Beautiful (AU,M/M, MATURE) 10/31/04 [COMPLETE]

[April]

Title: Beautiful

Author: April

Disclaimer: Most characters are not mine, but all of the situations, conflicts, and plot twists are.

Summary: Her life was nothing until he made it something. His life was ugly until she made it beautiful.

Category: M+M AU

Rating: MATURE

Author’s Note: Very AU with lots of character interaction and development. I have absolutely NO knowledge of what I’m writing about, so let me know how I did with some KIND feedback, okay? Thanks!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Los Angeles, California

Club Funk was crowded. Well, Club Funk always seemed to be crowded, especially on Friday nights, but on this particular night, it was even more packed with people than usual. Khia was performing her infamously naughty hit, “My Neck, My Back,” and everyone who wanted to get their groove on was, and everyone who wanted to get a little more on than that was, too.

Maria DeLuca was dancing with a friend and some complete strangers. She’d been approached by a few guys, trying to hook her with stupid pick-up lines, but she’d turned them all down. She wasn’t here to get it on like some were, even though Khia was singing that song. She was here to dance.

She’d been dancing for hours, and she was completely exhausted. The sweat was dripping down her body like a waterfall, and she felt like she might collapse if she kept going any longer, but she couldn’t stop.

“Maria, I think we should leave,” Liz Parker, her best friend, was saying over the music. Maria could barely hear her. Liz had a quiet voice, and it was easy to confuse what she was saying or not even hear her at all sometimes.

“Why?” Maria asked her. “It’s awesome tonight.”

“I know,” Liz agreed, “but you look like you’re about to die of heat exhaustion any second now, and . . .” She pointed over to the entrance of the club, and Maria saw them walking in. “That’s why.”

They just strolled on in like Club Funk was part of their territory. The two guys smirked as they watched the girls dancing around them, and the two girls immediately lost themselves on the dance floor.

Maria hated them. She hated the enemy. She hated Darkstreet.

“Yeah, I guess we better get outta here,” she agreed with Liz, still hating the thought of leaving. “Let’s go.”

The two girls hurried and found their other two friends, Kyle VaLenti and Alex Whitman. Kyle was making out with some girl he didn’t even know in the back of the club, and Alex was flirting up a storm by the bar. However, when they learned that four powerful members of Darkstreet had shown up, they left in a hurry.

“Do you think we’re cowards for leaving?” Alex wondered aloud as they made their way down the dark, crowded sidewalk toward the only home they knew.

“No, I don’t think we are,” Kyle said. “Dude, we could’ve been committing suicide if we’d tried to take them on with just our fists.”

“And nails,” Maria added, wriggling her fingers in the air with a grin.

Alex smiled. “I guess you’re right. But we better not let Slick know that we retreated.”

“Alex, we didn’t retreat,” Maria reminded him. “We just left. Slick never even has to know that Darkstreet showed up there.” The truth was, Slick could never know. Their leader was the type who was capable of killing someone if they retreated in battle, in a chance to win a fight with the enemy.

They walked the rest of the way back to the crib in silence. When they reached their destination, Liz, Kyle, and Alex went inside right away, but Maria didn’t. She stood outside for a few minutes just looking at the crib, taking it in with all of her senses.

She couldn’t believe that this was her existence. She used to have so much more.

As she stood out there alone in the cold in the middle of the night, her thoughts began to drift, and her memories began to come to the surface again. Memories of what she had only a few short years ago. She saw a huge white house with a red Convertible and a black Jaguar parked out front and a large, sparkling swimming pool out back. She saw a loving, beautiful mother standing on the porch with her arms out, ready to embrace her daughter as she got off the school bus and came home from her first day of high-school.

And then she saw the next day. She saw the principal coming and getting her out of class. She could almost hear fragments of his speech as he told her what happened.

“Car accident . . . mother . . . dead . . .”

She saw herself after that when they told her that she would have to go live with her father, and she felt her whole body begin to shake and tremble at the thought of living with a man who hit her mother every day and tried to touch his daughter every night before the divorce.

She saw herself running away that night as a clueless fourteen year-old child with nothing but the clothes on her back. She saw herself finding Slick at the crib, and she saw him inviting her in for the night. She saw herself a few short weeks later, grimacing as the tattoo artist put BlackCon on her back and she was initiated into the gang.

“Maria?” Slick’s voice broke the girl out of her thoughts, and she jumped in surprise.

“You comin’ in for the night or what?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I am. I was just thinking.”

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her into the crib.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Probably a little too much.”

She walked into the lower level and saw that there was a party going on. A few of her friends were acting like idiots, dancing around in an insanely drunken manner, and a few were sitting around laughing at each other’s jokes.

They all looked happy, somehow. Maria wished that she could be happy living with BlackCon, being part of a gang, but she couldn’t. These people, Slick, Liz, Kyle, Alex, everyone else . . . they never had anything better. They were all born into a life of poverty and crime, and the gang life had seemed like the only way to go, the only option. But it pained Maria everyday to think of the life she’d once had, the beautiful life she’d once lived until everything came crashing down in one fatal instant when her mother’s breaks wouldn’t work.

Maria felt tears stinging her eyes as she thought about her mother, and she hurried upstairs before Slick or anyone else could see them. She ran up to the third floor and down to the end of the hallway to her bedroom. Her quiet, peaceful bedroom. It wasn’t glamourous, but it was comforting, in it’s own way. It was away from the noise and the partying, and it was the closest thing around here to a home.

Maria collapsed on her bed, hearing the springs squeak as she moved around and found the covers. She knew that it was weird for any BlackCon member to contemplate going to sleep at night. God, the whole gang was practically nocturnal, but sleep was an escape, and sometimes she just needed to escape from reality altogether.

She was different from BlackCon in that way, and in the fact that she had chosen to be a part of the gang. She was different from them in another way, too, a way that would tear at her mother’s heart.

She was only seventeen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Dude, did you see how they left in a hurry when we showed up?”

Michael Guerin nodded, smiling. “Of course I did. They ran outta there like a bunch of little bitches.”

Max Evans, Michael’s best friend, smiled, too. Max and Michael both really enjoyed being able to have some sort of power over BlackCon. Just seeing them scurry out of that stupid club was pure entertainment.

“They’re so stupid,” Isabel Evans, Max’s sister and Michael’s bed-partner, commented. “I mean, did they actually think that we were showin’ up at Club Funk to party?”

“Yeah, they ain’t exactly the brightest things,” Tess Harding added. Tess was Max’s girlfriend and Isabel’s best friend. Michael only put up with her because he had to. He really couldn’t stand the girl.

“The people at Club Funk are aight,” Isabel said, wrapping her arms around Michael’s waist and linking her thumbs into his belt loops as he walked, “but the music’s shit. Rap ain’t da bomb no more.”

Michael let his friends do most of the talking as they continued on to the Darkstreet crib. He could hear rock music banging as he approached, and it was then that he realized how different the two gangs were. It was little things like the fact that Darkstreet liked rock and the fact that BlackCon liked rap that showed how truly unalike the gangs and the people in it tended to be.

That wasn’t why Michael hated them so much, though, and it wasn’t why Max, Isabel, and Tess hated them, either. There’d been a feud going on for years now between the rival gangs, and it didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon, and Michael would be damned if he let those losers triumph.

Losers. Yeah, they were losers. Seeing four of their members run out of Club Funk only proved that. They were cowards. If it had been Michael, and if BlackCon members had been intruding upon Club Bang, the best rock club in the area, he’d have fought back, whether he was armed or not. Sometimes, one didn’t need guns and knives to fight.

It was at times like these that Michael was glad that he was a part of Darkstreet and not BlackCon.

Max and Tess disappeared into the crib immediately, heading up to their bedroom where they’d probably go at it for a few minutes before heading back down to join the party.

“So, Mikey, you gonna fuck me tonight or what?” Isabel asked, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Her breath tickled his skin, making him want to shiver.

“What’d I tell you about calling me Mikey?” he asked her in return.

“Whatever, man, just answer the question,” she said, unhooking her fingers from his belt loops and running them down lower on his body until she had him in her hands.

“I don’t know, Isabel,” he choked out, struggling to keep his breath as she handled him through the denim of his jeans. “That depends. Have you been a good girl lately?”

Isabel leaned forward again. “Oh, no, Michael. I’ve been a very, very bad girl, lately. Very bad.”

Michael pulled her around to his front, loving the mischievous smirk he saw playing on her lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Within minutes, they’d made their way up the stairs and were in their own bedroom, rolling around on the bed and tearing each other’s clothes off.

“FUCK!” Isabel screamed as he entered her without warning. He began to move inside of her, enjoying the mix of pain and pleasure etched into her facial features.

All at once, though, when he was almost to his brink, the door swung open. Michael turned back and saw his leader Nix entering the room. Nix was the type of guy who was so terrifying in appearance that he could compare to the greatest evil of all time, and he could conquer.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, “but we’re off.”

“Off to where?” Michael asked, pulling out of Isabel and covering himself up.

“To the BlackCon crib,” Nix answered, opening up the side of his jacket so that Michael could see the gun and the knife hidden inside.

“Nice,” Michael remarked. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Nix nodded and closed the door.

“Michael!” Isabel shrieked, slapping him a little too hard on his shoulder. “I was so close! Why we gotta leave now?”

“‘Cause I’m not gonna miss the chance to fight the enemy,” Michael replied, stepping back into his pants.

“We fight them every night,” Isabel reminded him, “and no one ever wins. It’s just a waste of time. You can’t tell me you’d rather be fightin’ them than,”—she moved her hand down over her body to her throbbing core, inserting a finger inside of herself—“having me.”

Michael shrugged. “Sorry, babe. Maybe tomorrow night.” With that, he pulled his shirt over his head and headed out the door, slamming it behind him to let Isabel know loud and clear that he wouldn’t be coming back for awhile.

Isabel was . . . well, she was beautiful in a dangerous sort of way, but there was something about her that destroyed that beauty. Maybe it was the fact that she had been touched so many times by so many different people, or maybe it was just the fact that she was so goddamned desperate for him all the freakin’ time.

Michael put on his shoes as he hurried down the stairs. He met up with the rest of the gang just as they were heading out the door. He fell on into the front of the line beside Nix, taking his place as the second in line.

The rock music continued to blare as they marched forward, a sort of anthem to their quest, a sort of sign of their undeniable victory.

[April]

Thank you for the feedback! I wasn't expecting any so soon!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria had just fallen asleep when she woke up again, this time to the sound of a door crashing down and windows breaking from downstairs. She sat up in bed slowly, taking her time to wake up again. Whatever was going on down there, she was sure the rest of the gang could handle it without her.

Minutes later, though, Liz came bursting in the door, blood smeared over her shirt.

“Liz, are you . . .” Maria began to ask.

“I’m fine,” Liz answered hastily, “but Kyle’ hurt.”

“How bad?” Maria asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and slipping her feet into her shoes.

“Shot in the stomach,” Liz answered. “He should be okay, though. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

Liz scurried around the room collecting any kind of weapon she could find, and Maria hurried and did the same, though she was still very not awake. She knew it would be some time before the enemies made their way up to the third floor, and she knew that, when they did, as they undoubtedly would, she would have a hard time fighting them if she didn’t wake up first.

“I’m gonna go try to help Kyle,” Liz announced, heading over to the door with a gun in her hands. She checked to make sure it was loaded and glanced in Maria’s direction once, sending her a smile, just in case it was her last. You never could be too sure if you were going to live or not in a gang battle. You couldn’t make plans for a future, because you didn’t know if you were going to have one or not.

“I’ll be down in a bit,” Maria called after her best friend as she disappeared out the door, her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders swinging left and right as she made her hurried exit.

The shouting was dying down below as Maria changed from her red tank top to a black sweater. (There was something about skin that seemed to attract all of the Darkstreet members.) The shots fired were less, but at the same time still many. Maria couldn’t help but smile to herself as she wondered why the cops had never busted either of the two gangs. Everyone in the city knew about Darkstreet and BlackCon and the feud that had been raging between them for more than a decade, but no one chose to do anything about it, because they were and always would be cowards.

Maria picked out her best knife and gun and spun around, preparing to head downstairs. The doorway, however, was blocked. Blocked by the enemy.

The three men stood in the doorway staring daggers at her, menacing grins spreading across all of their faces. Maria recognized all three of them. Their leader, Nix, was probably one of the most recognizable faces around the entire city. One could not forget him and his appearance. He was . . . well, he was ugly to say the least. He had hair dyed a mix of dark red and bright red, making it seem like he walked around all night and day with flames on top of his head. He a tattoo running across his forehead that read “REBEL”, and he had more piercings on his face than he had features.

The other two men were the two guys who’d shown up at Club Funk that night. Max Evans was the dark-haired one. He was known as a threat to the BlackCon gang because he had strength, intelligence, and charm, and when he used his abilities, he could cause some serious damage. He was good-looking, that was for sure, but he’d once had the reputation of being somewhat of a womanizer. It was reported that he used to hang out on dark street corners waiting for a prostitute to give him an offer at least three times a week before he met Tess Harding.

Michael Guerin was the other guy. Maria had seen Michael around a lot before, but she’d never actually been this close to him. Now that she was, she understood why people called him “The Hulk”. It was clear that his physical strength could not be challenged. It was also clear that he was extremely confident in his abilities. Even though Maria stood with a gun in her hand, he kept his stuck in his back pocket as if he weren’t even worried.

He was intimidating, that was for sure, and she hated that he had the ability to intimidate her.

“I’ve seen you around,” Nix said, his voice sounding exactly like that of a snake. He stepped forward slowly, keeping his gun in his hand, just in case he had to use it.

“I’ve seen you, too,” Maria replied, trying to act as unafraid as possible. Then, she muttered under her breath quietly, “Unfortunately.”

Nix twirled his gun around in his hands. “Fellas, she’s all yours,” he told Max and Michael. “Do whatever you want with her. I got better things to do.” With that, he left the room. Max shrugged and followed, clearly as uninterested in harming Maria DeLuca as Nix was.

But Michael stayed, and he strolled on into the room smiling, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Nice little space,” he commented. “Too bad I’m gonna trash it when I get done with you.”

Maria gripped the gun tighter, wondering what, exactly, it was that he was going to do to her.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked, coming closer to her.

“Why do you care?” Maria shot back.

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just, in the gang society, you know, everybody knows who everybody else is, and when nobody knows your name . . . well, that just means you aren’t really important.”

“I am important,” Maria told herself more than him.

“Important for what?” He continued pounding down on her. “For sex?”

“I am not . . .”

“You know,” he continued, grabbing onto her wrists so hard that it caused her to drop her gun in surprise. “I might be able to use you for that purpose all night long.”

Maria tried to stay calm, though she was freaking out inside. She’d heard about this a lot, how guys raped girls a lot of times before they killed them. She’d rather just die right away than go through all of that.

She stood like a stiff board in his arms, hoping that she seemed as confident as he did.

He leaned closer and whispered quietly in her ear, “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck off,” she answered.

He laughed a fake laugh. “Oh, cute,” he said sarcastically. “Just say it, bitch. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

She remained silent.

“Tell me you want me to hurt you,” he continued, pushing her down on top of the bed, pinning her small body beneath his larger one so that she was trapped. “Tell me you want me to cut you with this knife,”—he reached over on the bed and picked up Maria’s own knife—“while I’m cummin’ inside of you.”

She was really scared, now, scared of what he could do to her, scared of the fact that she was not strong enough to stop him, but at the same time, not desperate enough to call for help. She knew he could see the fear evident on her face, because he started to laugh.

“Having fun yet?” he asked her, lifting her sweater up a little ways to reveal her smooth, flat stomach.

“Please, don’t.” She resorted to full-out begging. It was possibly her only hope.

“What? This?” He ran the knife over her stomach lightly, not enough to cause a serious injury, but hard enough so that she could feel it.

“Please, just stop,” she said again. “Please.” Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She knew she was weak, and she knew that Slick and the other BlackCon members would frown upon this, but she couldn’t help it. She was just a child.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked her eagerly. “Are you in pain?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip as he ran his fingers over the cut on her stomach.

He grunted. “You don’t know shit about pain.”

Something inside of her snapped as he said this, and she felt her strength return again. Her muscles tensed and her eyes narrowed and she growled out, “You don’t know all that I’ve been through.”

“Don’t give me that!” he told her. “I don’t give a shit about your life, bitch!” He seemed to be growing very angry very fast. “In fact, you know what? I should just kill you right now.” He clenched his hand around the knife tightly and ran the cool metal of it across her bare stomach. “Right now.”

Maria looked him right in the eye, and she told him what she thought. “Go ahead. It’s not like anyone would care.”

At that moment, though, just when she thought that he really was going to kill her, something inside of him seemed to reverse, and the cruel expression on his face softened. He put the knife back down on the bed and stood up. “What the hell am I doin’ wastin’ my time on you anyway?” he asked himself. “You’re not important.” With that, he turned his back to her and left the room almost in a hurry, almost as if he wanted to get away.

Maria struggled to sit up when she was sure that he was gone, holding her wounded stomach as she did so. This wasn’t a serious injury, but she’d still have to stitch herself up.

She walked down the stairs slowly, listening to the sounds of battle fading away more and more by the second as Darkstreet was leaving. She couldn’t help but wonder why Michael Guerin didn’t kill her. He’d certainly wanted to, and, and even though she hated to admit it, a small part of her had wanted him to, as well. Because if he had, there would have been no pain.

No pain . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael arrived back at the Darkstreet crib just as the sun was beginning to rise. He felt defeated. It wasn’t that BlackCon had won or anything. It was like Isabel said, no one ever won these battles. He just felt like he could’ve done more, like he could’ve been the cause of the great gang empire’s fall if only he’d had more fight within him.

He still didn’t know why he’d wasted his time on that girl upstairs when he should’ve been down helping Nix and Max with everyone else. He’d wasted a fight by playing with a girl who was relatively unimportant in the scheme of things.

Michael trudged up the stairs to his and Isabel’s room. Before he even opened the door, he knew that he’d find Isabel inside with someone else. He could hear her all the way down the hallway.

Michael opened the door and stepped inside, discovering that Isabel was with Jonathon, a guy who wore square glasses and plaid shirts. He was the biggest geek in history in Michael’s opinion, but the gang kept him around because he was intelligent, and intelligence was something that Darkstreet was definitely lacking.

“Holy shit, Isabel,” Michael said, his voice flat. “I’m gone for half an hour and you go right to makin’ it with Jonathon?”

“Fuck . . . you . . .” Isabel gasped as she thrust her hips up to meet Jonathon’s.

“You’ve already done that, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, and I wish I hadn’t.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that it hasn’t been the best sex of your life.”

Isabel smiled, and he knew she couldn’t.

All at once, Jonathon stopped moving on top of her. He turned to Michael. “Hey,” he said, “you know you’re kinda ruining the moment here.”

“There ain’t no moment!” Isabel shouted, pushing him out of her and off of her. “Just leave, Jonathon, I’m through with you.”

Jonathon, looking completely distressed that he hadn’t gotten to finish what he started, gathered up his clothes and put them on quickly, almost running out of the room before Michael could throw him out.

“No offense, Isabel, but you if you were gonna screw someone, you coulda picked someone better,” Michael commented, crossing to the other side of the room and turning on the CD player, the sound of rock music instantly filling the room.

“Everyone else was gone. I was desperate, aight?”

“Obviously.”

“Whatever.” Isabel motioned for him to join her in the bed. “How about you just come over here and finish what you started.”

Michael stared at her lying naked in the bed, waiting for him, waiting for his body, and he noticed that she looked dirty, tainted.

It was different with Max and Tess. They honestly were in love with each other, and, though they were not married, they’d sworn themselves many times to each other and only each other. Michael didn’t have that with Isabel, and he never would. He wasn’t even completely sure that he wanted it, but he knew deep down that he really did.

“Call me crazy,” he said, “but I’m really just not in the mood.”

Isabel seemed offended. “Not in the mood? How can you not be in the mood, Michael?”

He shrugged. “I’m just not.” He turned his back to her and started to walk out of the room, leaving the music going to drown out her insistent yelling.

“Go fuck yourself, Mikey!” he heard her shouting. “You sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ me no more!”

He knew that she didn’t mean that. They always had fights like this, and she’d always say that, but she never ever really meant it, and she never ever really would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We just gotta reassemble. Get ourselves back together and put ‘em in their place,” Slick was saying the next day at Julio’s Café, one of the many local restaurants and local hangouts for gangs like BlackCon. Many times, Julio’s had been the scene of one of the vicious battles between the two rival gangs.

“Yeah, puttin’ ‘em in their place is gonna be a little easier said than done,” Kyle reminded the group, placing his hand over his stomach, over his bullet wound.

“I gotta agree with Kyle on this one,” Alex piped up. “I mean, how many times have we tried to put ‘em in their place before, and how many times have we failed?”

“They failed, too,” Slick reminded everyone.

“That’s my point exactly,” Alex said. “No one ever wins.”

Kyle shifted around uncomfortably in the booth. “They almost won over me last night.”

Liz seemed to feel Kyle’s pain, and she tenderly placed her hand over his wound, gazing lovingly into her boyfriend’s eyes. Just looking at Liz made Kyle smile, and, for a brief second, he seemed to lose touch of all reality, and then Slick asked him, “So who shot you anyway?”

Kyle immediately snapped back into the very harsh and very painful reality known as everyday life. “Oh, uh, Michael Guerin, I think.”

“Oh,” Liz whispered quietly. “The Hulk.”

Maria, who’d remained quiet for most of the time, looked up at the mention of Michael Guerin, shaking her head. “I hate him,” she said quietly.

“I wanna beat the shit outta him,” Slick put in. “He’s such a little bitch.”

“Got that right,” Alex agreed. “Hey, I’m gonna head on back to the crib, try and get some sleep, you know?” He scooted outta the booth, and Liz and Kyle followed. Within seconds, the café had cleared and Maria and Slick were the only two BlackCon members still remaining. Maria really wanted to leave so that she could catch up on her rest, but Slick was sitting on the outside of the booth, and he didn’t look like he was planning on getting up anytime soon, and Maria didn’t have the authority to tell her one and only leader what to do.

“So, Michael Guerin . . .” Slick was saying. “He, uh . . . he didn’t lay a hand on you, did he?”

“Oh, he did,” Maria answered, “but,”—she shrugged—“whatever, you know.”

“Whatever?” Slick echoed. “Whatever? Maria, that ain’t right. He should know that no one can touch you.” His statement seemed to be the very essence of a paradox as he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted up the hem of her shirt slowly with his rough hands. “No one but me,” he added quietly.

It didn’t take long for him to coax her out back behind Julio’s. He pressed her up against the wall right next to the dumpster and lifted her shirt up all the way, along with the bra, exposing her bare, naked breasts. He put his hands on her, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

“You want me, baby?” he asked her. “You want me?”

“I want you,” she told him, though she really didn’t.

He brought his lips down to meet hers fast and hard, and in doing so, he accidently bit her lip. Maria tasted blood immediately, but Slick didn’t stop.

“Damn, girl, you got me so hard,” he murmured, pulling away from her. He removed his hands from her breasts only to undo his pants, his cock falling free.

Maria wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him to slow down. She wanted to tell him that the time wasn’t right. She wanted to tell him anything so that he wouldn’t do this.

She wasn’t ready for this. He’d done this tons of times with tons of different girls, but she’d only done this when . . . that had been because of her father . . .

Before she could say anything, though, he slid her pants down and plunged into her, his large member stretching her walls. Maria could hardly keep herself steady as he moved within her, pushing her back into the concrete wall behind her.

It hurt so much. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Of that much she was sure.

“Slick, please, stop,” she choked out as he continued to thrust, his climax approaching.

“Stop?” He didn’t seem to get it, but his movements slowed down.

She nodded, and he pulled out of her altogether.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. His question wasn’t one of genuine concern, but of genuine disappointment.

“I . . . I’m not ready,” she admitted, catching her breath. She pulled her pants up and smoothed her shirt down, squeezing out from between the wall and Slick.

“Damn, baby, I thought you was ready,” Slick said.

“I’m not,” she repeated, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

“Well, aight, if that’s what you want.” Though Slick was the leader of a gang, though he’d had sex with half of the girls in Los Angeles and killed more people than he could remember, he wasn’t as heartless as he seemed. He knew not to push a girl over their boundaries, and he knew when to stop. Even though he was the leader of BlackCon and could order Maria to have sex with him if he wanted to, he didn’t, because he respected her decision.

“Sorry, Slick,” Maria apologized.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Slick told her. “You’ll be ready someday. And until that day, I still got every other fine bitch in the world to keep me busy.”

Maria let Slick put his arm around her shoulders again and walk with her back to the crib. As they were walking, she pretended that he was her boyfriend and that she was his girlfriend and that they were actually in love with each other, and she pretended that they were walking back to a fantasy land instead of the harsh reality that awaited them upon their return.

[April]

Thanks once again for the feedback!


~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Maria laid on her bed that entire day, sometimes sleeping, sometimes not. There wasn’t much going on that day. Most everyone was recuperating from the fight with Darkstreet the previous night. It hadn’t been an easy fight, that was for sure. This was worrying Slick and keeping him up all the while when he was supposed to be resting, thinking up plans for the next battle, the next attack. He was worried that BlackCon was getting warmed down while Darkstreet was just getting warmed up.

Whenever Maria did sleep, she saw the enemy in her dreams. She saw Michael Guerin saying the same thing to her over and over again in that harsh, cold way of his.

“. . . everybody knows who everybody else is . . . nobody knows your name . . . that just means you aren’t really important . . .”

Maria listened to him say that at least one hundred times before she was able to get up and stay up. She hated that she was letting what the enemy said get to her so much, but she had to admit that it really did make sense. She’d been in BlackCon for three years now. She’d been through too many fights to count with Darkstreet, yet many could not put her face with her name if asked to.

She hadn’t done anything monumental for the gang. In fact, she hadn’t even killed one of Darkstreet’s members. It was like she was part of the gang, but, in her own way, not. She didn’t kill, she didn’t do drugs, she didn’t have sex. Just because she was seventeen didn’t mean that she should stop herself from contributing to . . . to her family.

Maria glanced at the clock, running her fingers through her hair, trying to shake her dreams away. She was determined not to be bothered by Michael Guerin’s comments, and she was determined to learn from them.

The clock read 9:06. She’d had no idea that she’d slept so long. She forced herself to get up and head downstairs to eat something and join the others.

“God, we have no food!” Liz was shouting as Maria walked into the pathetic excuse for a kitchen.

“That’s ‘cause we have no money,” Alex explained. “If one of us would get a job . . .”

“Hey, you know gettin’ money’s women’s work,” Slick said from the living room. He was reclining in his favorite chair, stuffing his face with the last piece of pizza and watching Real World on TV.

“Well, I for one am not gonna go sell myself for ten bucks on a street corner,” Liz said, rummaging around the cabinets overhead before finally finding a bowl of soup.

Slick turned around in the chair, looking Liz over. “Elizabeth, with your looks, you could sell yourself for a lot more than that.”

Alex smiled, but Liz did not. “You think that’s funny?” she asked Alex, sounding disgusted.

“No,” Alex answered, “but he’s only tellin’ the truth.”

Liz slapped him in the sibling-like way on the shoulder. “You guys are such jerks,” she told both Slick and Alex, though Maria knew she didn’t mean it.

“I agree with Liz,” Maria piped up jokingly, making her presence known in the kitchen.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Alex seemed offended. “I am Alex Whitman! I’m the friend! I’m not the jerk!”

“Alex, I was just kidding,” Liz told him. “But I wasn’t kidding about this food situation. The place is virtually empty. What’re we gonna do, Slick?”

Slick was absorbed in the television again. “I don’t know,” he answered like it was nothing. “Tijuana and Jenna and all them are supposed to be out there this week.”

“Well, they aren’t out there,” Liz told him. “They’re upstairs playing truth or dare.”

Slick sighed. “Idiots,” he muttered, rising to his feet. “I got half the mind to kill them.”

“Don’t do that,” Maria told him. She hated it when Slick started talking about such drastic things. “I’ll take care of it.”

Slick seemed surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ll go out there and make some money.” Maria was already heading back upstairs to get changed into something sexier.

“Maria, wait.” Slick’s voice caused her to stop dead in her tracks and spin around to face him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked her, taking a few steps closer to her. “I mean, you ain’t ever done anything like this before.”

“I know I haven’t,” she said. “It’s about time I did.” She headed back up the stairs before Slick or Liz or Alex or anyone else who cared could do or say anything to stop her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael was taking what some would call a risk that night. He was venturing out closer to BlackCon territory alone, very close to the borderline. Few dared to do that, but Michael was very aware that he could get the best price for his drugs in this area.

Michael made his money and a good share of the gang’s money by selling these illegal goods. Over the years, he’d managed to figure out how to sell anything to anyone, even when they were hopelessly reluctant to buy it. Max said that he had a way of getting inside people’s heads and messing with them, making them think that they needed drugs even when they really didn’t. Many people in the gang admired and respected him for his masterfully perfected persuasion tactics.

He spotted a familiar customer sitting on a bench having a smoke. The guy was homeless, but he always seemed to have money, a sure sign that he stole frequently. He blew all of his cash on pot or cocaine or whatever it was that someone was willing to sell him, though, and that was the reason why he remained homeless.

The man on the bench waved him over. Michael walked over casually and performed the repeated maneuver that allowed him to sell to these people without getting caught. In the end, he walked away with enough money to buy him food for a week.

Michael knew that he wasn’t the smartest of guys on the earth—joining a gang was hardly smart, and he knew that—but he wasn’t dumb enough to waste his life on drugs like as that homeless man and many others were doing. He’d seen what drugs could do the days his parents’ coffins were lowered into the ground.

Michael continued to stroll down the streets like he owned them, keeping an eye out for any familiar face, anyone who might be interested in buying from him again, and keeping on the lookout for anyone who seemed to be a new potential customer.

There were dozens of girls running around wearing barely anything, trying to catch a guy’s attention. Michael sent them smiles as they passed, though he didn’t stop to have at it with any of them. They just didn’t do it for him. They were too . . . Isabel. They were all the same.

Except for one of them. She wasn’t. She stood out like a sore thumb as she stood on the street corner, tempting cars as they passed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive, it was just that she looked completely uncomfortable in what she was doing.

Michael recognized her. She was the girl from BlackCon, the girl whose stomach he’d cut with a knife only the night before, the girl who he’d told wasn’t important. She looked quite different tonight than she had the night before. She’d traded in her jeans and tank top for a black leather mini-skirt and top that revealed a tattoo that read BlackCon on her back, but not the scar on her stomach that he, himself, had inflicted last night. She had boots on that went up to her knees, and her face was covered in the darkest of dark make-up. She looked like the epitome of a prostitute on the outside, but her facial expression showed that she was nothing like the woman she was pretending to be.

Michael walked towards her from behind. “Long time no see, bitch!” he shouted when he was within earshot.

She spun around to face him, clearly startled and angry all at the same time. “Are you stalking me now?” she asked him.

“Hardly,” he told her. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she told him, turning back around so she was facing the street and the people on it instead of him. “If anyone from BlackCon sees you here, they’ll kill you.”

“Well, you saw me here,” he pointed out. “Does that mean you’re gonna kill me?”

“Maybe it does,” she answered without hesitation.

He laughed and stepped closer to her, but she never turned to face him again. “What’re you gonna do? Talk me to death?”

“Do you have something you want?” she asked impatiently, turning around to face him again.

He shrugged. “Not really. I was just dealin’ to the locals, you know. Gotta scrape up some cash somehow.”

“I know what you mean,” she muttered, “and I guess you were right. I guess I am important. For sex.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you are. Sorta.”

She seemed almost offended. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, how long have you been out here?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “An hour maybe. Why?”

“Well, if it’d been my girl Isabel who was out here, she’d have been with ten guys by now. How many have you been with?”

She let her gaze drift to the ground, not giving him so much as an answer.

“Lemme guess. None.” She didn’t have to answer. Michael already knew. He’d known from the minute he’d seen her at the street corner, looking so unsure and unconfident in what she was doing. “A big fat zero.”

“I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to present itself,” she insisted.

“Well,” Michael said, pointing to an approaching car driven by a man who appeared to be in his late twenties, “that might be your opportunity right there.”

The guy rolled down his window and stuck his head out as he stopped at the corner.

“Hi, I’m Maria . . .” the girl started.

Before she could say more, the guy drove away.

“What was that all about?” the girl—Maria—asked.

“Guys like that don’t care about introductions,” Michael told her. “They don’t wanna know what your name is. They just wanna set a price and have at ya.”

Maria grunted, seeming offended. “God, what a jerk.”

“Well, were you honestly expecting to find your Prince Charming out here tonight? ‘Cause if that’s the case, then I might be the closest you’ll find to that!”

“Would you shut up?” Maria shouted, drawing the attention of a few people passing by.

“I hate you!” he shouted back.

“I hate you, too!”

Ignoring the stares from everyone around, Michael turned his back on Maria and started to walk away, muttering “fuck you” as he did so. He was almost set on leaving when he turned back and took one last glance at her. She looked so different than she had only the night before, and not different in a good way. She looked like Isabel. She looked like all of the other girls who roamed these streets at this hour of the night.

Another car was coming to a stop at her corner, and this guy appeared to be much more interested than the last.

Though he hated himself for giving in, Michael went back. Just as she was about to get into the car with that guy, Michael grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Her eyes met his, and a look of bonafide confusion made its way across her face.

“Go home,” he told her.

“What?” She seemed surprised.

“Go home,” he repeated, loosening his grip on her wrist.

Maria took one last glance back at the guy in the car and then at Michael again, and then she walked away in the direction of the BlackCon crib, slowly at first and then faster and faster until she was full out running down the streets as best she could in three-inch boots.

Michael ignored the stream of curses and insults that the guy in the car was throwing at him and headed off in the opposite direction, back to the Darkstreet crib. He didn’t know what had just happened, and he didn’t want to, so he chose to ignore it and pretend like it never happened at all.

[April]

Maria arrived back at the BlackCon crib, hoping to sneak back up to her bedroom without having to say anything to anyone, but when she heard the music blaring and the voices of her friends . . . family . . . whatever it was that they were . . . she knew that they were having another party and that sneaking up to her bedroom unnoticed would be an impossibility.

Maria walked inside and began to cough immediately as the smells that drugs and cigarettes emitted filled her senses. Even after being part of a gang for three years, she’d never get used to those smells.

Lucky for her, her friends seemed to be so absorbed in dancing and smoking and drinking that it was beginning to seem that sneaking upstairs might be a possibility again.

She was halfway up the stairs, unnoticed as she hoped to be, when someone grabbed her arm, stopping her. Maria spun around to see that it was Slick who had stopped her. He looked completely wasted and completely stoned, and he couldn’t get his eyes to focus on her when he spoke.

“Hey, baby, whatcha doin’ home so early?” he asked, his voice slurred as well.

Maria opened her mouth to answer, but she found it quite difficult to tell him that she hadn’t been able to do what she’d gone out there to do. She worried that he might look down on her, knowing that she wasn’t as “capable” as some of the other girls.

“How much did you make?” he asked her eagerly.

“Umm . . .” She was hesitant to answer, though she knew she’d have to. “Nothing. I didn’t make anything.”

Slick seemed disappointed, though he tried to hide it. “Oh. Well . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Maria apologized quickly. “I really, really, really wanted to do something for BlackCon, but . . . but I just couldn’t do this.”

Slick shrugged, almost as if it were nothing. “Hey, what can I expect from a seventeen year-old girl, right?”

It was in that moment, even though Slick was drunk and probably didn’t know and definitely wouldn’t remember what he was saying a day from now, that Maria was reminded that she was different from her supposed family in a blatantly obvious way.

“I’ll be in my room,” Maria told him, turning to head back up the stairs.

“Hey, wait a minute, you’re gonna miss out on all the action,” Slick said, tugging on her wrist to keep her from going up any farther.

“Oh, yeah. Sex and drugs and rock and roll. Knock yourself out.”

“Not that action,” he elaborated. “I mean the fight. We’re headin’ on over to Darkstreet tonight. We gonna take ‘em by surprise.”

“By surprise?” Maria wasn’t following.

“Yeah,” Slick said. “They ain’t gonna be expectin’ us to show up after the battle last night without Kyle. He’s one of our stronger guys. But we are gonna show up, and we’re gonna take ‘em all down before they even realize what’s hit ‘em.”

“You got big plans, Slick,” Maria told him. “Look, you guys are all drunk. You’re definitely not in the condition to fight. And, really, it is pretty stupid to go over there without Kyle.”

“Baby, it’s quite the opposite,” Slick said, running his hands over her bare arms. “It’s brilliant. Now, are you comin’ or not?”

Maria didn’t want to go over to Darkstreet. Not tonight, and not any night ever again. She didn’t want to have to face Michael Guerin again, because, if she did, she’d have to ask him why he stopped her from doing what she’d been forcing herself to do out there on that street corner, and she didn’t want to do that. She’d be best off if she never spoke to the guy again.

“I’m really tired . . .” she started.

“You can sleep when you get home,” Slick told her. “Now go get changed and we’ll head on out.” It seemed as if he wasn’t giving her a choice in the matter anymore. He was deciding for her. Because he was the leader. Because he was her leader.

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly, heading on up the stairs for a different reason than she had first intended to.

Changing proved to me more difficult than Maria had expected it to be. Almost every shirt she owned showed her stomach in some way, and Maria didn’t want to let Michael Guerin or anyone else see that she’d been hurt.

She finally decided on a regular pair of jeans and a red sweatshirt. When she made it back downstairs, she discovered that the most of the gang, including Slick, had just left and were making their way to the crib already.

Liz was still there, though, making sure that Kyle would be comfortable on the couch while they were gone.

“Don’t get hurt,” Kyle was telling her.

“I’ll try not to,” Liz told him, “but that can be a kinda difficult thing to do when you’re in the middle of a gang battle, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kyle said, “but at least try to be safe.”

“I will,” Liz promised him. She bent down and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, and Maria found herself staring on in envy. Kyle and Liz were so great together. Their chemistry had been hanging around them for years until they finally agreed that it was time to explore a relationship. Maria didn’t have a relationship, though. She had Slick, and they had their . . . thing. She wasn’t sure what they had. Whatever it was, though, it wasn’t a relationship like Kyle and Liz’s, and it never would be.

Liz turned around and saw Maria. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, I couldn’t really go through with the hooker thing, so I came back and Slick pretty much told me to come along.”

Liz waved good-bye to Kyle, and the two girls left the crib, heading off to the Darkstreet crib, trailing the other BlackCon members.

“I really wanna kill somebody tonight,” Liz muttered as they walked on.

“Who?” Maria asked.

“Michael Guerin. He shot Kyle, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Maria said. “But Kyle’s been hurt before.”

“But he’s never been shot,” Liz pointed out. “This is the closest he’s ever come to dying. Michael could’ve killed him.” The anger was growing more and more evident in her eyes as she spoke. “God, I hate him.”

“Oh, so do I,” Maria agreed. “He sliced my stomach last night.”

Liz made a face. “Ow.”

“Yeah,” Maria agreed. “Michael Guerin is . . . he’s really strange, you know?”

Liz shrugged. “Sure. I haven’t really gotten to know the guy, Maria, and I don’t plan to.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten to know him, either,” Maria said, “and I don’t plan to, either, but . . . he’s just weird, you know?”

“Yeah, he is pretty unusual,” Liz agreed, “but I think that’s ‘cause his parents died when he was so young. Scarred him for life and all.”

“How did they die?” Maria asked, curious.

“I heard that his parents died because of a drug overdose. When he was eight. Apparently they were mad high one night and just . . . died.”

Maria couldn’t help but almost feel sorry for the guy. She knew what it was like to lose a parent.

“I guess he lived with his aunt and uncle here in LA until he was eighteen and then joined up with Darkstreet,” Liz finished.

Maria smiled. “And you said you didn’t know the guy.”

“I don’t,” Liz said. “I just know stuff about him. And I’m really not interested in knowing any more.”

“Oh, I’m not, either,” Maria said as she continued the long walk to the Darkstreet crib.

The unmistakable sounds of violence could be heard a good distance away as they approached their destination. When they did finally make it onto the scene, Liz smiled at Maria in case it would be the last time they ever saw each other and charged forward. Maria hung back, casually making her way through the chaos and into the shadows. She didn’t want to take part in this unless challenged. She wasn’t as strong or experienced of a fighter as most here were, and she knew she wasn’t ready to take on anyone like Darkstreet. She was like an extra in a movie. She was there, but she was just there. She didn’t ever do anything spectacular or particularly memorable or honorable by the gang standards.

It didn’t help that Darkstreet was very intimidating. That’s what Maria hated about them so much. They were so arrogant and cocky, and they knew exactly how to intimidate her and make her worry. Michael Guerin had obviously known how to do it. He’d had her begging for him to stop hurting her. Begging.

Maria looked around, surveying the scene. It looked as if Nix and Slick were ready to challenge each other head on, but no one was making the first move. They just stood there glaring at each other until they finally both gave up and moved on. Everyone had been waiting for years now to see a showdown between Slick and Nix. People were saying that it would be the ultimate cruel end to what had been a very cruel rivalry between the two for years, ever since Nix had killed Slick’s sister and since Slick had killed Nix’s girlfriend in return. However, it seemed as if this battle to end all battles was never going to happen.

Alex was taking on Max Evans. Their battle seemed to be a battle more of pure intellect more than physical strength. Each seemed to be trying to determine the other’s next move, trying to devise some sort of strategy or plan for victory. In the battle of intelligence, Alex won by a small margin, but Max still had his incredible physical strength on his side, and that leveled it out so that no one was victorious.

No particular side was winning. No particular side ever did.

As Maria was looking around, she saw someone moving up on the third floor balcony, his body covered in shadows. Maria could tell who he was by his hair, though. No one had hair like that except for the infamous Michael Guerin himself.

He was just standing there, probably smiling, like he was enjoying watching the whole fight play out, knowing quite well that no one would be brave enough to challenge him.

Maria knew she wasn’t brave enough, either, but she sneaked on into the Darkstreet crib anyway, not to challenge Darkstreet’s most valued warrior, but to talk to him.

Maria found her way around the almost empty crib easily. It was almost the exact mirror image of BlackCon’s, only much untidier. She found Michael waiting out in the hallway for her, leaning against his doorframe.

“Had a feeling you’d be comin’ up here,” he said. “Face it, baby. You just can’t get enough of me.”

“Oh, I’ve already had more than enough of you,” she assured him. “I just thought I’d come up here to see what is was like,”—she took out her gun and pressed it against his chest, backing him up into his bedroom as she stepped forward—“to be on the other side, to see what it feels like when the tables have turned.”

“The tables haven’t turned,” Michael said. He sounded confident, yet he was still backing up as she made her way inside. “If you think you’ll be able to hold me down long enough to slice my stomach, think again.”

“I don’t wanna get anywhere near your stomach,” she told him, “or any other part of you for that matter.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asked her. “You want me to hurt you like I did last night?”

“Do you have any idea how annoying you are?”

He continued on like he hadn’t even heard her. “Or do you want me to pull up next to you the next time you’re workin’ your little street corner late at night? Fuck your brains out?”

“I wasn’t . . .” Maria began to protest.

“Oh, but you were,” Michael kept on, “and you woulda gone through with it if I hadn’t have stopped you.” He began to laugh. “Little Maria. Little innocent girl. A prostitute. What would your mother say?”

“My mother’s dead,” she blurted out.

His bravado seemed to diminish in intensity a little bit when she said that. “Really? How did she die?”

“Car accident.”

“Gee,” he said, “what a lame way to go.”

“Oh, yeah?” she shot back. “At least my mother didn’t die ‘cause of drugs!”

He froze in place, an almost saddened expression replacing his confident one. “How do you know about that?”

“Everybody knows, Michael,” she told him. “And you see, what I don’t get is why you think it’s okay to sell people drugs after seeing all the damage they can do.”

“I do what I have to do to get by!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

“Oh, yeah, well you know what else isn’t right?” Michael charged forward, pinning her back against the wall and causing the gun to fall from her hands. “You’re not right, Maria. You’re fucked up, you know that? And fucked up people like you tend to die when they come up into my room uninvited.”

“But you invited me.”

“I hardly consider standing outside on my balcony and invitation.”

Maria shrugged. “Whatever. I know it was. Oh, and about this whole killing me thing . . . you won’t do it.”

He seemed to be growing clearly frustrated. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I mean you’ve had every chance to kill me, but you haven’t. And you didn’t last night, either, because . . . well, let’s just face it. You don’t want to.”

Michael shook his head vigorously. “Oh, you don’t know how much I do wanna kill you right now. You don’t know how much I just wanna . . .”

“Alright, whatever dude,” Maria cut him off. “I really just came here tonight to let you know that, from now on, there will be no more slicing of my stomach, no more paying visits to me on the street corner, and no more conversations like these. Does that work for you?”

“That more than works for me,” Michael told her. “Now get out.”

Maria reached down to the ground and picked up her gun, walking out as casually as she’d walked in. She’d just stood up for herself, even though that hadn’t been her intention coming here, and she felt . . . she felt powerful.

She’d never felt that way before.

[April]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael laid up in his and Isabel’s room that night with the door locked so that no one else could enter. Through his open window, he could hear the sounds of battle tapering off and eventually fading away altogether. Isabel was pounding on the door soon, disrupting his momentary peace.

“Michael, I know you’re in there!” she was shouting, pounding on the door. “Lemme in!”

Michael took his sweet time getting up and making his way over to the door, opening it and letting Isabel inside.

“Why weren’t you down there tonight?” she asked him, barging inside and making her way over to the mirror to survey her appearance.

Michael closed the door behind her and locked it again. “I dunno. Just didn’t feel like fightin’, I guess.”

“Well, we needed you,” Isabel told him, tucking a stray strand of hair back in place. “It wasn’t an easy fight.”

“Everybody alright?”

“Yeah. Just a few minor injuries.” Isabel turned her attention away from the mirror, then, seeming to give up on her appearance, and focused her attention on him. “You know, Mikey, I really ain’t feelin’ that good right now. It might make me feel a little better if you . . . did some things . . . to me.”

“You said I wasn’t gonna be fuckin’ you no more,” Michael reminded her.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, “but I wasn’t serious.”

“You never are.”

“Right. So, you wanna make me feel better or not?” She unbuttoned the first two buttons of her shirt, revealing a tremendous amount of cleavage and a black bra. Usually, this site would turn Michael on, but tonight, it just didn’t.

“I don’t think so,” he told Isabel.

“What?” she shrieked. “WHAT?”

“I really just don’t wanna do this right now,” he told her honestly.

“You never wanna do this!” Isabel continued to shout. “You know what? I might just go find Jonathon again! He’d sure as hell give me what I want!”

“Why don’t you go do that?” Michael suggested.

“I will,” Isabel said, buttoning her shirt again and heading for the door. She gave him one more nasty look, shaking her head in disgust as she left the room.

Michael sat back down on his bed after she left, running his fingers through his hair. That girl, Maria . . . She was driving him crazy. He knew that he should be wanting to kill her, that he probably should’ve killed her already, but he hadn’t, and, for some reason, she was right. He didn’t want to.

Michael had never ever given up the chance to kill a BlackCon member, whether they were important in gang standards or not. He didn’t know why he all of a sudden didn’t want to kill the enemy. It wasn’t right for him.

When she’d come up to his room on this night, she’d managed, somehow, to get underneath his skin, just as he’d managed to the night before. No one had ever been able to do that to him before, so he couldn’t understand why she was able to do this now.

He hated her. He hated her so much.

He was immersing himself in all of these thoughts when his door, which he’d neglected to lock for a third time, was opened. Max stepped inside. “I heard you guys yelling,” he said, adding quietly, “again.”

“Yeah, what else is new, right?”

“Maybe you should go apologize to her,” Max suggested.

“No, I’m not gonna do that,” Michael said. “Look, man, I know she’s your sister and all, but she can be so stupid sometimes. I mean, she gets pissed just ‘cause I don’t wanna have sex with her.”

Max shrugged. “That’s Isabel for you, I guess. But, Michael, you really should consider the apology thing.”

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well, in her opinion, you do.”

Michael sighed. “Look, Isabel and I . . . we’re different than you and Tess. We don’t apologize to each other. We don’t tell each other we love each other every night. We’re never gonna be like you guys. Love is . . . it’s inconceivable to us, Maxwell.”

Max shrugged. “Fine, I guess I get your point.” He came on into the room and sat down in a chair. “You missed one helluva fight tonight,” he told Michael.

“That’s what Iz said.”

“I really hate Alex Whitman, you know?” Max continued. “Guy tried to stab me.”

“Whitman’s a fag,” Michael said. “Dude, he wears glasses. And plaid shirts. And he plays chess.”

“How do you know he plays chess?”

“I don’t. I’m just assuming he does.”

Max smiled. “I think you’re right.” A moment of silence existed between the two of them until Max said, “Oh, hey, by the way, I saw that girl tonight.”

“What girl?” Michael asked.

“The blonde girl. Maria DeLuca,” Max answered. “I thought you were gonna kill her last night.”

Maria DeLuca. Great. One subject that Michael didn’t really want to talk about. “Yeah, you know, I don’t know what happened. I just didn’t kill her.”

“That’s strange,” Max commented. “Especially for you.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “But I’ll kill her eventually.” He pictured Maria DeLuca in his mind. “I hate her so much.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next night, Maria decided to go out. She was feeling pretty good about things, and she’d also gotten a good night’s sleep after the fight, so she really felt in the mood to go dancing at Club Funk. However, no one else did. Liz was not going to leave Kyle’s side while he needed her, and Alex was still recovering from his brawl with Max. Slick had one hell of a hangover, and he was sleeping the whole day.

Though she could’ve asked someone else to go with her that night, Maria didn’t. She wasn’t even remotely close to anyone else in the gang, and being alone, or as alone as one could be in a club filled with people, for awhile didn’t sound so bad after all.

When Maria arrived at the club, however, she was disappointed to find that Destiny’s Child was playing. She’d been a Destiny’s Child fan until a few years ago when the radio station made her sick of their hit song “Survivor” and therefore sick of the group altogether.

Maria groaned. Her night of dancing was officially nonexistent now, due to the fact that there were no other good clubs in BlackCon territory, except for one that was expected to open up within a few days. She sure as hell wasn’t leaving their territory, either. In the BlackCon area, she was protected because she was part of BlackCon, even though she wasn’t a valuable part. In other areas, she was vulnerable.

Maria was pleased to see that a small Mexican food stand had set itself up right next to Club Funk, probably hoping to attract some customers who couldn’t find what they wanted in the club. The smell of bean burritos and tacos filled Maria’s nose, and she decided to give the food stand a try. Mexican food had become a favorite of hers ever since she’d become a part of BlackCon, as the gang ate at Julio’s café almost every day.

“I’ll have two tacos,” Maria told the man when she got to the front of the line, holding up two fingers to make sure that he understood her. The man nodded and shouted something to the two others working. Within minutes, Maria was handed two delicious looking tacos.

She sat down on a bench and began to eat immediately. She soon found that her food was a lot spicier than she had wanted it to be, and she recognized the taste of many, many jalapeño peppers at once.

“Mmm, hot, hot!” she said with her mouth full, fanning herself as she did so. “Hot taco!”

All at once, someone held out a can of Dr. Pepper in front of her. Maria followed the arm holding the can and looked up, directly into the face of none other than Michael Guerin.

“Oh, great,” she mumbled, swallowing the spicy food down as best she could.

“Need some?” Michael asked her, gesturing to the can of pop in his hand.

“No, I don’t,” Maria lied. She picked her taco up in her hands and took another big bite, fighting to contain herself as the taste of jalapeños exploded in her mouth for a second time. Jalapenos?

Michael shrugged. “Alright.” Uninvited, he sat down on the bench beside her and began to chug his soda greedily. Maria watched enviously, feeling as if her mouth were on fire.

“Why are you here?” she asked him impatiently. “In BlackCon territory?”

“I’m not afraid of BlackCon,” he answered at once. “I’m not afraid of any of you.”

“Well, why are you here?” Maria asked again. “Just . . . why don’t you just leave?”

“‘Cause I got stuff to do,” Michael told her, reaching into his pocket and showing her the drugs he was selling.

Maria shook her head. She would never understand why Michael Guerin still found it okay to sell drugs when his parents had died because of them.

“I’m not really in the mood for a lecture right now on the dangers of drugs, so . . .”

“Look,” she cut in, “I thought we agreed never to talk to each other again.”

Michael threw his now empty can of soda on the ground and kicked it across the street. “I have the right to back out on an agreement,” he told her.

Maria groaned, tossing her overly hot taco in a nearby trash can. “You’re impossible,” she said, running her hands through her hair exasperatedly.

“Me? I’m impossible?”

“Yes, you! First, you act like you’re gonna kill me, then you don’t kill me, and now you’re all, like, stalking me!”

“Oh, please, I got a lot better things to do,” he said.

“Like what?” she shot back. “Have sex? Sell drugs?”

“Look, I just get a little tired of always bein’ around Darkstreet, okay?”

“Okay, whatever, just . . . just leave, okay?”

“Fine,” he agreed, “I’ll go.” He stood up. “And I’ll never talk to you again.”

“Oh, you can talk to me,” Maria told him, “Just know that I won’t be listening.”

Michael glared at her for a few short seconds before he turned and walked away, leaving Maria sitting on the bench all alone, almost feeling bad for being so cold to him. Almost.

[April]

Thanks for the feedback!



~*~*~*~*~*~*~



Michael didn’t return home until at least noon the next day. He was exhausted, and he wanted to go to sleep so badly, but something kept plaguing him.

That something was in his pocket. That something was something that he could sell to anyone if he wanted to, something that would get him more money than he could count, something that he hadn’t been able to sell to anyone the night before, not even his usual buyers.

He’d seen the look on Maria’s face when he’d shown her the reason why he was in BlackCon territory. She’d looked so disappointed. Not disappointed in him, but disappointed in the fact that he was doing it, that he was still doing it, even after everything with his parents.

Michael met up with Max in the hallway, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s up with you?” Michael asked him. “Tess finally agree to use the cuffs?”

“No, but I’m still workin’ on that,” Max replied. “Guess what I did this morning?”

“What did you do?” Michael asked as he continued on to his bedroom, relieved when he opened the door to find that Isabel wasn’t in there.

“I got a job,” Max told him, following him inside. “A real job.”

“What? Flipping burgers?” Michael joked, throwing his coat down on the floor, all the drugs spilling out of his pockets. He ignored them and sat down in his chair, grabbing hold of a half-full bottle of beer left lying on the floor. It wasn’t cold, but that didn’t matter.

“No, I’m a security guard. Up at the jail.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, liking the sound of this. “Ah, convenient. Now, if I ever get busted like I did last May then you’ll be there to get me out.”

“You better not get busted,” Max told him, “‘Cause I don’t know if I’d be able to get you out. I’m serious about this job, man.”

Michael could tell he was. Max Evans had held more jobs than all the rest of the Darkstreet members combined, but he’d never ever felt that he was doing anything worthwhile. Now, possibly, he did.

“I’m happy for you,” Michael told him. “At least you’ve got a job.”

“You got a job, too,” Max reminded him, motioning towards the drugs on the floor.

Michael took another swig of beer. “Not honorable,” he commented.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Max added.

Michael chugged the rest of the beer, dropping the bottle down on the floor when he was done. “For the first time in my life, this is actually bothering me,” he said.

“Why?”

Michael knew why. He knew it was because every time he looked at those drugs or touched those drugs, he was reminded of the look Maria had given him, the look other people probably would give him if they knew what he did.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “Look, I’m really tired. I think I’m just gonna get some sleep.”

“Alright,” Max said, heading towards the door.

“I’m glad you got the job,” Michael told him before he left.

“Thanks, man!” Max called as he made his way down the hallway.

Before Michael Guerin went to sleep that day, he forced himself to think long and hard about what he was doing every time he sold drugs to someone, and he made himself remember what had happened to his parents. He made himself watch a little movie in his head of their funeral, and he began to ask himself if he really wanted or needed to do what he was doing.

Before Michael Guerin went to sleep that day, he got rid of every single drug he owned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next night, Maria went out again, making sure to avoid any Mexican food stands with spicy tacos. She dropped on by Club Funk again and was terribly disappointed to see that another performer ruined by the insistent and repetitive radio, Ashanti, was performing. She decided to head over to Rolo’s bar, a bar where BlackCon went on a regular basis. Slick said that he liked the girls that dropped on by Rolo’s, and the other men of the gang agreed. Maria didn’t like Rolo’s for the people or for the beer, but she liked the atmosphere, which was surprisingly relaxed and encouragingly carefree.

Maria was sitting at the bar, sipping her soda, and watching the other people in the room, people who were not part of a gang, people who actually had fun in their lives. She envied them for their complete simplicity and wished that she was one of them again, wished that she was just a normal teenage girl in high school, wished that her mother was still alive to make her life better when it was not.

“Contrary to what you might think,” came a voice, startling her, “I’m not stalking you.”

Maria did not even have to look up to know that it was Michael again, running into her for the second night in a row.

“I just got bored over with Darkstreet so I decided to come over here. You know, you guys got some pretty cool places in your territory,” he continued, sitting down beside her on the barstool like he had been invited to.

“But you don’t got Club Bang.”

“Club Bang sucks!” Maria exclaimed, facing him for the first time since he had come in. “It’s all rock!”

“Yeah, and your stupid little Club Funk is all rap!” Michael shot back.

“That’s because rap is the best,” Maria said, “and everybody in this part of town likes rap.”

“Then everybody in this part of town must be brainwashed.”

Maria sent him a glare, shaking her head. “Rap’s awesome,” she muttered.

“Is this you not listening?” he asked her all at once. “‘Cause you suck at it.”

She was growing frustrated and exasperated with him fast. She hated how he intimidated her, even if he wasn’t trying. The thing about Michael Guerin was that he was smart, smarter than he appeared to be, and he knew how to trap you in one of your own arguments, no matter how hard you fought to escape.

“You know, I really meant it when I said that we shouldn’t talk anymore,” she told him. “I really meant it.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“So why do you keep showing up whenever you shouldn’t? Why do you keep trying to talk to me? You hate me, and I hate you, remember?”

“I never said I hated you,” he said, motioning the bartender over. “I just hate BlackCon.”

“Well, I’m part of BlackCon.” She pointed out the conspicuously obvious.

“I’ll have a beer,” Michael told the bartender before returning his attention back to Maria. “But . . . you’re different than them. I don’t know how you are, but . . . you are.”

“Just ‘cause I’m younger doesn’t mean I’m different.”

“Younger?” he echoed in question. “I wasn’t insinuating that you’re different because you’re younger. I just thought that . . .” He trailed off, a new though arising in his mind. “How old are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said without hesitation. It was a response that she had grown quite used to giving whenever asked this question. It really didn’t matter how old she was. She’d had to grow up far to fast anyway. Though she was only seventeen, her soul had endured more than its share of pain over the short ages.

“Twenty?” Michael ventured.

“No.”

“Twenty-one?”

“Just stop guessing. I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Well,” he said, “you can’t be that much younger. I mean, it’s not like you’re in high-school or anything . . .” He paused when he noticed the expression on her face, the expression that gave away the truth. “Right?”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’m seventeen, alright? I am seventeen years old!”

He seemed so surprised, almost . . . saddened. “You’re seventeen,” he echoed, as if processing the information for himself. “And you’re in a gang?”

She herself was saddened that she was admitting this. “Yes,” she said.

The bartender arrived back with Michael’s beer, but he didn’t even seem to realize that it was there. “How long . . . I mean . . . when did you get involved with BlackCon?”

“Why are you demanding all these answers of me?” she asked him. She didn’t want to reveal her life story to this guy.

“I’m not demanding,” he told her, “I’m just asking you a question. It’s up to you whether you answer me or not.”

At that moment, for some reason, Maria DeLuca wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that her life and her time with her mother in their beautiful house situated perfectly in their beautiful neighborhood had all been so transient, so short-lived in a sense, and she wanted to tell him that she wanted nothing more than to go back to when she was fourteen years old and somehow stop that car accident from happening, somehow prevent her mother’s death and her own initiation into the BlackCon gang. She wanted to tell him everything, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“I was fourteen,” she answered simply.

He seemed shocked. “How is it possible to get into a gang at fourteen years old?”

“It’s very possible,” she replied, “when you’re fourteen and you look like you’re already in college.”

Michael nodded, seeming to understand now. “Oh. I didn’t know that Slick would let you in for your looks.”

“Well he sure as hell didn’t let me in for my fighting ability, or rather lack there of.”

“So, why did you join this gang at fourteen anyway? What happened that made you think there wasn’t any other options?”

“There weren’t any other options,” Maria told him. “This was the only option. This was my only choice.”

“Why?”

Maria was about to answer when she found her eyes drifting to the entrance of the bar. She saw a familiar form enter, a form that could only be Slick.

“Fuck you!” Maria shouted, pushing Michael on the shoulder enough to surprise him. She stood up and walked over towards where Slick was standing, hoping that he had not been able to tell that she had been engaging in an actual conversation with the enemy.

“What?” Michael was asking, confused. He followed her as she left, and he stopped talking when he noticed that Slick was there. He understood now.

“Hey,” Maria said in the sexiest manner she could manage, slipping into Slick’s arms.

“Hey, baby,” Slick said. “I thought you might be lonely.”

“I am,” Maria . . . lied? Had she been lonely? With Michael?

The answer was flagrantly clear in her mind. She hadn’t been. She hadn’t even wanted to leave him. She’d had to.

“Let’s go,” she suggested, leading Slick back outside. As she did so, she turned her head around one more time and saw that Michael Guerin was still watching her. They shared each other’s gaze for a brief moment in which they both understood the other and their actions entirely, understanding with quite a bit of clarity that they would continue this, just not now.

Later.

[April]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later turned out to be much sooner than either of the two expected it would be. Later actually turned out to be relatively soon. However, when they did see each other, it was because of yet another battle between the two gangs.

Michael would’ve preferred to see Maria DeLuca again at that stupid Rolo’s Bar, or even sitting outside a Mexican food stand eating almost unbearably spicy tacos, but he figured that even seeing her because of a fight was better than not seeing her at all. He didn’t know why, but he was so intrigued by everything she’d told him so far.

She was seventeen. How was that possible? How could she only be seventeen and still have to deal with the hectic lifestyle that was the way of a gang every day? And why would she want to?
“Alright, VaLenti still isn’t in fighting condition,” Nix was saying to group of guys who’d gathered behind Johnny’s Pub, the main bar in Darkstreet territory, just as Rolo’s was in the BlackCon area. The girls were standing out front, talking about nails and boys and all of the normal things that girls seemed to always talk about, whether they were part of a gang or not. The girls of Darkstreet were not as keen on the fighting as the guys were, but they helped out and pulled their weight in the battles when they were needed.

“It don’t matter if VaLenti’s out or not,” Max said. “If they fight anything like they did a few nights ago, without VaLenti, it’s still not gonna be an easy battle.”

“Who else they got that’s a threat?” Slick asked Max and mainly Max. “Besides Slick, there ain’t anyone over there to give us any trouble.”

The entire group erupted in disagreements. Max argued that Alex was stronger than he looked. “And it’s scary,” he said, “the way the guy thinks. He’s so fuckin’ smart, and that’s a problem.”

“But he ain’t a threat to me,” Nix said. “The only person over there that stands in my way of victory is Slick.”

“Then why don’t you fight him tonight?” Michael suggested. “If he’s the only guy who’s in your way, then why don’t you just fight him and win it?”

Nix was silent, and Michael knew.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“I’m ain’t scared,” Nix denied, but Michael knew he was lying.

“You are scared,” he said. “And so is he. That’s why you guys never fight each other. We’ve been waiting all this time, but . . .”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael!” Nix shouted, loud enough so that a few of the girls were drawn around back. Isabel was by Michael’s side at once, coiling her fingers around his arm. He tried to shake her away, but he couldn’t.

“Imma do it,” Nix said to Michael, pure, raw determinate showing in his eyes. “Tonight, Imma beat his ass. You just watch.” He turned to the rest of the gang. “Let’s go.”

They walked forward in their usual positions, Nix leading the way in, Michael following behind. However, this time, unlike in the past, Michael never let himself believe that they would emerge from this victorious. In the past, he always came back from a fight thinking that they had won, even if they hadn’t, always believing that Darkstreet was the better gang. But now, he didn’t know what to think. He’d just seen the way Nix was crumbling at the very thought of fighting Slick in the battle that would surely go down in history, and it didn’t help that he and Isabel were growing farther and farther apart. It was only a matter of time before the whole group fell apart if somebody didn’t do something.

Michael didn’t want to be that somebody. For some unexplainable reason, he just didn’t want to be that somebody. He was over it right now, over the rush that he used to receive from fighting the enemy, just like when he had sliced Maria’s stomach that night. There was just something else that was on his mind right now, other things that he was feeling besides the crazy feeling of high. He felt . . . pity . . . for the enemy . . . for Maria. He felt sorry for her, joining the gang at fourteen because of . . . because of what? He didn’t know.

He was going to find out.

The fight started out slow. There was much talking, much more than was usually so, between the two sides. Vicious talking. Hateful talking. Darkstreet was using the infamous tactic of intimidation upon BlackCon, but the rival gang was not faltering.

Michael tried to fade away as much as he could, to become an invisible member of the gang, just for this night, but that was a hard thing to do when you were such a valuable asset, a prize, as Isabel had once put it. There were many who wanted to challenge him that night, many who would’ve if he hadn’t been so uninterested.

Slowly, Michael made his way away from the threats, away from the glares, and away from the physical battle that had just begun outside. He snuck inside where few BlackCon members remained. He passed some on his way up the stairs, but no one bothered to stop him. No one even looked at him, afraid that he would think the simple look suggested a challenge. He walked slowly but stealthily, trying to remember what room had been hers. He passed many rooms, but one held an odd sense of familiarity.

The door was already open, and she was inside. She seemed completely unaware that a battle was even occurring outside. Either she was completely unaware, or she just didn’t give a damn.

She was applying make-up to her face, staring intently in the mirror when she saw him standing in the doorway, or rather his reflection. She didn’t bother to stop what she was doing, but the look on her face told Michael that she was at least acknowledging his presence.

“So, you do know that there’s an actual battle going on outside, don’t you?” Michael asked her.

“I do,” she answered simply, still focusing on her make-up. “There always is.”

Michael couldn’t help but think how true that was. BlackCon and Darkstreet would fight each other every single day of the week if they could, if it didn’t exhaust them so much.

“Why aren’t you down there fighting for your side?” Maria asked him, running a tube of pink lipstick across her lips.

Michael shrugged. “Dunno. I just don’t really feel like being a part of it tonight.”

“I never feel like being a part of it,” Maria admitted.

Michael took a step into her room, hoping that she didn’t mind.

“Why exactly are you really up here?” Maria asked him when he said nothing. She’d stopped doing her make-up, now, but she chose to look at him through the mirror and not turn around to face him. “Is it ‘cause you really don’t wanna fight, or is it ‘cause you wanted to finish that little conversation we were having the other night?”

“Both,” Michael confessed. “Listen, I’ll leave if you want me to.”

She didn’t say anything, almost as if she were trying to decide whether to tell him to leave or not to.

“I’ll just go,” he said quietly, turning to head out the door in the direction he had come. He was sure that she would’ve been glad that he had left, sure that she wouldn’t say or do anything more when he heard her voice ring out in the air.

“Can I come with you?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face her slowly. Her eyes were pleading with him for an escape.

A short time later, Michael Guerin found himself in the park with Maria, having sneaked out the back way of the BlackCon crib without being noticed.

“I love this place,” Maria commented, making her way across the grass and sitting on one of a pair of swings. “It’s about the only place in this crappy town that’s halfway decent.”

“Yeah, I guess I sorta like it, too,” Michael said, sitting down on the swing next to her. “It’s kinda . . .”

“Peaceful,” Maria finished for him.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Kinda peaceful.”

“And away from the chaos,” she added knowingly.

They sat in a strangely comfortable silence for a short time. Maria’s eyes drifted up, and she began concentrating on a small girl with long, blonde hair and her mother playing together in the sandbox in front of her.

“That was me,” Maria choked out finally, still staring longingly at the mother and daughter.

“Huh?” Michael didn’t completely understand.

“That was me,” Maria told him again. “That was exactly what I was like when I was little. I had this long blonde hair that my mom would brush one hundred times every day, and I wore these little plaid skirts because my mom thought they were cute.” She turned to Michael and smiled. “She made me wear these little black shoes, too.”

“Sounds like you and your mom were close,” Michael ventured.

Maria nodded slowly, the smile dissolving from her face. “Yeah, we were,” she whispered.

“Honey, it’s late. We need to get you to bed,” the mother was telling her daughter. “We don’t want you to be tired for school tomorrow.”

“My mom always said that,” Maria said. “She always made sure that I got to bed on time so that I’d do well in school. And she always made sure that I ate my veggies and fruits before my desert.” Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, tears that she was trying to hold in, but tears that were still obvious to Michael.

“Maria, your mom . . .” Michael trailed off, unsure of how to go about asking this, unsure if he was even supposed to. “Maybe you just shouldn’t . . .”

“She died,” Maria blurted, cutting him off before he even had a chance to finish. She hung her head and whispered, “She’s dead.” It was like she had to convince herself that it was true.

Michael didn’t know what to do, what to say to make her feel better. He didn’t even know why the hell he was contemplating making her feel better. He could’ve told her that he understood, because he’d gone through the same thing, but he didn’t, because he couldn’t. His parents, though he’d loved them, they’d never truly loved him the way they should have. They’d loved drugs more than they’d ever been able to love him.

“She and I did everything together,” Maria continued, watching as the little girl grabbed her mother’s hand and they walked off together. “I just always thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Even when I started middle school and most girls were embarrassed to go shopping with their mothers, I’d always want to go with my mom to the mall.” A single tear leaked from her eye as she watched the mother and daughter round a corner and disappear from site. “We were best friends.”

Michael still couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say.

“One day she was there, waiting for me when I came home from my first day of high school,” Maria continued, staring off into space now, “and the next, she was just gone. She was . . . she was dead. And there was nothing I could do to bring her back.”

“Maria, I’m sorry . . .” Michael began. He had no idea why the hell he was apologizing, being considerate. Caring.

“Don’t be sorry,” she told him, looking him in the eyes again for the first time since they’d reached the park. “It’s not your fault. It’s just something that happens.” She sighed and added, “Something that should never have happened.”

“Is that why you joined a gang at fourteen?” Michael asked her. “‘Cause of your mom?”

She nodded mutely.

“But what about your dad?”

Maria visibly tensed at the mention of her father. “I couldn’t go live with him,” she said hurriedly, shaking her head. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Michael asked. He knew he sounded nosy, but he wanted to know.

“I just couldn’t,” Maria repeated. “He . . . he hurts me.”

“He hurts you?” Michael echoed. “Did he hit you or something?”

“No,” Maria replied, hanging her head. “He didn’t have to.”

The more she said, the more it made sense. Her father hadn’t had to hit her to hurt her. There were other ways, ways that were just as bad, if not worse.

“You mean he . . .”

“Every night before the divorce,” Maria filled in, knowing what he was about to ask. “I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. And when I tried to tell mom about it, my throat got all dry and I felt like I couldn’t talk.”

“You should’ve told somebody,” Michael said.

“I couldn’t,” Maria choked out, tears falling down her face freely now. “I felt . . . I felt ashamed . . . dirty. And I felt so scared.”

Michael now understood the fear he’d seen in her eyes the night that he’d gone up to her room and tried to hurt her. She’d never forget what she’d had to deal with early in her life. It would haunt her to her grave, he was sure of it.

“That’s why I joined BlackCon,” Maria told him. “I couldn’t go live with my dad, and I had no one else. So I just ran away and this is what I found. It’s not beautiful and it’s not nice, but it’s all I’ve got now.”

Michael nodded in understanding. “That’s a pretty dramatic story.”

A smile found its way to Maria’s saddened face. “Yeah, it is. But what about you? What’s your story?”

Michael shrugged. “My story’s pretty lame actually. It’d bore you to death.”

“No, I wanna hear it,” she pressed.

He inhaled a deep breath and began. “Well, okay, the short version is, after my parents died, I went to live with my aunt and uncle for years. I hated them about as much as they hated me, and when I graduated, I had it in my head that I needed a new family, that a gang could be my new family. I got into Darkstreet pretty easily, and here I am now.”

“Oh,” Maria said in consideration.

“I told you it was pretty lame.”

“No, it’s not.” She didn’t say anything for a few seconds until she asked, “So, how long have you been in a gang anyway?”

“Six years,” Michael told her.

“So, that makes you like, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-three,” Michael told her.

“And I’m only seventeen, but I’ve been in a gang for three years already,” Maria was saying. “God, that’s sad.”

“It is kinda,” Michael agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence again for another minute or so, until Maria finally said, “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we just had a pretty deep conversation.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I think we did.”

[April]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


“You fuckin’ idiot!”

Michael returned to the Darkstreet crib later that night to a bruised and battered Isabel awaiting his return in their bedroom. She threw a vase at him that just barely missed his head and crashed against the wall instead, shattering into a million tiny pieces once it made contact and cascading into the floor violently.

“Did I miss something?” Michael asked. “‘Cause I’m not the one who just through a vase at somebody’s head!”

“Yes, you did miss something,” Isabel informed him. “In fact, you missed a lot.” She gestured to her beaten body. “Look at me!”

“Yeah, you look like crap,” Michael told her, closing the door so that maybe Max wouldn’t hear them fighting and come give him another lecture about how it was important to apologize to women.

“I was fighting!” she shouted. “I was fighting, and where were you, Michael? Where were you?”

Michael took off his jacket, draping it over his chair and taking the gun out of his pocket. He silently set it down on the table beside his chair, avoiding direct contact with Isabel’s eyes.

“Why weren’t you there?” she asked him. “We needed you there, Michael! We needed you, and you weren’t there! Where the hell were you? What the hell were you doing that was so important that you didn’t have time to help fight for your fuckin’ family?”

“Would you relax?” he said. “I was just out for a walk.”

“Out for a walk?” Isabel echoed in disbelief. “Out for a fuckin’ walk, Michael?”

“Yeah, I was . . .” Michael tried desperately to think of a believable lie. “I was sellin’,” he lied.

“Sellin’ what? Drugs?”

“Yeah. What else?”

Isabel seemed semi-content with this answer. “I guess we do need to make money,” she said, “but that ain’t no reason to skip out on another fight.”

“I know,” Michael agreed. “I’m not gonna do it again.” He suddenly felt like he was explaining himself to his mother instead of his . . . well, girlfriend wasn’t really the right word. Instead of to Isabel.

Why should he have to explain himself to Isabel anyway? He didn’t have to explain to anybody in Darkstreet but Nix. Nix was the only one who held power over him. Michael, himself, held the power over Isabel.

“So, how much did you make?” Isabel asked, taking a few steps closer to him.

Michael shrugged. “Average amount.”

“Average amount, huh?” Isabel continued to move closer. “Can I see?”

“See what?” Michael asked, trying to sound confused.

“The money,” Isabel replied, staring up at him through bruised eyelids. “Can I see it?”

Michael found himself getting uncomfortable again. He knew he didn’t have to explain himself to Isabel, but there was this undeniable risk of getting caught in his lie, of getting caught in a lie involving a BlackCon member, that was really clawing away at him.

“No,” he answered simply and sternly. He was hoping beyond hope that she would accept that reply, but he knew beyond doubt that she wouldn’t.

“Why not?” she asked, shifting back into investigator mode at once.

“You just can’t,” he told her.

“Show me the money, Michael,” Isabel commanded, though she had no right to. “Show me how much you made tonight.”

Michael stood still like a statue, trying to think of a way out of this as fast as he could when a thought suddenly occurred to him. There was one thing that Isabel loved, one thing that could divert her attention away from any issue, no matter how pressing it was.

With all of the force he could muster, Michael reached out and pulled Isabel to him, crushing his lips to hers. Her hands immediately found their way into his hair, digging into his scalp almost painfully. Michael let his hands wander lower and lower on her body, from her back, to her waist, to her ass.

Isabel attacked his lips violently, all thoughts of Michael’s disappearance that night suddenly leaving her mind completely. Her hands left his hair and her fingers began to tear away at his shirt, yanking it over his head and throwing it to the ground so that he stood before her bare-chested. She bent down and began to ravish his chest, swirling her tongue around his nipples while letting her hand trail even farther down to sneak down into his pants and grab him in her hands.

He let her do as she pleased for a short time, not at all enjoying the dance that had become so routine between them. He was so over this, whatever it was that they had once had. It wasn’t anything anymore. It was always the same.

Slowly, Michael began to walk, leading her towards the door. She wasn’t even aware of this fact and moved with him until she heard the door open and felt Michael’s hands shove her out into the hallway hard. He slammed the door in her face, loving the shocked expression he saw on her face as he did so and locked it into place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria ran her hands over the silky material of an orange blouse she’d just spotted in one of the local shopping hot spots, enjoying the smooth, cold feel under her fingers. It was a beautiful blouse. She wanted to take it into a dressing room and try it on, just to see what it would look like on her, but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she did, she would feel even more tempted to buy it than she already was, and she couldn’t be wasting money like that.

“You do know that orange is out, right?” a voice behind her said. Maria turned around slowly and saw Michael standing beside her. She’d grown accustomed to the way he strolled through BlackCon territory like it was his own, and she had to admit that she’d almost been hoping that she’d see him today.

“Where’d you here that?” she asked him.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, a slight hint of red spreading across his cheeks. “Well, you know . . . talk shows,” he muttered.

Maria smiled. “I can’t believe that you’d watch talk shows, Michael.”

“I don’t watch ‘em frequently or anything,” Michael said. “I just tune into Ellen once in awhile.”

“Ellen?” Maria echoed in disbelief. “Ellen says that orange is out?”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a nod. “She’s kinda funny, you know that?”

“She’s also kinda gay,” Maria told him.

“Well . . . I hear that the gays are very up on the new fashions.”

Maria laughed a little. For a second, she was taken aback by the fact that she had laughed, for she hadn’t been able to let herself be happy enough to even conjure the thought of it for quite some time now.

“I wasn’t gonna buy it anyway,” she told him. “It’s too much money.”

Michael leaned down and found the blouse’s price tag. “Fourteen dollars,” he commented. “That’s not a lot.”

“Well,” Maria said, “maybe avid drug-sellers like you have tons of cash to just throw around, but I don’t.” She began to make her way out of the door and back out onto the street, knowing quite well that Michael would follow.

“Hey, I’ve laid off the sellin’,” Michael told her.

“Really?” Maria found it hard to believe.

“Really.”

“For how long?” she asked him.

“Forever,” he replied. “I just decided it wasn’t worth it, you know. And besides, my friend Max has got a real job now.”

“Well, good for you,” Maria told him, surprised that she actually, sort of, in a sense, felt proud of Michael. Selling drugs was sort of like an addiction in itself. Once you started it could be hard to stop, to go from having so much money to having none.

“Oh my God!” Maria exclaimed suddenly, stopping in front of the area’s finest bank. “Look!” She pointed to the building excitedly.

“What?” Michael didn’t seem to get what she was so excited about.

“It’s the bank’s annual employee day,” Maria told him.

“So?”

“So?” Maria echoed. “Michael, every year for employee day, the bank has this huge banquet. All you can eat. That kind of thing.”

“Sounds alright,”

“It’s better than alright,” Maria told him. “It’s the best freakin’ free food you can eat anywhere.”

“Yeah, but, Maria, we’re not exactly employees here at the bank,” Michael reminded her.

“So what? I crash this banquet every year, Michael. Come on.” She headed on inside, motioning for him to follow.

And, of course, he did.

There were so many people in the bank that day for the banquet that they were unnoticed walking inside. People were too busy with their own lives and conversations that they didn’t even take notice of the fact that these two were not employees at all.

“Look at all this food,” Maria commented, surveying the buffet table in front of her excitedly. “Homemade food.” She smiled. “I used to eat like this all the time.”

“I never did,” Michael told her. “For me it was a cheese sandwich every night.”

A wave of sympathy crashed over Maria’s features, and then it disappeared and she was excited about the banquet again. “Then dig in, Michael.”

They made their way around quickly, eating everything that they found appealing and desirable. They didn’t bother to fix a plate and sit down an eat at a table like civilized human beings. They ate right as they walked by, ignoring the questioning glances others were giving them.

“What’re these?” Michael asked when they were towards the end of the long line of food. He held up a plate with a tiny yellow cake on it.

“You don’t wanna eat that,” Maria told him. She knew exactly what that was, and she knew that it wasn’t appetizing.

“What is it?” Michael asked again.

“Those are mustard cakes, Michael,” Maria explained. “See that yellow stuff that’s been molded into a cube shaped thing? That’s all mustard.”

Michael eyed the tiny cake curiously. “Mustard cakes,” he echoed in consideration.

“Those things are sick,” Maria told him. “I accidently ate one last year without knowing what it was, and I found myself in the bathroom three minutes later puking like a pig.”

“Thanks for the visual,” Michael said sarcastically. “But, you know what? Maybe I find mustard cakes to be appealing.”

Maria tried to keep a straight face as she looked at him, and then she bursted out laughing. “Oh, please,” she said, “no one finds mustard cakes appealing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Michael seemed determined to prove her wrong. Keeping direct eye contact with her all the while and making sure that smug look of his remained on his face, he stuffed the entire little cake into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, grimacing as he did so. Maria continued to laugh as she watched him, unaware that even more people were now looking at the two of them.

“You’re right,” Michael said when he had the entire cake down. “Those things are pretty bad.”

The day could have continued like that. It could have, but it didn’t. For whatever reason, it just changed, shifted, in an instant. One minute, Maria was laughing at Michael’s quirky behavior, and the next, panic had erupted.

Two men started shouting for everyone to get down. Maria looked around to see who the source of all of the commotion was, and she saw that two men dressed in business suits who had been pretending to be employees all this time were standing up and holding guns, shouting at the top of their lungs.

“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

“Maria!” Michael shouted. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her down to the ground hard, falling on top of her. Maria watched the commotion unfold as most tried to escape through the front door. A good deal of them succeeded.

“We gotta move!” Michael shouted. He began to crawl on his hands and knees quickly towards the door, staying low to the ground and keeping close to Maria.

All at once, though, a gunshot rang out in the air, piercing the wall directly above Maria’s head. Michael pushed her down to the ground and fell on top of her body once again. The small number of people who hadn’t escaped in the rush froze in place as well as the two men locked the two front doors.

“Everybody go back!” one man commanded, motioning with his gun for everyone to head back into the dining area. “NOW!”

Slowly, they crawled back where they were commanded to. Maria could hardly move. She felt frozen in place, like fear had paralyzed her.

“You’re gonna give us all you got right now!” one man told them. “Money, jewelry, credit cards . . . you hand it over, got it?”

No one could nod, but everyone understood.

Michael handed them all the money he had with him, which turned out to be more than Maria had expected. She, on the other hand, had no money with her. She’d gone out today only to look at clothes and wish she could buy them, and that’s why money hadn’t been a must at the time, but now it certainly seemed that it was.

The men seemed to be growing impatient as they waited for her. She thought that they might walk on by, figuring that she had nothing when one finally yanked her necklace from around her neck and stuffed it in his bag.

Maria pressed herself as closely as she could to the wall as they made their rounds. She could feel and see Michael next to her, but he didn’t appear to be nearly as scared as she was.

Scared. She wasn’t scared.

She was terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she had just sort of assumed that nothing ever would. Now, it was happening, and she had no idea what to do about it, how to react.

When they were done with everyone else, the men started demanding that safes and cash registers be opened, but no one knew how to open them.

“I’m gettin’ impatient, here!” one man shouted, pointing his gun at every person in the room. “You don’t wanna see me when I get impatient!”

“Rick, we better get outta here fast!” the other man was saying. “I hear sirens.”

“FUCK!” Rick shouted. “They weren’t supposed to get out, Jake! They weren’t supposed to get out and call the fuckin’ cops on us!”

“We gotta leave!” Jake was saying, panic evident on his face.

Rick shook his head, clearly the final word between the two. “Nah, it’s too late. They’re right outside. I can hear ‘em.”

“Then what’re we gonna do?” Jake asked.

“We’re gonna stay in here with all of these people until we got a way out,” Rick answered.

“There’s not gonna be a way out,” Jake protested. “And what if they start shooting?”

“They’re not gonna start shooting,” Rick said. “Not with all these innocent civilians in here.”

Innocent. Maria knew she was innocent. She always had been, even though she was part of a gang. But she’d always hoped that somehow she would never become this innocent, trapped in a building with two men who could kill her with one press of the trigger.

It wasn’t long after that that Rick had opened the door just a crack and told the police outside that if they tried anything, he’d shoot every person in the bank until they were all dead. His partner Jake had gone downstairs to the basement and had found some supplies, and he was now bolting up the windows and doors, making sure that there was no other way out.

After that, they sat. Michael, Maria, and the others sat in fear while the two bank robbers paced, thinking of what to do next. When they got bored, they took to moving tables around, pushing them up against the door for extra support. When the tables were cleared out, Maria noticed that she was in a fairly large room, but it seemed too small at the moment, and she seemed far too close to Rick and Jake.

There was a young girl in the corner who had apparently come to eat with her mother, and there was an elderly couple hugging together in the other corner, looking as if they both were about to die of a heart attack.

Maria herself was still sitting next to Michael. He still looked like a stonewall, displaying no fear on his face, sitting in a very relaxed manner.

But she could tell he was scared.

“Michael?” she whispered, turning to look at him. “What’s gonna happen?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t answer because he didn’t know. Gang fights . . . he could handle those, but he had never been in a situation like this before, and he suddenly felt like he had to take care of Maria, too, not just himself.

Why?

“I’m gettin’ bored with this,” Rick was saying. “Time for some fun.” He stood and grabbed one of the remaining dreaded mustard cakes from the table of food and began to walk around, stopping in front of Maria. He smiled mischievously and squatted down, laughing as he stuffed the cake down Maria’s low-cut top. He let his hand linger on her breasts for quite some time as he did so, laughing all the while. Maria wanted to stop him, but she couldn’t. She was worried what might happen if she did.

“I like you,” Rick whispered in a snake-like manner before standing up and walking away.

Maria closed her eyes and hung her head when he walked away. She’d never felt so completely helpless in her entire life. Well, she had once, but that had been a long time ago . . . her father . .

“Great,” she muttered aloud. “Not only am I being held hostage in here, but now I’ve got a mustard cake slammed down my shirt.”

She could almost hear Michael smile. “It’ll be alright,” he told her. “I promise you, it’ll be alright.”

He sounded so sure of everything, but Maria knew that he wasn’t.

[April]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Michael had never been a big fan of the police. They had always been on his ass about something, whether it was drugs or fights or drinking, but now, he suddenly found himself on their side. It was funny how the tables could turn so easily and so quickly.

He wished they would help him, but he knew they had no reason to. They’d been standing out there trying to decide what their next move would be for about an hour now, but no one had done anything, and Michael was beginning to wonder if they ever would.

“I don’t like this, Rick,” Jake was saying. He was clearly more of the coward of the two men. “We shoulda planned this out more instead of jumping right into it.”

“We’re fine,” Rick told him calmly. He was sitting down with his legs propped up on a chair, eating a great deal of the remaining food. He still held his gun in his hand, poised and ready to shoot if he had to. “We’ll be outta here soon.” He stuffed a whole chocolate chip cookie into his mouth at once and stood up, wiping his hands against his pants. “In the meantime,” he said while chewing and making his way across the room, “I wanna have some fun.”

Michael wanted him to stop dead in his tracks and not come anywhere nearer, but he didn’t. He bent down in front of Maria again, still smiling with traces of food stuck in between his teeth this time.

“What’s your name?” he asked her quietly.

She looked him directly in the eye, trying to mask her fear, and she didn’t answer.

“What’s your name, bitch?” he demanded of her, louder this time. He slammed his hand into the wall behind her, creating an echoing boom and causing her to jump.

“Maria,” she told him quietly, lowering her gaze from his.

“Maria,” Rick whispered, running his tongue across his lips and moving his hand up to run through her hair. “Maria . . .” As he let his sentence trail off, he let his hand trail down her body until he was cupping one fabric covered breast in his hand.

“I like you, Maria,” he said. “I think I’ve already told you that.” He began to knead her breast harshly, causing her to squirm. “Stop,” she told him as sternly as she could.

“You’re so . . .” Rick let his hand trail even lower so that it was resting on her stomach. “Nice.” He let it drop lower, touching her elsewhere now.

“Please stop,” she begged of him. “Please.” He ignored her request, laughing and smiling as he continued to touch her.

Michael didn’t think he could watch any more of this. With all of the bravery and courage he could manage, he stood up, causing Rick to stop what he was doing. He stared up at him in shock and stood up as well, meeting his height exactly. His gaze was challenging, and so was Michael’s.

“Keep your damn hands off her,” Michael told him, making sure he understood.

“What’re you gonna do ‘bout it?” Rick shot back. “What’re you gonna do, huh?”

“I’ll kill you,” Michael told him simply. “I’ll throw you down on the ground so hard that your bones echo when they break. I’ll beat you so bad that they won’t even know it’s you when they find you dead.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rick agreed sarcastically. With an incredible suddeness and force, he reached both hands out and pushed him back down onto the floor. Michael felt himself slam hard against the wall, but he tried not to let the pain register on his face.

Rick kept smiling as he walked away and head back over towards the food table. He kept his eyes on Maria all while he ate.

Maria was silent for a few minutes, but at last she turned to Michael and whispered, “Why did you do that?”

“Why?” Michael echoed in disbelief. “Why?”

She nodded. “Yes, why? He could’ve killed you.”

“But he was hurting you,” Michael said. “I had to do something.”

“No, you didn’t have to,” Maria told him. “But you did.” She half-way smiled.

Michael shrugged it off as if it were nothing and said no more. He didn’t understand how he’d gotten himself into this situation. He wasn’t truly surprised that he was caught in the middle of an attempted bank robbery. That was the kind of thing that happened all the time in LA, and he was actually surprised he hadn’t been in the middle of one sooner than this. He just didn’t understand how he’d gotten himself into helping the enemy, into wanting to kill people who hurt her.

What was truly frightening was the fact that he’d meant every word that he’d said. If any one of the two guys touched her, he would kill them without a second thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’d been at least two hours, and now people were starting to get even more worried. The little girl who’d come to eat with her mother was crying rather audibly in the corner now, and Maria could tell that Rick was getting annoyed by it. The little girl’s mother was trying to calm her down by holding her tightly and telling her a story, but her efforts did no good. The child continued to cry.

“Would you shut her up?” Rick spat suddenly. The harsh tone of his loud voice only caused the little girl to cry harder, clinging to her mother for comfort.

Rick made his way over to the mother and daughter, ripping the child away from her mother’s embrace. “Kid, what you need to do is shut the hell up, got it?” he said, shaking the girl by the shoulders. “You’re fuckin’ gettin’ on my nerves!”

“Don’t yell at her!” the mother warned him.

“You’re gettin’ on my nerves, too!” Rick told her. “Shut up!”

The little girl began to cry some more when she heard the man yelling at her mother.

“Shut up!” Rick shouted again. “Everybody just shut up!”

“Stop yelling!” the mother told him. “You’re making it worse!”

A look of clear impatience and great annoyance showed up on Rick’s enraged face. “I don’t fuckin’ care!” he shouted. With that, he curled his hand into a fist and swung, hitting the mother square in the face.

Maria jumped at the action. She wanted to go over and help the woman, but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t even help herself in this situation.

The little girl took this opportunity to get away from the man. She crawled on her hands and knees away from him as fast as she could, heading straight towards Michael. She didn’t make it all the way, though, as Rick stopped her. He pushed her back against a wall not too far away from Michael and Maria, holding her there by her arms. The child was screaming in pain because of his tight grip, but he didn’t let go.

“I told you to shut up,” Rick said. “I told you to shut up, kid, but you didn’t.” He reached for his gun in his back pocket.

“Michael,” Maria whispered, afraid of what might happen next.

“NO!” the mother was screaming, trying desperately to make her way over to her daughter as Rick pointed the gun. “NO!”

The little girl continued to cry and scream.

“I told you to shut up!” Rick repeated, louder this time. “I told you to fuckin’ shut up!” All at once, the sound of his gun going off overpowered the sound of the mother’s screams, and the child’s crying ceased to exist. Maria turned away, closing her eyes as the gun went off. She grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders, holding onto him so tightly that she was sure it hurt. She hadn’t seen what had happened, but she didn’t need to. The shocked silence that emanated in the room and the mother’s sorrowful wailing was enough to tell her.

Maria felt her heart pounding as Rick walked past her and sat down by the food table again. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even care that he’d just killed an innocent child.

“Madison!” the mother was shouting. “No! Maddie!”

Maria still had her face hidden in Michael’s shoulder, but she could envision the scene that lay so close to her. She knew she would find the weeping mother holding her dead child as she bled if she looked up. She knew she would.

Maria could hear her own breath coming out in harsh gasps as the fear radiated throughout her body. She tried to sit up again, but Michael didn’t let her.

“Don’t look,” he told her quietly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer into him. She let herself stay holding onto him, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. Even as she willed herself not to cry, tears seeped out and began to spill down her cheeks, dripping down onto Michael’s shirt after a short time. She tried to muffle the sounds she made in hopes that Rick would not hear her and get fed up with her as well.

Michael let her cry, and he comforted her as she did so. He held her tightly, and, for some reason, it was the only comfort Maria could find. She didn’t know why, but, suddenly, she never wanted to leave his embrace. She felt safe with him, like he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, like he would protect her no matter what.

“Maddie!” the woman was still crying. “Maddie!”

Unfortunately, Michael Guerin could not protect everyone.

[April]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


This had been going on for too long now. It had to stop sometime. These guys couldn’t just keep them in here forever. They couldn’t.

Maria had stopped crying now, but she was still holding onto him in the same way that she had been before. Michael had lost all feeling in his left arm by now, but he still didn’t push her away. She needed comfort right now, of that much he was sure, and for some reason, he wanted to be the one to provide her with that comfort.

The mother was not holding her daughter anymore. It’d all become too much, and she’d retreated to the corner again where she’d thrown up several times because of the fact that this situation was so utterly disgusting and terrible. Madison’s body still lay in close proximity to both Michael and Maria though, and Michael was having a hard time forming a coherent thought with the dead child laying so close to him.

There was one thought, however, that was persistent in his mind all the time. This had to stop. This had to stop. Now.

“Maria,” Michael whispered, shifting slightly so that he could regain some sort of feeling in his left arm again. She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t move, either, and Michael thought for a moment that she might have fallen asleep. “Maria,” he repeated again.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she said at last. “Unfortunately.”

Making sure that both Rick and Jake were out of earshot, Michael reluctantly removed Maria from his arms, making sure that he stayed close to her and whispered quietly. “Maria, I’m gonna get us outta here.”

Her eyes met his, confused and perplexed. “What?” she asked as if the sentence were foreign to her.

“I’m gonna get us outta here,” Michael told her again. “I can fight . . .”

“Michael, no!” Maria exclaimed a little too loudly. She lowered her voice. “Michael, they could . . .”

“Kill me?” he finished. “Maria, I’ve survived hundreds of gang fights. I think I can take on these two losers.”

Maria shook her head. “No, no, no, Michael, I don’t think you can, ‘cause, see, they’ve got guns and you don’t, and they could kill you just like that if they wanted to.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “but I can throw them down on the ground so hard that their bones echo when they break, and I can beat them so bad that they won’t even know it’s them when they find them dead.” He realized he was quoting himself from earlier, and Maria realized he was, too. He smiled, but she did not.

“I don’t like this,” Maria told him. “I don’t think you should.”

Without wanting to, Michael looked over at the young girl that lay dead on the floor. “I think I have to,” he said simply.

Maria followed his gaze, and she witnessed the site of the dead, bleeding girl for the first time now. Michael had been trying to shield her from the image, but he couldn’t any longer.

“Oh, God,” Maria gasped in a whisper. She closed her eyes and turned her head to Michael again. “Michael, I just want you to know that I don’t hate you like I should and . . .” She trailed off when she felt his body slip away from hers. She opened her eyes. “Michael?”

He was on his feet and walking away from her. He seemed so close, almost close enough that she might be able to reach out and pull him back, but, at the same time, so very far away.

She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him now.

She watched as everything played out, forcing herself not to take another glance at Madison. She was suddenly feeling extremely sick and utterly exhausted, and she just wanted to die and not feel anything ever again.

But she couldn’t do that, because she heard Michael’s voice, and the very knowledge that he was alive and fighting for her and everyone else in the building was enough to keep her going.

She heard Michael yell out a curse as his fist came into contact with Rick’s face, and she saw Rick fall to the floor. Jake immediately pulled out his gun, but Michael knocked it out of his hands before he could do anything with it.

From there on, it was brutal. Rick wasn’t as stupid as Michael had thought he was. The guy knew how to fight, and even Jake could throw some decent punches, and since no one could possibly help Michael Guerin, he was completely outnumbered.

Rick grabbed Michael by his shirt and threw him into the wall. He hit with a thud and slid to the floor. Rick went on to hit him harder than Maria had ever seen anyone hit anyone else so that blood covered his entire face. With all of his remaining strength, Michael pushed Rick off of him and tried to stand up, but Jake seemed to appear out of nowhere and push him right back down again. He socked him in the stomach hard, causing Michael to shout out in pain and fall on his side, clutching his stomach with his arms.

“Get up,” Rick was saying. When Michael didn’t respond, he shouted, “GET UP!”

Michael, or at least what was left of him, forced himself up into a sitting position, but could go no further.

“That was a pretty fucked up thing to do,” Rick said, grabbing him by his shirt again and pulling him into a standing position. “You know that? I’m gonna kill you now, ‘cause of what you just did.” A smirk appeared on his lips, and he looked back at Maria, who was still sitting where Michael had left her, a look of complete and utter chaos appearing on her face.

Laughing, Rick pulled Michael over to stand in front of Maria. “I’m gonna kill you,” he repeated, “and I’m gonna make your bitch watch!” He laughed some more, and Jake joined in, although his sounded forced. “This is perfect!” Rick said. “This is so god-damned perfect!”

Maria looked at the bruised and battered Michael Guerin, “The Hulk”, as many called him, and she saw that he was looking at the ground. He would not allow himself to meet her eyes. Maria was sure that he felt like he’d let them both down.

Jake handed Rick his gun, and Rick checked to make sure it was loaded. When he was sure it was, he pointed it directly at Michael’s head. “I’m gonna shoot you until there’s nothing left of you to shoot,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m gonna kill you so many times that you can’t even keep up count.”

This guy was crazy, and he was going to kill Michael. Michael looked . . . not like Michael. He looked like he’d . . . given up.

“Remember,” Rick said, placing his hand on the trigger, “she’s watching.” He was about to fire when something snapped inside of Maria and she realized that she could not let his happen.

“Wait!” she shouted, shooting to her feet. She saw both Rick and Jake turn their heads to face her, and she knew she had their attention now. “Don’t kill him,” she practically begged.

“And why the hell should I not?” Rick asked, facing the gun at Maria now.

“Because if you don’t,” Maria answered, trying hard to think of a reason Rick would not want to kill Michael. She hung her head and looked at the ground as she choked out eight words that were painful to say as they escaped her lips. “Because if you don’t, you can have me.”

“Have you?” Rick echoed in question. “What exactly do you mean by ‘have’ you?”

Maria didn’t want to have to explain this all to them. She couldn’t deal with saying it all out loud. “I mean you can . . . you can do whatever you want with me, just as long as you don’t kill him,” she finally said, forcing herself to look up at them again.

Rick smiled. “You know, I was set on killing your boyfriend here, but this is a rather appealing concept. Don’t you agree, Jake?”

Jake shrugged and was silent.

All at once, Rick dropped Michael, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud. He dropped his gun, too, and made his way over to Maria. He placed one hand on her shoulder and pushed her against the wall and wrapped the other around her so that he could squeeze her ass. She groaned, not because of pleasure, but because of pain.

While Rick began to suck on her neck and press his enclosed erection into her lower body, Maria let herself look down at Michael, who was still laying on the ground, apparently unable to get up. He was looking at her now, too, and she could see by the look on his battered face that he felt he needed to do something, but she also knew that he couldn’t.

She let herself cry as Rick touched her. He laughed when he heard her crying, finding a sick pleasure out of the whole situation. “Am I hurting you?” he asked her, his breath tickling her neck and causing her to shiver. When she didn’t answer him, he asked her again, “Am I hurting you?”

“Yes,” she choked out. She couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t. This was the worst way in which someone could hurt her, because she’d been hurt like this so many times before, and it never got any easier to deal with.

“Good,” he murmured, lifting his head up. “Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at me.”

She did as he told her, and she saw an evil so great in his eyes that reminded her exactly of her father.

She cried harder.

“You don’t wanna do that,” a voice suddenly said. Maria stopped crying when she realized that Michael was saying something.

“Why would I not wanna do this?” Rick spat.

“Because, it’s rape.” Michael was struggling to talk, but he was keeping it as together as he could.

“No, it isn’t,” Rick argued. “She gave me her consent.”

“Because she had to.”

“No, you see, she didn’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Michael continued. “The point is, I know the cops in this town, and I know that they aren’t gonna look too highly upon you raping this girl here.”

“I’ve already killed a child!” Rick shouted. “What’s one more thing added to the list?”

“One more thing could mean ten more years,” Michael told him. “Look, I’m just trying to help you out here.”

Rick looked from Maria to Michael, clear frustration and rage showing in his eyes. Finally, though, he let go of Maria and threw her down beside Michael. “I hate you both!” he shouted as he walked away.

Maria just sat there leaning against the wall for a few seconds, trying to think about all that had just happened, and Michael just lay beside her. He didn’t even look like Michael, though. He was so wounded.

They met each other’s eyes, and Maria wished she could tell him thank you, but she couldn’t even speak. Instead, she reached down and touched his cheek. His blood smeared over her hand, and when she thought about all that they had endured, she began to cry again.


Finally, she was able to stop crying. She still was feeling all of these emotions that she hated feeling—hopelessness, dread, sorrow—but he was there, and he was comforting, and, for some reason, that helped.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Michael hadn’t been paying attention to what Maria was saying. He’d managed to regain a little bit of his strength now and was trying to think up a way to get out of here, still. The sun was setting now, and he was getting more than fed up with all of this. They couldn’t just keep them in here forever.

“You and me. BlackCon and Darkstreet. Stuck here together.”

Michael shrugged. “I guess so.” Actually, he really hadn’t thought about it too much. He’d mainly just been thinking about the fact that he was stuck here, and he was going to get out, and he was going to take her with him, whether she was BlackCon or not.

“And we’re helping each other,” she continued in a sleepy voice. Michael knew it had been a long time since she’d slept. “We aren’t supposed to be helping each other, Michael.”

“I know,” he said, “but we kinda have to, don’t you think?”

“No, I mean, you could’ve just let him rape me, you know.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Michael admitted. In his head, he was hearing Maria tell him the story of her life again, all about her father and what he’d done. “But you could’ve just let me die.”

“No, I couldn’t do that, either.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I dunno.”

Michael didn’t know, either. He felt like he didn’t know anything anymore. He didn’t know how he’d gotten in here in the first place (stupid banquet), and he didn’t know why he couldn’t get out. Most of all, though, he didn’t know why he felt this overall need to protect this girl that he was supposed to hate.

“I told people I hated you,” Michael admitted. “I told Max I was gonna kill you.”

Maria laughed a little. “I highly doubt you’re gonna do that.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “I highly doubt it, too.”

They both fell silent as Rick crossed the room. The guy was starting to look a little more worn down, and that was a good sign.

He disappeared into the back, probably to use the restroom.

“This is it,” Michael told Maria. “We gotta do this now.”

“Do what?”

Michael smiled at her. “You’ll see. I got a way with words.” He struggled to his feet and motioned for Maria to stand up as well. With her help, he staggered over to where Jake was sitting. He was looking worn out as well, even more so than Rick was.

“Hey, we need your help,” Michael told him quietly.

“I can’t help you.”

“Yes, you can,” Michael pressed. “You can let us outta here right now. All of us.”

Jake shook his head. “No, no, the cops . . .”

“The cops will think better of you for it,” Michael promised. “Trust me.”

Jake continued to shake his head. “I can’t.”

“Look, if you help us right now,” Michael said, “I promise you that I will testify for you in court and not against you. I promise that I will let everyone know that you didn’t kill that little girl and that you didn’t lay a hand on Maria. It’ll all be pinned on Rick, and you’ll get off easier.”

“I can’t afford to get caught! I have a life!”

“Keep your voice down and listen to me real hard,” Michael told him, suddenly feeling like he was in charge now. “You gotta start thinkin’ about yourself, here. If you don’t let us all out and surrender now, you’re goin’ in for a longer time. You’ll be in there longer than you even wanna think about. If you really do wanna have a life, you’ll let us out now. You understand me, Jake?”

Slowly, Jake nodded.

“You gonna help me?” Michael asked him, just to be sure.

Jake nodded again and stood up, making his way slowly to the door. They had the door so reinforced that it was taking him awhile.

“You gotta move faster,” Michael said, noting the sound of water running as Rick washed his hands. “You gotta move faster, man.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Rick shouted suddenly as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Jake, what the hell?”

“Go!” Jake shouted, finally getting the doors open. People hurled themselves through the doors and ran out down the steps to the awaiting police. Michael grabbed Maria’s hand and pulled her quickly with him, just as Rick fired a shot that narrowly missed his head.

After that, a round of shots was fired inside between Rick and Jake. It wasn’t them against the police, now. They were fighting each other.

“Let’s get outta here,” Michael told Maria, tugging on her hand and dragging her away from the scene. He didn’t want her to witness anything she shouldn’t have to. He knew she’d seen worse, but, somehow, the knowledge that she was seventeen made him feel even more responsible to protect her, because no one else would.

They left without answering any questions for the police or having any paramedics look at them or seeing if Rick or Jake emerged victorious in their battle, but they left, and that was all that mattered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria wanted to collapse. She felt exhausted and drained, and she felt confused and complex. She wanted to sit down and never get up, and she thought she might be about the most tired person on the planet, but she looked at Michael, and she realized she’d thought wrong. Not only was Michael tired, but he was injured. Greatly injured. There was no doubt in Maria’s mind that he wanted to collapse even more than she did, but an inner obstinance kept him from admitting that he was damaged.

They were walking the borderline now, and Maria knew they would have to split up soon. They couldn’t risk anyone seeing them.

“I should probably be heading that way soon,” she said, pointing in the direction of the BlackCon crib.

“And I should probably be heading the opposite way,” Michael put in. “I, uh . . . I just . . .” He trailed off.

“You just what?”

He sighed and ran his tongue across his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered at last. “I guess I just wanted to tell you thank you or something.”

Maria couldn’t help but smile. Michael didn’t seem like the type of guy that said thank you very much. That much was clear in his rather less than elegant apology, but it didn’t matter. It meant just as much the same.

“I really didn’t do anything that you should be grateful for. Except the saving your life thing.”

Michael smiled, too. “You’re kinda weird, you know that, DeLuca?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

He stood there for a few more seconds, until he decided to head off in his own direction without another word. Maria was thinking about letting him when she realized she couldn’t.

“Thank you.” She spoke quietly, loud enough that he could hear her, but soft enough so that no one else would. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around. “I really didn’t do anything that you should be grateful for,” he said at last, echoing her own words. With that, he walked away slowly, and Maria could only watch him go. “Yeah, you did,” she whispered.