Revved Up Soul

Chapter 28

Luke

Gabriel's place was as ghetto as they came, but it was a sort of second home for Luke. He hated himself for thinking about Jasmine all the way there; was I really too hard on her? The strings of his heart tugged gently at the thought, he knew deep down inside that it was best – that lovely woman just wasn't cut out for the brutality that was The Life.

You did what you had to. That's why it hurts.

If anything happened to her . . . an invisible finger pressed firmly against Luke's chest. Doubt scratched at the corners of his mind and guilt gnawed at his soul, he'd never told her about Kayla; and even though Kayla knew he had his side chicks from time to time, she sure as shit didn't need to know a damn thing. What had once been a crush had long since turned into a massive regret, Luke felt stuck with her – he was just too involved with someone that didn't fit him right, and she was either too blind or too stubborn to admit the same to herself.

The living room of Gabriel's apartment was homely; there was a 40 inch TV that quietly sat, a long green couch, a beat-up coffee table stacked with a random assortment of junk, and a yellow rug against the beige carpet that really tied the room together.

Luke sank back against the old and musty couch, and particles of dust danced across the air. His necklace moved with him. It had been too long since he had last hung out with Gabe. It'd always felt like Robert was going to be his closest friend in life; Luke let out a slow breath, an ache blooming in his chest – Robert was, for a time, always second to Able, but in the end, it seemed only more and more true that Gabriel was the guy he could trust.

Turning on the TV, Luke flicked his gaze over to Gabe, who was heading over to the master bedroom. There was one spare room and a shared bathroom, neither of which extended out of the living room – the same going for the kitchen, only instead of being blocked by a door it was merely an open arch and a high rising counter with some stools on the living room's side. "I'm getting sick of Allen's shit," Luke brought a hand to his mouth and called out. "Complete denial about Rob."

He could hear Gabriel shuffling around, and then the man responded, rather simply, "Yeah. I hear ya."

Moments later, as Luke flipped through the channels aimlessly, Gabriel glided back into the living room with his glass bong and little baggie of weed in hand, the smallest of smirks etched on his face.

Luke looked over to the man and his lips curled into a smile, finding the football channel and leaving it on that, "That's not going to solve our problems," he commented.

Shaking his head in agreement, Gabriel sat the monstrosity of glass down on the dilapidated table, "It'll solve a problem," he replied, "now light up."

The two spent a good few minutes indulging and bickering about what they should order to eat, if anything. Eventually coming back to the subject previous. Luke folded his arms against one another, "If he ever gets ahold of that crown man."

"It shouldn't happen," Gabriel agreed, taking another hit of his bong. "It's supposed to be a democracy anyway."

"Democracy isn't democracy when fear is involved."

Gabriel shrugged, "There's never going to be a perfect system."

"That doesn't mean we get to settle for an imperfect one," Luke retorted. "To me, at least."

Gabriel opted for a simple nod of agreement. "There's nothing we can do, though," he said, "Robert's his son, no offense to you," he continued.

"Yeah."

"So . . . there's nothing more to discuss."

Pinpricks of heat danced across Luke's skull, his lips pursing together tightly.