Revealed

2. Jeremy

*Picture of Jeremy*

All I ever hear from those nagging parents of mine are, "Blah blah, Jeremy, you need to change," or "Jeremy, how will you take over the business?! Blah blah." No one ever considers my feelings or ideas. What if I don't want to be a businessman? What if I want to ride around in the back of a garbage truck picking up trash from the front of every house and apartment while pretending to play basketball with it? But do they care what I want? Hell no. But that doesn't matter. It's MY life and MY body. If I want to be a criminal, then that's what I'll do. This is always my reasoning for when I'm asked, "Jeremy, how could you let yourself go to juvie?" I'm proving my point. No one tells me how to live.

"Yo Jay? You need some?" asks Phil. I look over towards him and take the bag he has in his hands.

"Jay, what are we gonna do when Harrison and his men come looking for us?" Nickson points out. "We take out each and every last one of them. That's what we do." Neal presumes. "Last time, we didn't make it. They had leverage on us. Now, they have nothing. No feelings involved. By the time I'm done with them, they'll run at the sound of my name."

The boys start muttering to each other.

"That's not how we run things, men. They're not going to come because they know we have something they want. And they won't get it unless they comply with our biddings." I remind the boys. They listen like the hungry dogs they are. "If under any circumstance they come, Neal, you already know the drill. Wipe them out. Faine, you stay with him and help. The rest of the boys and I will take the stuff and leave. You know where to find us."

"This was a nice little chat, but I have to go do a delivery now. It's a regular and he's not taking any more crap." Phil grabs his bags and makes his way out. Faine makes no movement and continues to stare into space. Blowing smoke into Faine's face, Nickson asks, "Not that I really care bro, but what's got you in the feels?" Faine coughs. "Shut up."

Nick rolls his eyes. "That's not the face of a greedy thief." The conversation got my attention. We just had a talk about not caring about anyone or anything and two minutes later, one of our men is in his fucking feelings? He better have a good explanation.

"You're such an ass. I'm thinking about something." Faine doesn't take his attention off the window.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Faine? By you caring about your 'family'," I say 'family' in air quotes, " you're giving Harrison something to use against us. And I can tell you right now, no one here is going to risk their life for a fucking 12-year-old girl."

Faine looks at me with a look on his face that could kill. "Whatever."

I know Faine. This type of thug happened to him often. He is always looking for different excuses. Today, I'm not in the mood for any shit, so I just let it go. "Let's go boys. I'm pretty sure we have a job to fulfill."

Faine, Nickson, Neal, and I put on our hoods and masks. Within 15 minutes, we are at a corner store. It's no big deal. The food is all over the shelves, aligned by type. Candy is placed at the register. I never understand that. It's like they're asking me to steal it. I squint my eye and look deeper into the shop. No one is in the there but the cashier who is closing up.

"This'll be slight work," says Neal.

Nickson waits in the car, still smoking, ready to leave when the time comes. Neal goes around the back, armed, where he waits for a signal. I cut the power.

"Hello? Is someone there?" utters the cashier shaking. He begins to start rushing to find a flashlight or even the front door. By the time he finds a light source and turns it on, Faine is already standing in front of him with his gun pointing straight out.

"Put all the money in the bag. Be quick with it."

I come around with the bag. It takes no effort for the man to jump back behind the register and unlock it with one of the keys on his overfilled keychain. Faine continued to point his gun as the bag is being filled. Such a classic move.

"There's no more money! Please, leave me alone!" pleads the man.

Faine, Neal, and I all run to the car and then Nickson drives away quickly. Through the rear mirror, I see a girl. She's pretty, astoundingly beautiful even, with long, wavy, black hair. I can't clearly see her face so I get up to face the trunk. Her figure becomes smaller and smaller fairly quickly until Nickson takes a turn and she disappears.

    She definitely saw us.