Lessons || MJ

Lessons || Chapter 23

THE KID

Joint funerals. Again.

I dropped my head in shame. Morris patted my shoulder as I thought of Leslie. Voices whispered both needs of strength as well as sympathy. My mother always felt humiliated, but my mind captured no other routine. Fitting into the norm rarely worked for me anyway. My father accidentally exposed gang life in during my high school years and I sadly felt hooked. Damn, John.

Marcus escorted limping Calvin as soon as damage their ended yesterday. Those sickos probably hid away in some cheap motel now. Bodyguards I'd known for years cried at Jesse's home-going for the first time in a while. These white-bearded and strong men shattered their pride for once, but I somehow kept it together after Denise's casket lowered further and further down into soil of Mother Earth.

At the compound, I finally pulled myself together worked out methods to find Leslie. Indiscreet members of the gang seemed to weave past authorities. Barely hiccupped as expected. I drummed a beat with the ball of my pen out of boredom My ears perked up like a dog when I heard footsteps entered this room. A lump formed in my throat due to rare edginess. The Glock still rested in my drawer just in case. Even partly opened now.

My cold stare watched two younger men walk into this place. Two of white-bearded guards tossed up pairs of hands, surrendering. I folded both arms and leaned back in my chair. Both of my heeled feet propped onto the desk. Unamused couldn't even begin to describe my feelings right now, but at least Calvin and Marcus didn't return. An awkward silence rounded this place before I spoke up.

"Who are you?" I asked the two. Younger than Tricky. One on the left side donned curly dark hair and skin probably close to my appearance. But still light. The other had been quite a few shades darker than Jerome. A leather hat fitted to the side of his head.

"I'm Maxwell Cooper. This is Darryl Jackson. Leather Hat answered while pointing to his friend. I didn't even what to think right now. Two more in the crossfire.

"Leave. Both of you will most likely die." I warned in a monotone. "And how'd you two get here anyway? This is supposed to be a restricted area, Leather Hat."

Max folded his arms and stepped away from that friend Darryl. Both glared at me with narrowed eyes. A muffled laughed never escaped my throat before he spoke up again. "We met Leslie and Yvonne during her witness protection at our college and hate Calvin as much as you do. That's all you should know."

I sat up immediately, captivated. My heart never imagined making friends in that situation. Wasn't keeping a low profile the reason for witness protect? Anyway, I digressed and quickly allowed them to sit across from me. Those two extra chairs had been vacant for a while since the funerals.

"So, what do you want exactly?" I still questioned, puzzled more than anything. Max spoke up again. Darryl fixated on a photograph of me and Leslie for whatever reason. I didn't know what to think of his cold glare, but kept the Glock drawer open in case anything popped off in his mind. I'd seen eyes like that too many times before.

"He needs to live six feet under." Darryl answered suddenly. "If Calvin spends even a second more alive, he's five steps closer to Leslie." Even Max glared out of shock. If anything, I'd make that kind of declaration first. Oddly, a sick smile crept onto my face and I shut the Glock drawer, partly eased. We were all the same page.

"Can both of you shoot?" I questioned. "No one's joining this party if you can't defend yourself against him." I waited. A blank expression captured my face, but my heart pounded in the name of anxiety.

They both nodded in silence. Thank God. "Well, if you're willing to keep a secret, let me properly introduce myself. I'm Nelson Prince Rogers. Boss and Murderer. This clique has no formal name, but mess with us and you'll still know who we are." Max and curiously looked down at the unknown gang logo stitched into carpet beneath them. Surprisingly, Max and Darryl wouldn't ask why I decided on a nameless clique.

Good for them and me. No father questions. I thought to myself. It wasn't very long before Darryl spoke up again. Thankfully, he didn't seem as morbid.

"How'd you meet Leslie?" Darryl asked. For once, we all smiled at this point. I thought back to wearing my afro at the diner. Morris barely adjusted for his lavish suit.

"The gang and I decided to walk out in broad daylight for breakfast. No once suspect anything and Leslie sat in a booth with Yvonne. My friend Jerome, a former member of this gang, walked up to Leslie asking for money. Morris allowed us to walk in there without any dough." I laughed for a second "Anyway, Leslie ended up getting coffee for all of us."

"How'd she react to the gang?" Max folded his arms once more.

I sighed before responding. "Obviously, it was hard in the beginning. I really liked her and we'd all warmed up to both ladies. It's not their fault Les and Vonnie know how to even pop a gun quicker than thinking."

"She...She can shoot?" Darryl hesitated. I knew he referred to Leslie by the terrified expression on his face. For some reason, Max poked out his bottom lip, hopefully understanding easier.

"Yes." I informed Darryl. Neither of her old classmates smiled in the name of her independence. Again, I didn't know what to think.

"Has she ever killed anyone?" Max reasonably questioned. A low quality lived in his voice by. I completely understood the apprehension and seriousness.

I shut my eyes and circled the wooden surface of this desk. A hallow silence fell in the expansive room. Both Max and Darryl seemed to pale in front of me.

"Only when necessary." I admitted.