The Tales of Flesh and Blood

Enter In The Discrete Friendzone

I was in the middle of fixing a simple bologna sandwich when I noticed Jet moving in my peripheral while the two dimwits argued over whether or not dandruff counted as humans shedding their skin. Screwing the lid to the mayo back on, I tossed it into my depressingly disappointed fridge.

"Why'd you all come here?" I asked, leaning against the countertop as I watched the tattoo artist. He gave me a nod, reaching over to snatch a bag of chips Hadi had set on the opposite counter.

"Someone's gotta make sure Dumbass One and Two stay out of trouble, and I'm not doing that by myself."

"And you think I'd be the best person to help with that?"

He shrugged, popping a chip in his mouth. Our two friends' arguing was getting louder by the second.

"Better than nothing."

"Oh, shut-up," Stefen snapped suddenly from behind, reaching over Jet to snatch the bag of chips from his hands. "You need to come up with better excuses, dude. I wouldn't be here if Tria didn't make shit more interesting."

Jet scoffed, shoving the shorter boy. "Unlike you, I'm not aiming to get in every girl's pants."

"No, just Hale- Hey!" Jet grabbed his chips back from Stefen. I took the moment to shove my mouth full of cheap white bread and meat, wishing Stefen would just shut up for once in his life. The four of us practically grew up together; Jet had moved out of the complex two years ago, but he owned a small tattoo shop with some buddies around the corner, so he still lingered around. So many times, we'd gotten ourselves into fights, crashed parties, got drunk on the side of the road, and even got arrested for petty crap over the years.

Lately, that's all been slowing down as life reared its ugly head, and as much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't confident that we'd be in each other's lives for much longer. At least, I knew Pen was planning on enlisting in the military the moment she turned eighteen - which was two weeks before my own birthday - and Stefen . . . Well, he's nineteen, but his hold on his family life was bound to snap any day, now.

I wouldn't be surprised if he just up and left in the middle of the night, never to be seen or heard from, again.

Which left just me and Jet, who's been scaring the hell out of me, and Stefen wasn't helping.

"We heard about last night," Pen said, joining us in my pitifully small kitchen. She walked past Jet, propping herself up on the counter next to him so that she, too, could reach in and snag a chip. "You really seeing someone?"

I didn't miss the way Jet's head tilted slightly at this, his lips curling into a frown. I kept my eyes on the only other female in this place.

"That was a mistake," I tried to explain, but Stefen was already grinning ear-to-ear.

"No way," he said. "I thought Ollie was just fibbin'. Who the hell is it?"

"No one," I snapped. "I got into some trouble. He was helping me out of it."

"By suckin' your face off?"

"So is it true?" Pen asked. "Garv said you were with some pimp last night."

I was going to fucking kill Garv the next time I saw him.

"He wasn't a pimp," I objected at the same time Stefen barked out a laugh.

"See? I'm not the only one going out!"

"At least she is getting paid for it-"

"It was a hitman, okay!" I hissed at the two assholes, who promptly quieted at the announcement. "Jeez, guys, I understand that you two like to fuck around, but I'm not my mother, okay?"