SEVENS

RAVEN SKIN

   
"Your person is in fucking Los Angles?"

    "He's the best." Raf answers, handing the bag to the clerk behind the check in desk.

    "I don't get what that has to do with Los Angles." I had never been on a plane before. Maybe that was why I was choosing to be a shit about it, that or the fact that Raf woke me up at three am so we could catch our flight.

    "That's where the best live." Raf says while exchanging his i.d. and his card with the clerk.

    "So I suppose that's why you don't."

    "I never said I was the best."

    I rolled my eyes. "I never said I was the best." I mocked back. I looked around the terminal, noticing how even at this early hour it was still full of travelers.  When I looked back to Raf he was squinting at me. "What?"

    "I didn't know I was traveling with a minor." He said.

    "Wh— what do you—I'm not. A minor." How did he know? My fake i.d. was bullet proof, I had saved for two years for it.

    Raf began walking towards security but spoke loudly enough for me and everyone else checking bags to hear. "You're practically three and anyone under five gets to fly free."

    My heart settled. He didn't know. "Fuck you."

    "That's some big language for a three year old."

    Raf had pulled whatever strings he had at his disposal and gotten us into first class pre check which meant a painless shoes-on trip through security, though I had still been forced to take off my boot to check for any hidden compartments or baggies. Raf's clearance also meant we had an escort, in a zippy little buggy, who drove us through the airport straight to our gate.

"They're holding the plane for you Mr. Kahale. So take off should happen as soon as you board." The escort said. She had a pleasant smile which felt like an insult at this hour. I frowned. I had gotten up at this time daily only two months ago and now here I was exhausted out of my mind.

We were the last to board, though I was pretty sure even if we had been thirty minutes late they would have held up for us--well, for Raf. The captain climbing out of the cockpit to greet us only solidified that impression. Raf and the Pilot talked for a few minutes like they were old friends, I didn't pay attention though as I looked at the large lounging seats longingly. They were wide and leather clad and I could imagine myself sinking into one and falling asleep. When I looked back to Raf he was watching me with a little smirk. The pilot stood politely to the side with the assistants, as if they were all waiting for Raf's say-so. Raf motioned to the two open seats at the front of the row, right behind the cockpit. If I hadn't been so exhausted and my foot wasn't broken and throbbing I would have questioned the prime seating but as it were I didn't give a shit.

I didn't even have to slide to get into the window seat, the leg space was big enough that Raf and I could have played a little skirmish if we really wanted. I threw myself into the window seat, curling my legs under me and pulling my sweatshirt hood over my mead before deciding I was adequately comfortable. Once Raf was done talking to the Pilot he came to sit next to me, sending a smile to the passengers behind us.

After he was comfortable beside me the door to the plane closed and I could hear the whirring of the air system turn on. I was asleep before the plane took off.

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We didn't stop at the hotel. That was Raf's second slight of the trip, the first being waking me up at four in the morning. His third strike came when he wouldn't let me lay out on the back seat of the Lyft because I quote: "Wasn't a child and needed to stop acting like one". So all together I was pissed at him and not even the L.A. sunrise was cheering me up. As we pulled up to a glass sided building though, I realized my mood was more from nerves than Raf.