Flaming Roses

TWO}*{Arlo (POV)

I stopped by the Coffee Stop and made my way upstairs. It was about 10:00 a.m. and I had decided against going to school. I needed to pick up a package, but the guys were being stubborn. Nash had warned me about this. Why the hell do these people think they can just waste my time like this?  It was one thing to be cautious, but a whole other to be rude. I chuckled under my breath at the thought. I wished I could show these guys my version of rude. I could feel the cold metal of my CZ 75B on my waist. Nash said I had to be friendly to these people, they brought us good business. Beep beep. I looked down at my phone, it was Nash.

"they are ready. now."

I made my way through the cafe, giving the barista a look that said to keep her mouth shut. Hastily, I took the stairs two at a time, putting on a grim but serious look. As I walked up to the door at the top of the staircase, I was greeted my two buff men with scary looking FAMAS. I wasn't intimated. "I'm here for Nash," I announced, pulling my jacket the the side, revealing the handle of my gun. The one on the left nodded and looked at the one to his right. Something didn't feel right. Nash had told me multiple times to try my best not to trust them, but to seem like I did. I pushed away the thoughts, though I could felt goosebumps chasing up my back as I imagined picking up the gun. The one on the left opened the door. He seemed relaxed, but the second guy was intense, almost nervous. As I made my way past them, I made sure to make eye contact withe Mr. Pussy. I smirked at my little nickname. Inside the door was a little room, a bit bigger than an office. A large man behind a walnut desk motioned me over with a finger. 

"Aye. If it isn't Jumpsy?" he asked calmly. I picked up a sense of amusement. i nodded my head swiftly. He seemed humored, and let out a light chortle. "Do we have a mute here?" 

"Nah, I just prefer to save my breath for when I need it. Sir," I said lightly, trying to give off a lighthearted impression. Unlike Mr. Pussy back in the hall. He let out a throaty chuckled and stood up.

"Okay then Jumpsy, wouldn't want to waste your time. And Nash is bein' a bit of a' impatient bitch, huh. So here take this. Make sure to go down Main. The cops hanging around the back roads. Pussy ass bears." he muttered as he slid a package across the desk. I walked forward and picked up the package, not breaking eye contact the whole time. I then turned around and walked down the stairs. I noticed Mr. Pussy was trailing me. I decided to play it off. Instead of walking straight out the door when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I made a sharp right and walked up to the counter. Mr Pussy did the same, but when he turned the corner, his gun was gone. I looked at the barista. "Two medium coffees. Black," I told her. She nodded, not even looking at me, and turned around to get them. She pushed them over the counter. "Thanks." I said with a wink, not bothering to pay. I turned around with the cups and walked outside. Sure enough, Mr. Pussy followed me. I wanted to get this over with, Nash had made it clear that he needed the package quickly for something going on tonight. I nodded my head, looking straight forward, to signal that he could talk now.

"8:50. Diamond House. Top Gate room." He said blankly.

I swiftly nodded, handed him the coffee, and walked away. As I walked, I texted Nash that I was on my way to the warehouse, along with the information.

             "Tonight. There's a meeting. I want you to come. It's gonna be important. Bring the glock. I don't entirely know the guys there too well," Nash told me. I nodded. 

"What's the 'Top Gate room?" I asked. It was a hidden V.I.P. room the club owners had lent us, he said. I made my way out of the warehouse, back to my beat up Mercedes-Benz E55 AMG. I was on my way back to the headquarters, Nash's place. As I drove away from the abandoned warehouse we used for meetings, I looked up at the sky. It was grey, hints of blue in the edges of the thin clouds laced around the sun, which shined through weakly. It was a depressing sight. Memories of a similar day flashed in front of me. It was about four years ago. I remembered I had been on my way to tag the side of a new gang-house. As soon as I got out of the car, I sensed people watching me. I had been making my way around the small trashy house, when I was abruptly slammed into the wall. A loud smashing noise had run in my ears. I remember the consistent pounding of feet into my stomach, again and again. After about two minutes I stop feeling anything. I had gone unconscious. I opened my heavy eyes slowly, my head throbbing in rough waves. I could make out the faces of a couple of the guys. I had spent the rest of that day tracking them down. That night, I went straight to the gang-house and jumped four of them. One died. That's how I earned myself the nickname "Jumpsy". It was my first debut in  the new world I called my life.