Bad Boy Judah

s i x

Dark ghostly figures stand behind shaded windows of tall buildings. I watch Judah lean his back against the brown brick wall. We stay deep in a doubtful alleyway. My shoulders shake a bit. The temperature has gone down, which takes a toll on my skin. I look left and right and left again. I don't know why I'm here. 

Judah looks as though he's waiting for somebody. He looks right, left, and right too. I don't want to be around this sketchy place. The man next to me lifts his hand to light his cigarette. I keep quiet. So does he. We haven't said anything to each other since we got here. To my surprise, I haven't' made a complaint out loud. The silence between us contorts now, because Judah glances at me.

"What?" I question.

He doesn't say anything. He just keeps looking at me, smoking into destruction. I tear my eyes away and count the cracks in the concrete. My emotions get tangled inside me.

Finally, a shiny car pulls up beside us. I press myself into the wall, hoping to become a chameleon and blend with the background. Judah, on the other hand, takes a confident step forward. The Benz's window winds down, revealing a pair of men in black sunshades. They hush their words, and I don't even try to listen. The driver gives Judah a wad of cash wrapped in rubber bands. I watch him stuff it in his pockets.

"Have you seen the boss yet?"

Judah smirks, "He'll find me."

"Don't take too long," the shaded driver warns, "Brag is in New York."

"I know," Judah straightens his back.

There's a pause. The driver looks ahead.

"Do something stupid again, and I won't hold back."

Judah smirks and gives the man a wink, "Don't tempt me."

With that, the car drives off. The engine cries and groans in the distance. I look at Judah. He has such an ironclad personality, like he's afraid of nothing and no one. When he turns, giving me a glimpse of his light grey eyes, he carries a satisfied look on his face. I follow him to his car. I jump in and buckle my seatbelt. I need to remind myself that he's the bad guy here. I study the lines on my hands, just to avoid staring at Judah's jawline. I wonder how long I would live, if I kept this up.

"Many of those kind of guys hate me."

I look up at Judah, hearing his information. He focuses on the road ahead. I sit completely still, even though my nose itches. I don't understand why he's telling me this, nor do I understand the context of what he's saying. My mind can't even process whether he's talking to me or not. But I decide to speak up, since the silence is suffocating all on its own.

"Hate is a strong word," I tell him.

He smiles a bit and glances at me, "Is it?"

I look away, blushing. If I see him smile one more time... Now my mind trails off. I nearly miss the next thing he says.

"Hungry?" he asks me.

My mouth hangs open, failing to use words.

"Uh, uh—No, I'm fine."

"I'm hungry," he utters anyway.

I pout, wondering why we're having this conversation.

"Um," I start, taking a deep breath, "You can take me home. I—"

He darts his eyes on me, "Then who's going to watch me eat?"

I sew my lips shut and give him a long stare. There's no way to understand this guy. How is he serious? Why didn't he come with a manual? I internally scream.