'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
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"And I could stay here forever, I could die here I don't have to try here. Can I get my two sugars please?"
— No Name
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THERE WERE BARELY any students in the Baldwin parking lot as Raheem got the last of his things from the Escalade.
Blade tossed him a set of keys for the motorcycle Rah'd trailed them in as they rode back to the campus.
"Try not to leave any bullet holes in this one," Blade told him as he fiddled with the silver trinkets.
Raheem stood by the driver's window, one elbow hanging loosely on the edge of the sill while the rest of his body hung out on the gravity on the other side of him.
"Well, if you keep whoever Colt is in line -- I won't have to. What kind of name is that by the way? He love the bottle or something?" Raheem reminded.
"He's the sharpest shooter in Georgia," Pine answered from the passengers seat, " He can damn near take out an eye from a mile away, and he only shoots with one weapon -- a Colt 1911."
"If he's so sharp of a shooter, how come he grazed my shoulder?" Raheem questioned.
"He went in blind that night off rage -- used his anger more than he did his skills. I also think that there was more on his mind." Blade answered him this time.
It wasn't one Raheem was looking for. He wanted Colt to be flawed -- to have some kind of uncertainty to his murderous ways.
Yet, if the only thing that kept Raheem alive was Colt being too out of it, he wandered what would happen if he was the only thing caught in his focus.
Blade noticed Rah's silence, resulting in him speaking up to assure him.
"Don't worry about that situation now, I'm handling it. Can't make too much noise, he's got eyes everywhere -- and apparently on the West too, as we've learned this weekend."
"How come? I thought you weren't supposed to trust most in the game. He must be extra likable or something."
Blade chuckled, "He doesn't and he is -- at first. They trust him, he'll promise favors he will never deliver, and leave whoever was gullible enough littered all over the Eastside like trash when he's got what he's needed."
"You talk like you hate him," Raheem responded.
"I do." Blade admitted, "He's always been one step ahead. I've got the street intellect, yes, but he's got the logistics. He knows too many of my weaknesses, its what's kept him with most of the score."