"Look, old man," Nicky said, pointing a finger at the grey haired gentleman standing before her. He was happily snacking on a bite-sized sample of a cinnamon roll. "I was here first. Go find yourself some other food court."
The elderly man blinked innocently a couple times and leaned heavily against his cane. "You would yell at a poor old man who has a bum leg?"
She put her hands on her hips. "You don't fool me! I saw you polka dancing with your wife last week."
He dropped the act and straightened to his full height. "Listen little girl, this is our place now. The sooner you accept that, the better."
"Never," she swore. "This is my food court and I'm not giving it up without a fight."
"You and what army?" he asked with a smug grin.
Nicky looked over his shoulder to see the Old Patrol standing behind him. They were decked out in their bright Hawaiian t-shirts and large orthopedic shoes.
"But if it's a fight you want, then we're ready," he added.
One man smacked his cane against his hand and gave Nicky the gimlet eye, while the woman beside him patted her ginormous purse that was filled with food samples.
Nicky mentally cringed as she remembered their last encounter. They may be old, but their aim was right on point.
"You don't scare me," Nicky lied, refusing to back down.
"The look of terror on your face says otherwise," he pointed out.
She rubbed a hand over her mouth and tried to school her expression. She could not afford to show these people fear. They were ruthless. Any sign of weakness and they would attack.
"Do you really want to do this? If I remember correctly, the last time we met you were in tears as you called your friend to come pick you up."
"Those weren't tears," she protested loudly. "I just had something in my eye!"
The man shook his head. "You're outnumbered, little girl. You might as well admit defeat and go home."
"No!" she yelled, digging her heels in.
He sighed. "Fine. We didn't want to do this, but since you're being stubborn...."
One of the men sitting in a wheelchair pushed his way over. He stopped right in front of her and then hunched over, clutching his leg. "Ow! Ow! This girl tried to push me! Security! Security!"
Nicky gasped. "You mean-hearted, deceiving old geezer—"
A security officer in a black and grey uniform ran over. "What's the problem here, folks?"
The man in the wheelchair pointed at her. "She's the problem. She's being extremely rude, calling people names and hoarding the food samples."
"He's lying. I would never do that," she replied hotly.
The security guard, who had dealt with her before, raised an eyebrow in a knowing look.
"I didn't do it this time," she corrected.
"All I wanted was a sample," the elderly man lamented. "I just got fitted with new dentures and wanted to test them out."
"Nicky...." the security guard warned.
"This is a conspiracy against me! I swear! They're all in on it. They've ganged up on me and—"
"Who's in on it?" the security guard interjected.
"Them!" She went to point at the Old Patrol, but no one was there. They all had mysteriously vanished.
The elderly man with the cane gave her a pitiful look. "You poor thing. How long have you been having these delusions?"
Her eyes narrowed into small slits. "You," she seethed, brimming with anger.
"Alright Nicky, let's go. You know you can't keep all the samples to yourself," the security guard told her, waiting to escort her out of the food court.
"Fine," she said, through gritted teeth. She sent the two old men icy glares. "But this isn't over! I'll be back Old Patrol! You just wait and see!"
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