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( CHAPTER TEN: A SONG FOR THE THIEF ) August, 1995.
❛ finally found a girl that you couldn't impress? ❜
✦
Tyler was not happy, at all. For once, he felt a slice of anxiety cutting through his chest, and the feeling felt horrid. As the biracial male stood there, in the slums of the Brooklyn alleyway, his honey, arctic blue eyes glistened with agitation. His eye was swollen, he could feel his sore skin flaring up, the tender, blue bruises that decorated his white cheekbone humorously complimenting the hue of his eyes. If it weren't for the tortuous pain that tormented his vision, he would've laughed off such an observation. But sadly, there was nothing funny about the situation he was in.
"Fuck," Tyler muttered under his breath, resting his hands on his hips. Despite the fact that he already had debts to pay, he knew that there was even more of a time crunch on Hector's scheme. And Tyler Cain knew best of all that empty debts can get him killed. There was no getting out of this, he had to get that deposit, and fast.
With his sore, blackened eyelid and a nasty scowl, Tyler stomped out of the alleyway with his chest heaving out heavy breaths. He raced over to Jamal's apartment with rapid urgency, the sight of bruised eyelid and crazed stare made many people bolt out of his path, which, luckily for him, made him reach the flat faster.
Once Tyler reached the door, he bolted straight in, his racing heart preventing him from extending any courtesy. "I need the blueprints," Tyler commanded, altering a relaxed Jamal, who lounged on his living room couch. At the sound of Tyler's angered voice, he sat up, head darting towards the twenty-four-year-old worriedly.
"Huh?" Jamal mumbled in confusion, but the throbbing pain and the endless threats that Tyler received made his patience run low. He wasn't in the mood for fucking around, he needed results. So, Tyler turned to him, and his piercing hazel eyes zapped with annoyance. "The blueprints to Tommy's mansion, find it for me," Tyler commanded yet again.
"Uh... Why?" Jamal uttered out, sitting there in a blubbering mess, "And what the fuck happened to your eye?" Tyler's nose crinkled at Jamal's words, pacing around the room like a madman. Instead of answering his friend's question, Tyler's glacial eyes settled on the dirty laundry basket sitting at the foot of Jamal's crummy sofa.
He saw his stained shirt hadn't been washed yet. It was the same shirt that Mariah ruined, right after she threw a can of pop in his face. Tyler wasn't sure how, but the imagery of Mariah's angered face suddenly gave him the biggest epiphany in history. He needed some spare change? Well, he was currently working for a rich, oblivious man at the big ole' mansion in Bedford.
