Only Memories Left

3. Juan Enzo Cavaller

^Juan^

Juan POV

"Fucking idiot, Dylan." My teeth sucked together making a loud raspberry, just thinking about this mess.

"I have a fucking prisoner in my fucking bed." My fingers glide through my roots, practically pulling the strands of hair out in aggression. My body gives into my urges: my fist swings with blinding rage, connecting with the stone wall. Smashing it over and over again and again til I couldn't feel my knuckles. I'm in a god damn fucking hallway punching a wall like an asshole..

"Deep breaths.. just deep breaths.." The words slips from each slow exhale. My eyes glimpse at my wounded knuckles; my brain alerting me that this was nothing knew. Each scar was from stupidity and each tattoo was to just make them look cooler.

"Uhh... Boss?" A male voice coated with caution called from behind me. An infuriated voice from my head sparked, didnt I tell these fucking idiots to never call me..

"It's fucking Cavaller!" My bloody-bruised knuckles pushed off from the stoned wall with irritation, spinning around like flash, forcing a wrathful eye contact with.. Artist? Didn't I tell this idiot to go home?

"Listen I know, you said to go home but I.." He speaks as he reads my mind it, his tone carried that pestering question vibe.

"No." I didn't care for the question, it's no.

"You ain't even know what I was finna ask." He complained. Then shaking his head with a chuckle, from my response.

"I don't care."

I took another deep breath. "Mann ya been up for two nights straight searching for Martinez.. we got big plans tomorrow morning, go home." I lean in with my left arm, prompting him to dab me up.

"Yea man, whatever." He answered back, then dabbed me up. But I already knew his dumbass wasn't done with the conversation.

"For real though, ya not gonna sell her off right?" His eyes spelled sincerity and curiosity.

"Come on bruh, we talked about this.." I shook my head in a disbelief, this idiot. "Artist.. MAN SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The braids from my roots shook again in disapproval.

"I get it you found the damsel in distress, but she's Martinez sister.. NEVER FORGET THAT!" I snapped at him. Female or not, that family can't be trusted. And even if I did end up selling her into trafficking... it ain't his business.

"Whatever man, I'll be here tomorrow at 8. Fuck you." His bitch ass ain't mean the fuck you part, but if he was any other bumass working for me.. I wouldn't let that shit slide.

As he walks down the hall, I shout back at him. "I ain't gay man!" I let out a loud snicker as he then flips me off not looking back.

"I really got to get a new fucking best friend." I huffed. A snarky smile forms upon my mouth, that idiot is irreplaceable. Been there for me since the 5th grade.

"I gotta get out of these bum ass hallways." Silently mumbling to myself, I'm in the middle of this crappy hall at one am when I should be sleeping. My focus diverts to the rustic door knob to my bedroom, where lays Martinez fucking sister. My hand reaches out to the knob slowly, then carefully pressing my ear to the door. Listening for anything that is alarming. That stupid bitch for all I know could of planned this whole mess to blow my brains out. Carefully, I twist the knob then release swinging the door open. The light from the hall exposes my bed showing the damsel and distressed girl.

I probably should just go to my crib instead sleeping at the trap...

"Still knocked out." My lips muttered, I was hoping she would be awake so I can have my bed. Her bitch ass was laying on my silk black sheets and $3,000 mattress. My feet scuffed harshly cross the glossy wooden floor to the right of the bed to snag a pillow or two along with a small throw blanket. To then flop myself on a cheap sofa in my room that probably had 20 different women cum on it from yesterday.