Bad ➰Michael Jackson

Part 1

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Part 1

Cold. That's all it ever was these days, cold and slightly wet. The skies were almost always dark and dreary and the air was always damp—you can count on seeing your breath escape in the air in front of you. Cars were driving by faster than they legally should be, honking and splashing water everywhere. The sidewalks were littered with trash as per usual—if you were lucky some cleaning crew would come by to tidy up, but often than not you weren't.

Today was a day where the clouds were out (of course) and the sun was hiding. Shaka Zuree walks with her friends going in no particular direction, just following wherever their restless legs takes them. Her boots splash into wayward puddles as she strolls on, indifferent to the water now on her legs.

"It's fuckin' cold out here man. Where's mother nature at when you need her?" A deep voice to her right groans in distaste and Mini Max pulls his leather hat more securely down on his head. On his other side Arnold snorts, tugging his jacket up over his exposed ears.

"Please—think I needed to get checked for hyperthermia hours ago." He says as the wane light dances over his light skin.

She raises her eyebrows while continuing to walk on silently. Mike rubs his hand over his black mustache and chuckles deeply.

"It's enough to make me forgo those cold showers I've been takin' lately."

"Lately? You should be used to that by now." Max ridicules Mike and they end up in a playful shoving match, trying to knock the other onto the street. She turns around, walking backwards as she watches them fool with each other.

"Y'all are both stupid. Do you really expect anything less of New York? Where were you guys at all day anyway?" she asks, shaking her head at them. The accent that she was born with was cleverly hidden within an American one. Max lets go of Mike and smirks over at her, straightening his jacket collar.

"Out." He says simply.

"Out huh." She repeats, squinting her eyes at him.

"Yeah woman, out. Doing grown folk things." Arnold jumps in, shooting her a grin. Shaka rolls her eyes.

"You not gown till you get that unibrow fixed." She jokes earning an irritated look from him.

"Is she really talking shit again? Girl, don't let me have to mess you up." Arnold takes a threatening step forward and she shrieks, moving behind Mike and hiding behind his broad shoulders.

"Keep your hands to yourself, you always wanna touch somebody." She calls from the other side.

"It's because he doesn't get touched by anyone but his mama." Max joins in on teasing him and she watches as Arnold pushes his shoulder, sucking his teeth.

"Man, fuck both of y'all." He walks ahead of them.

She falls into step beside Max and Mike as they continue to talk and laugh to one another, Arnold coming back to them when he gets lonely. Even though it was chilly out, she rather be hanging with her friends than to being at home with her overbearing mother. She lives for the days when she can get away to the freedom of outside.

As they walk the sidewalks of downtown Manhattan, Shaka absently observes her companions as they outlandishly makes wild exclaims into the air.

Maximillian Cooper or 'Mini Max' as he likes to be called. Swears he's all that and a bag of chips. Preferring to call him simply Max, he was a close friend of hers. She would even go far and say best friend.  He was a good looking man with the smoothest, chocolatiest, darkest brown skin she's ever seen. His brows were thick and full, eyes a soulful black looking color with a full nose and lips. When he smiles, he reveals a set of white looking teeth and when he grins he produces a dimple in each cheek.