Between Us: A Spelivia Love Story

Chapter Three: Killa

Spencer James 

That same night, Spencer found himself back at his crib in South Los Angeles. He was posted on the front porch, appreciating the silence that overpowered his block for the first time in months. His life was chaotic as is so he enjoyed the brief moment of ease he felt at that very moment. He gazed at the stars above, shivering from the cool crisp breeze.

"What's crackin', K!" Spencer's homeboy, Jay, called out from his lowrider. Out of nature, Spencer threw up the set as Jay approached his front porch.

"I heard what happened at Fox Hills tonight! You good?!" Jay asked, dapping up his homeboy.

"Yeah. An Eight Trey said some goofy shit, so I had to get it crackin'" Spencer chuckled, pulling the rolled blunt off of the tray.

"Niggas sayin' you pulled the trigger?" Jay inquired, handing Spencer the lighter from his back pocket. Spencer nodded as he lit the rolled blunt with the fire. "I don't even know why you came back here. You know them niggas lookin' for you?" Jay watched as his friend took a hit.

"I ain't scared of them. I'd rather be here than put anyone's life at risk" Spencer answered, passing his friend the blunt.

"I mean, you already did that tonight!" Jay shook his head as he thought about Spencer's actions.

"I know you ain't on my porch, tryna check me?" Spencer stood up on his feet.

"We all gotta stay dangerous because of yo' actions!" Jay took a step toward Spencer, pointing at him. "But you know what? I ain't tryna argue wit you, Killa! So let's drop it" Jay took the blunt from Spencer and took a pull.

"Nah, Jay! You come up on my porch tryna hoe me. That ain't cool, my nigga. Fuck is up wit you?" Spencer questioned his friend.

"I said to drop it, didn't I?!" Jay demanded, getting in Spencer's face.

The anger in Spencer's eyes then turned blank. He clutched onto his chest as he felt it tighten severely. Those seven little words reminded him of a huge traumatic event he desperately tried to forget. 

May 7th, 2016

4:30 PM

The lamp in the living room burned Spencer's eyes as his mother peppered him with questions. It was a warm Friday afternoon in South Los Angeles. Spencer had just returned home from an outing, his mother was evidently concerned about his whereabouts.

"I need you to chill out, ma! Aight? Nothin' is wrong wit me, I'm good!" Spencer asserted, his frustration with his mother kicked in.

"Who the hell you talkin' to?! Cause I know damn well it ain't me!" Marie trailed behind her son, practically stepping on the back of his feet. "Spencer, I'm talkin' to you! What's gotten into you lately?!" She wrinkled her eyebrows.

"I said to drop it, didn't I?!" He demanded, rage nearly consumed him.

Marie widened her eyes at her son's tone. She did not know who the teenage boy in front of her was. "You know what, you are your father's child" She chuckled lightly from shock, taking two steps backward.

"And who's fault is that? Hm?" He stared her dead in the eye. The palm of Marie's hand swiftly connected to his cheek, leaving Spencer stunned. Tears threatened to escape his eyes as he held onto the right side of his face.