now.’ Punk Rocker felt a strange tingling sensation all throughout his entire body. He didn’t really know what it was from. It could be because of the chemical, from the fall, or because he was now really angry at the arrogant security officer before him. He didn’t really care though what it was. ‘Back off, creeps!’ Punk Rocker said, jumping to his feet, and pulling out a switchblade with his free hand, and still holding the canister in the other. ‘Drop the knife on the count of three, or we open fire!’ Mr. Patterson said flatly. Punk Rocker stood there, with a death grip on the knife, breathing heavy snorts of air through his nose. He was determined not to go to jail, at least, not alive. ‘One…two…’ Mr. Patterson.
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