Bodyguard University: I Hate Loving You

Explanations

Kinn's Point of View:

I hated neighbors. I especially disliked the ones that interrupted me to help them with meaningless predicaments. Last night, some fucker just had to knock on the door when I was about to have my chance with Porsche because he was worried that someone had broken into his apartment. It turned out that the idiot had forgotten to close his door all the way, incidentally having his door fully open when he returned.

Now, thanks to some moron, I was stuck making deals with Porsche in order to get what I wanted. He had insisted I purposefully scored lower on my knife wielding test to appease whatever bit of his diminishing ego he had left.

I didn't believe that he'd genuinely considered if I did as requested. But I knew that in doing so, I'd gain a new level of trust with him. Trust to Porsche was very important. And I respected that. I'd never want to make someone do something they didn't want to do.

Porsche was too scared to go after what he wanted, but I could tell he wanted me. He just needed a push, a gentle but firm nudge. Flesh was flesh. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Another thought concerned me though the men that were going after me. I was being completely honest with Porsche when I'd said I had no idea what the hell they wanted from me. I'd recognized who they were, but I hadn't messed with that group for years.

The T brothers. They belonged to a rival gang of mine. My father and I used to do plenty of business with them until they'd decided to cheat us out of thousands of dollars. Being in a tiny, local gang, we were struggling enough as it was to make profit. To have businessmen we'd respected fuck us over like that was a huge loss.

My father had gotten into gang life years long before I was born. By the time I could walk, he'd taken over the gang and tried to give it a new start. It went well for a while. We weren't rich by any means, but we were successful enough to get by. The hardest part was all the rival gangs coming into our territory and screwing shit up for us. That was why we'd agreed to do business in the first place, keep your friends close and enemies closer.

I had to learn what the T brothers wanted. They were coming after my safety. And worse, they were interfering with my personal life. What if Porsche hadn't been lucky and was stabbed that night of the knife fight? I didn't have a magical potion to heal him. Just one artery, one vital hit, and he'd be gone.

I'd be fucked if he got killed. The police would be all over that. And I couldn't, under any circumstances, have the police looking at me again. I saw how well that went the last time...

Rubbing my hands together, I tried to convince myself to just knock on the damn door. I hadn't been home since the incident, yet here I was, crawling back after all this time. As much as I'd hated being there, I had no choice. It was either come back or get killed.

Fuck it.

I hailed a thunderstorm of knocks on the rickety door of my house. The entire street must've heard the commotion I was making. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Come on. I know you're home," I muttered, my hand growing numb from the brutal force of my knocking.

As my hand went to strike another rap, the door swung open. Jeff, my father's assistant, dodged the punch, eyebrows raised at the offence.

"Khun Kinn?" Jeff paused once realizing that I was actually, truly here. He wiped his eyes. That was right. I wasn't a figment of his imagination. "Is that really you?"

"In the flesh," I said, swinging my arms open.

It hadn't been even a year, and Jeff had changed dramatically since last I'd seen him. His once buzz cut hair was now hanging past his ears, and he had an equal sign tattooed on his left cheek. Loosely, his clothes fit, highlighting his clear weight loss. I knew my father's incarceration was stressful, but I hadn't realized it had taken this great of a toll on him. I could only imagine how the rest of the gang looked.