The Tales of Flesh and Blood

Roulette, Anyone?

"That was . . . interesting," Frenice said casually once we reached outside. I shrugged.

"I've been known to win a fight or two." Anyone without a gun, at least. "Although I'm curious. How did you avoid a fight when you went in there? How did you find me?"

"Please, I will tell you more about myself when we are out of this place."

Ah, finally. Warning flag number one. I glanced behind myself. Landon. This guy unnerved Landon. Who is he? I glanced back at Frenice. Someone powerful enough to waltz in a dirt-poor apartment complex dressed as a king without fear. He was either stupid or I was seriously underestimating him. I'm not sure which one was worse.

"Why are they afraid of you?" Frenice asked as we approached what I assumed was his vehicle - a dark blue car with a low ceiling. It did not seem too fancy to me; it was a clean color, but not shiny, and I never had been one to fathom over cars. A car was a car, just like how a shirt was a shirt. I gave him a sidelong glance.

"If they were not, you would be knocked unconscious in some alleyway, on your way to being stripped to your underwear by now," I said, avoiding the question - even though I was sure people were more weary of him than me, and I was somehow left in the dark in all this. He sought me out. I didn't know what he knew about me, and I was trusting that he would be the one to do most of the talking.

He thinks you're clueless. Just play the game.

"You're just a kid," Frenice said casually. "Why would people be afraid of a kid?"

I tilted my head, leaning against the door to the passenger side.

"There are not many people older than forty in that building. Look, we don't have to do this," I added as he frowned. "Just remember that you were the one who approached me in a bar while I was obviously intoxicated. And judging from the way my friends spoke of you earlier, you have no right to scold me for being intimidating. It takes a lot to unnerve those types of kids."

"If this were true, why did you feel the need to defend me back there?"

"Because you never know who has a gun."

Things always got nasty when someone pulled out a gun.

"So then what stopped them?" he asked as he pulled out his keys to unlock the door. Awkwardly, I allowed him to open mine and plopped in, taken aback by how low the seats were. He then walked around and took his own seat, waiting for an answer.

"I know how to win," was all I said. That much, at least, was probably true.

"What does that mean?"

I remained silent. I said the truth; I did know how to win. Every year, kids that lived in the apartments gathered up somewhere to fight for their protection. Whoever won more than three matches, it was agreed on, would go through the year without their home or family being robbed of anything - so as long as the winner didn't try to start shit with others. 

Though I was confident no one would truly mess with Hadi just because she was known to tending to peoples' children, it never hurt to be sure. But this was not information that was given to outsiders. For years, the police had tried to stop us, until they realized that our fights sorted things out amongst one another. The one time they interrupted us, enough people died that year that they never attempted it again. It did not mean they would hesitate to arrest anyone involved.

We stopped at an old, classic sandwich restaurant with more business than usual. Cars filled the parking lot, and after the fourth round searching for a place to park, Frenice cursed and stopped midway. He reversed the car and headed back out onto the main road. A faint smile curled at my lips. Rich men didn't have much patience, I'm guessing.

It was not for a few more minutes before I realized two darker cars driving side by side behind us. They almost seemed as if they were in the middle of some sort of challenge, inching ahead of one another until they slowed almost directly behind Frenice's vehicle. However, not one of them made a move to pass us. I frowned.

"Frenice?"

"Yes?"

"How many people know your car and license plate?"

"Why?"

"Have you been paying attention to your mirrors? We're being trailed."

Suddenly, the car on the left rolled down the passenger window, and out of it pointed a shiny, small object . . . a gun. Ah, crud. I twisted my body around the seat, not quite believing what I was seeing, when the gun went off. The car on the right veered from the road and crashed into a nearby tree. Meanwhile, a stream full of curses escaped my mouth without my being conscious of it. Someone just got shot.

Frenice, however, remained calm, and urged me to get down. That's when I noticed the car on the left speeding up to drive side-by-side with Frenice.

"Oh hell, oh hell - Frenice, that guy has a gun!" I gripped the handle on the door, wide-eyed. But the man made no move to either speed up or slow down. "Frenice, that guy has a gun," I repeated.

"Get down," was all he bothered to say to me.

"Are you out of your mind?! He just shot someone."

And then Frenice rolled down his window, pressed his head against the headrest of his seat, and behold, he also had a gun. I barely had the time to mimic him when a bullet flew by my head. All Frenice had to do was briefly take his hands off the wheel and shoot at the car beside us without taking his eyes from the road. Just three, clear, piercing shots, and then that car followed suit of the one it took down just moments before.

Silence - apart from the newfound ringing in my ears. I didn't trust myself to move to cover them, though, until the ringing started to fade enough to hear properly.

With great effort, I tore my eyes away from the side mirror to study Freinice's face, his eyes firmly concentrated on the road, as if he did not just shoot a guy to death. As if he was not about to be a victim of a hit-and-run incident just seconds before. I shifted myself until my hand rested on the latch holding in my seatbelt. Flag number two. I was not about ready to wait around for the third warning flag; this guy was definitely someone I didn't want to associate with.

"Frenice?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you know those guys?"

More silence. Then:

"It would not have been very wise if we tried talking in a public place, wouldn't it?"

"So then let's start talking," I snapped, clenching my fists. "Going any further down this road will lead us downtown, and that's not a good place to go to on Friday nights." I was about to question him if this was about what happened this morning when I remembered he had approached me five days prior, before I was witness to a robbery at a local rest-station.

"It's okay. I know a place."

Something in his voice made me pause. He drove with his right hand comfortably on the steering wheel, his left . . . his left arm was resting on his lap. The same gun he used to shoot someone was now angled up at me.

"I thought you said you wouldn't hold me at gunpoint!"

"Relax, girl. Sit back."

Glaring at the gun, I shifted myself back into a normal sitting position, my pulse quickening - as if it wasn't going jet-speed already.

"This is just to ensure you will not force me to get into an accident. So as long as you sit patiently without making any threatening movements, you should be fine."

I felt my nostrils flare at the comment, however I did not reply. Whether or not it was because of the fury building up in my chest, or fear, or both, I could not say. There was only one other time where someone aimed a gun at me, and at the time I was too distracted to know it. Hadi had saved the day on that one. It did not take a genius to know that luck was not about to strike me again. So I sat, angry, and wondered how the hell I was going to get out of this one.