Carolina H.S

2

"Harry?"

The man standing in front of me was a familiar one, but he looked far different from the last time I saw him. He stood tall at about 6 feet, with long curly hair brushed back from his face, tattoos covering his arms, and cherry-colored lips resting in a flat line. When I opened the door, he was hooking his sunglasses in his shirt, and from the moment I saw his eyes, I knew it was him.

I could never get those green eyes out of my head.

"I only came because you need to know how deep in the shit you've gotten me." He says this in a cool voice, but you can hear the contempt within it. He's angry about something.

"Harry what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in 12 years and now you just show up at my doorstep at 3 am spewing some bullshit." I try not to let my voice waver as I list off the reasons why this doesn't make any fucking sense, but he keeps ahold of my eyes with his own as he looks at me like I'm the biggest idiot in the world.

"Tonight, you killed Scott Philips, correct?" he questions, leaning on the door frame with a leather jacketed arm.

"Yes, why do you care?"

"Because, he owed some people a lot of fucking money. And they are not gonna be happy when they find out you killed him before he payed his debt. They're also gonna flip their shit when they find out you took away their opportunity to kill him."

"Who did he owe money to?"

"Vinny."

"Vinny? No way, Vinny would never fall for that shit story." I say this in confidence, but then some of the pieces start adding up. Harry is standing here telling me about how some random scammer I shot owes one of the big bosses money, and that boss just happened to be Harry's boss. Harry is pretty high in the ranks, so he wouldn't be sent as an errand boy to warn me. He would only be here on his own account, meaning Vinny most likely doesn't know yet, and Harry had something to do with this idiotic business deal. I tried keeping a straight face while devising a plan to make Harry admit it without lying to me.

Harry's eyes darted to the floor before meeting with mine again. His eyes and face kept the bored, "I'm over this conversation," manner that they always did. The way mine always did.

"How much?" I ask. Simple question, but if I know Harry at all, he'll dodge it like every other question.

"More than we set up to lose on one deal."

He avoided answering. Big fucking shocker.

"2 mil?" I asked, searching his face for any sign of, well, anything. He just shook his head, his jaw jutting forward slightly as he clenched his teeth.

"5?" No way it was more than 5. He just shook his head again.

"10?" Impossible. Harry would never fall for that. Once more, he shook his head.

"Harry, what the fuck? How much is it? Just spit it out, I don't have time for a game of charades that only consists of the same head movement."

"So you have time for a game of charades that consists of more than a head movement?" He asked snarkily, almost smirking. I knew he was just trying to distract from his problem, but he didn't have to be such an ass.

"Oh for fuck's sake Harry! How much money?" At this point, I think he'd figured out that I knew it was him. I couldn't fully read his emotion, as there was next to none.

"15," he mumbled under his breath, but his deep voice made it impossible to miss.

"Shit. That's not good." Wait, I don't care. All I did was kill the guy, who gives a shit if Harry fucked up, I don't care.