Worst Behavior | KNJ

Chapter 2: No Rest for the Wicked

The dim light in the room cast long, jagged shadows across the walls as I settled deeper into the worn leather chair. The haze of smoke, lingering from the cigars we'd been puffing on for hours, mixed with the sharp scent of whiskey, making the air thick and stifling. My fingers drummed against the armrest, a habitual tick that echoed the rhythm of my thoughts—slow, methodical, always calculating.

Across from me, Derrick Richmond, or Rob, sat with his head slightly tilted, leaning forward as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. He let out a low chuckle, sniffing hard as he wiped away the remnants of cocaine clinging to his nose.

"That shit's disgusting," I muttered, shaking my head. The disgust in my voice wasn't subtle. I never understood how any of us, involved in this life, could use the very product we pushed. It was a line I refused to cross, despite everything else I had compromised.

Rob's grin stretched wide, teeth on full display, his glassy eyes blinking lazily as the drugs took hold. "You puff on those cancer sticks, Namjoon. Same poison, different method."

I laughed dryly, pushing myself off the chair and walking toward the window, where the city buzzed with life beneath us. "Incomparable, and I barely even smoke them anymore."

"Still," Rob slurred, taking another drag from his cigarette. "We all got our demons, brother."

The door creaked, interrupting the silence that followed, and in walked Blue—Michael Singleton. He strode in like he owned the place, all swagger and easy confidence. Blue always had that way about him, his tall frame and sharp jawline-catching eyes whenever he entered a room.

"What's good?" Blue's voice boomed, cutting through the haze. He flashed that wide, charismatic smile that always seemed out of place in the grimness of our surroundings.

"Blue," I nodded in his direction. "Just keeping an eye on Rob, making sure he doesn't keel over."

Blue chuckled as he plopped down onto an armchair, tossing his coat over the back without a care in the world. "Wouldn't be the first time. You got anything for us tonight?"

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and DC, Dominic Cervantes, stepped inside, quiet as ever. His demeanor was cool, almost cold, like the guy never got rattled by anything. Where Rob was loud and reckless and Blue was the life of the party, DC was the type to sit in a corner, quietly observing, always calculating.

"Evening," DC greeted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, not bothering with any formalities.

"DC," I nodded, my gaze trailing him as he made his way to the small bar. The guy was a mystery. Despite working together for years, none of us really knew much about him. He kept his cards close to his chest, only speaking when he had something important to say.

"How're things looking, DC?" I asked, leaning back against the window.

"Complicated," DC replied, swirling his whiskey before taking a slow sip. His gaze met mine, sharp and calculating. "There were issues with the last shipment. Delays. Some of our people are nervous."

"What kind of issues?" I pressed, my brows furrowing.

"Nothing we can't handle," DC shrugged, his tone casual, but his eyes said otherwise. "Just a few misunderstandings with the suppliers. We'll sort it out."

I let out a slow breath, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. "We don't need any more problems right now. Fix it, alright?"

DC simply nodded, his expression unreadable. The guy was a pro at keeping his thoughts hidden, but I could see the gears turning in his head.

Before the conversation could continue, the heavy, unmistakable creak of the front door signaled Samuel Lawrence's arrival. The room stilled, an unspoken tension settling over us like a blanket. Samuel wasn't a man you ignored when he walked into a room. His presence was commanding, his stature tall and broad, carrying the weight of both authority and something more—something almost fatherly, especially toward me.

"Evening, gentlemen," Samuel's voice was smooth, deep, and resonant. He stepped in, his tailored suit perfectly pressed as if he hadn't just come from a full day of running this operation.

"Samuel," I greeted, rising to my feet along with the others. He wasn't just our boss; he was something more. Especially to me.

Samuel gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, his eyes sharp as they flicked over us. He didn't miss a beat, catching Rob's slightly glazed look and Blue's relaxed posture. He was always assessing, always knowing.

"I trust things have been running smoothly." Samuel asked, his gaze finally landing on me.

"We've had some hiccups," I said, meeting his gaze. "But we're on it."

Samuel hummed, his lips quirking just slightly in amusement at Rob, who was still grinning despite the heaviness of the atmosphere. "Rob, how many times do I need to remind you that your 'antics,' as you call them, won't end well?"

Rob chuckled, his grin faltering just a bit under Samuel's scrutiny. "I'm clean, boss. Just trying to keep it light, you know?"

"Trouble finds us whether we seek it or not," Samuel said, his voice lowering a fraction. "You may not be doing the hard stuff, but don't forget—it's all the same game. You step over one line, and the next one is that much easier to cross."

The room fell silent, Rob swallowing hard, the playful glint in his eye replaced with something more serious.

"Good," Samuel continued, "Keep it that way. We've been on borrowed time lately."

Blue, trying to shift the mood, chimed in with his usual upbeat tone, "We've got a new shipment tomorrow. Everything's lined up."

Samuel's gaze lingered on Blue for a moment before he nodded slowly.

DC, ever the silent observer, chimed in, "We're managing it."

Samuel's eyes settled on DC, a flicker of something passing between them—respect, maybe, or acknowledgment. "Keep it tight, Dominic. I expect nothing less from you."

Finally, Samuel turned toward me, his expression softening just slightly. "Namjoon, how's your grandmother?"

I felt a pang in my chest, thinking about her. "She's... hanging in there. The new care plan seems to be working, for now."

Samuel nodded, his gaze softening just slightly. "Family's everything. You know that. You take care of her."

I nodded. Samuel always had a way of reminding me about the importance of family, even in this mess we called a business. I knew how much he cared about Diavian, about the bonds that tied us all together. And, in some strange way, that care extended to me.

With one last glance around the room, Samuel said, "Stay sharp. All of you."

As he walked out, the tension that had been lingering finally dissipated, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

"Well, that was fun," Blue said, stretching in his chair, trying to shake off the weight of the encounter.

Rob groaned, rubbing his face. "Fuck, he's right. I gotta clean my act up."

"We all do," DC muttered, his voice low as he sipped his whiskey.

I stayed quiet; the weight of Samuel's departure hung in the air as the rest of the room seemed to shift back into motion. He wasn't just our boss—he was more than that. And in the world we were in, that kind of loyalty meant everything.

Blue tossed back his drink, muttering something about needing another round, while Rob made a show of stretching his legs across the coffee table, hands behind his head as if to signal he was ready to move on. But my thoughts were stuck, circling everything Samuel had said, everything I'd been dodging in the silence of my own mind.

The truth was, I liked this life. I liked the control it gave me—the way I could move through spaces I never would've touched without Samuel's trust. The money meant I could afford the apartment I always dreamed of—not some dingy spot shared with three other guys, but something real, something mine. And the wardrobe... I wasn't blind to the fact that having a closet full of tailored jackets, sneakers, and high-end art pieces fed some part of me I didn't talk about out loud.

The problem was Diavian. She couldn't know that I wasn't looking for a way out. Her loyalty to me would make that conversation complicated. She'd always had this idea, ever since we were kids, that I'd grow out of this life, that I was better than what we did. And maybe that was true once, but I'd settled into this reality now and built something that felt... stable. For all the mess it was, it gave me control. It made sense to me.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts down again. Rob had shifted into some tangent about how we should be expanding into new territories, but I wasn't paying attention.

As the evening wore on, I found myself stealing glances at DC, who sat quietly at the far end of the room, sipping his whiskey like it was an anchor to keep him grounded. His eyes scanned the room with that usual detached focus, but there was something different about him tonight—maybe it was the conversation earlier about setbacks, or perhaps the way Samuel's words had landed. I couldn't tell, but I knew him well enough to sense when his mind was elsewhere.

DC had always been an enigma. He didn't waste words and didn't posture like the rest of us. He preferred silence, letting others fill the gaps. But there was one topic that could draw him out of that shell every time—Laila. His wife was his soft spot, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide it when she came up in conversation.

I leaned back, swirling the remnants of my drink and nudging him with a smirk. "How's Laila been, man? It's been a minute since you mentioned her."

DC paused, his glass of whiskey hovering at his lips. He didn't answer right away, but I saw the shift in his expression—that faint twitch of a smile, the one he always tried to hide but never could. He tried to fight it, like always, but it was a losing battle.

"She's good," DC mumbled, taking a long sip of his whiskey in a clear attempt to hide the blush creeping up his neck. His eyes darted to the floor as if the answer were written there.

"Good?" I pressed, grinning. "Come on, bro, you've got more to say than that. Don't make me beg." The way he shifted in his chair, trying to play it off, told me everything I needed to know. DC never talked much, but if you brought up Laila, he couldn't help himself. The guy was whipped, but in the best way.

DC cleared his throat, running a hand over his chin, but the grin broke free anyway. "She's... doing really well, actually. Keeping me in line. Started a new job a few months back, managing that art gallery near the waterfront. You know how she is—makes everything look easy."

"You sound whipped," Rob piped up from his spot on the couch, but it was lighthearted, teasing. Everyone knew DC was the quiet type until you got him talking about Laila.

"She's good for him," Blue added, reaching for the bottle to refill his drink. "Ain't that right, DC? She's the one thing you'd smile about."

DC didn't answer right away, but he didn't need to. The faint blush creeping up his neck as he took another drink of whiskey was all the confirmation we needed. Even Rob, who could be relentless in his teasing, let it drop, smirking instead.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was always the same whenever he talked about Laila. DC, the stoic one, the guy who could stare down danger without flinching, turned into a flustered mess whenever his wife came up. And honestly, it was kind of beautiful.

"That sounds just like her," I said, giving him a knowing look. "Is she still on your case about that vacation?"

DC exhaled sharply, his blush deepening. He tried to hide his smile behind the glass again, but it was no use. "Yeah... she wants to take some time off. She's been dropping hints about Paris."

"Paris, huh?" I whistled. "Classy. You gonna take her?"

DC finally looked up, his expression softening as he stared at the amber liquid in his glass. "Yeah. She deserves it." His voice was low, almost reverent. "I just need to figure out when I can step away from all this without leaving a mess behind."

I nodded, understanding the struggle. Balancing this life with anything outside of it was nearly impossible, but if anyone deserved a break, it was Laila—and by extension, DC. He had always been the glue that kept things together behind the scenes, working tirelessly to ensure the business ran smoothly, but it was clear that Laila was his true peace.

I couldn't help but poke a little more. "You should invite her out sometime. Let us see how the legend herself handles you in public."

DC laughed, a rare sound, his usual composed expression cracking just enough to show the affection he couldn't quite hide. "She ain't about all that. You know she stays out of this mess."

"She's lucky to have you," I said quietly.


I nodded, feeling a pang of something that felt like jealousy, but it wasn't aimed at DC. It was more about the simplicity of it—the way he had this other life outside of the madness we lived every day. Laila was his, and she was untouchable by this world. She grounded him. And I... well, all I had was this. The business. The lifestyle.

And Diavian, but not in the same way. Our friendship had roots deeper than all of this, but the way I hid parts of myself from her lately made it feel disingenuous. I kept her at arm's length when it came to the business. The thought of her knowing the truth—that I wasn't looking for an exit, that I wasn't trapped—felt too heavy to carry.

DC's eyes flicked to mine, and he gave a small shrug, but the smile that lingered on his face said everything. In this world, where loyalty was often measured in favors and fear, Laila had somehow become the anchor for the one man who seemed unshakeable.

"Nah," he murmured, his smile still playing on his lips. "I'm the lucky one."

DC was the lucky one. He had both worlds. He could sit here with us, a part of this life, but go home to something clean, something real. Me? I was too deep in the game, and I wasn't sure I wanted out. I was comfortable here.

"Alright, leave him alone," I said, chuckling and pulling back to save DC from any more teasing. "He's got enough to deal with. Let him have his peace."

But even as I said it, I knew there was no real peace for any of us. We were always one move away from everything collapsing, always balancing between loyalty and survival.

Blue shifted in his seat, refilling Rob's glass before pouring one for himself. "So, what's the word on the shipment, Namjoon? You feel good about it?"

I nodded, glancing at the clock. "Everything's lined up. Should be smooth. No surprises."

"You say that now," Rob muttered, leaning forward to grab his drink. "Just wait till we hit a snag. Something always goes sideways."

I shrugged. "That's why we've got a team. We'll handle it."

DC remained quiet, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching the way I navigated the conversation. He knew me better than most. Maybe he could see the tension building under the surface—the way I kept my thoughts locked down when it came to Diavian and my real intentions.

The room fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, each of us settling into our roles. Rob, always the loudest, kept the energy up with his banter, while Blue and I handled the logistics, making sure everything was lined up for the next move. DC, as usual, was the quiet observer, chiming in only when necessary, but the way his gaze flickered between us made it clear he was absorbing everything.

By the time we were done for the night, the haze of smoke had thinned, and the tension in my chest had settled into something more manageable. I checked my phone, half-expecting a message from Diavian, but there was nothing. She was probably home, doing her best to forget about this world, at least for a few hours.

As I stood to leave, I caught DC's eye. He nodded at me, a silent acknowledgment that carried more weight than any conversation we could've had. There was an understanding between us, a quiet acceptance of the roles we played, both here and outside of this room.

"Take care, man," I said, clapping him on the back as I headed for the door.

"You too, Joon," he replied, his voice low and steady.

The cool night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat of the room we'd just left. I shoved my hands in my pockets, my mind already shifting back to Diavian. I had to see her; I had to make sure everything was still the same between us. But I knew I couldn't be fully honest. Not yet.

The truth was, I wasn't looking for a way out. Not like she thought I was. This life had its perks, and I wasn't ready to give them up—not the money, not the clothes, not the status. It filled something in me, something that had been empty for a long time.

But Diavian... she couldn't know that. Not yet.

I pulled out my phone, fingers hovering over her name before I finally sent a message: You up?

It was late, but I knew she'd be awake. She always was. And as I made my way back to my apartment, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon, I couldn't shake the feeling that the lines I'd been crossing were starting to blur.