Me, You, and Mason

23

The trip with Sage had been a hard one for him and Ken. It was more demanding than the last job Ken signed them up for, and it left them with bruises that paired with scars no one could see.

The job was the same: go pick up some money. But it wasn't until they were parking in a residential area that they realized they'd be hitting a lick just as they had when they were teenagers.

It felt as if they were in a haze, plopped into a living flashback. With masks and quiet footsteps, they disengaged locks and toted guns.

Robbing wasn't as easy as it used to be, as home surveillance systems were more accessible than ever. But where there was a will, there was a way.

And one thing about Kenrō, there would always be a way. With guns drawn and squabbles had, the money was eventually collected as blood spilled.

The ride home was silent and frantic. Adrenaline pumped and hearts thumped. While Sage cradled the bag of stacks that'd been raided and splattered with blood, Ken drove with a casualty that wouldn't stir suspicion from even the most cynical onlooker.

The silence carried them on and tucked them into the quiet of their home.

Ken was the first to break it as they parked. "Yo... I appreciate you doin' this wit' me—"

"Keep everything, mane. I don't want no dealings."

Sage got out of the car without delay, not offering a farewell nor a last glance. With a sigh, Ken followed him inside.

Setting the bag of money in the living room, Ken trudged into his room. His clothing, stiff with drying blood and smelling of gunpowder, grew to a pile that would later serve as bonfire fuel.

He showered, fighting off the fresh memories of the last two hours. He thought of putting on some music just to drown out his thoughts but settled with suffering in his solitude.

Refreshed from the shower and adorned in new clothes, Ken collected the bag once again and made his way to its rightful handler.

There was questioning about Sage: Why wasn't he here?

The answer was as simple as it was heart wrenching for Ken. "He's done," and it was true in more ways than one.

Ken was given his cut of the money as well as Sage's. With a re-up for his regular endeavor needed, he was saddled with ounces of herb. He was sent on his way, and with a need to decompress, his wheels sped to Daybreak.

All of his vices tugged at his headspace, but it was the craving for strong alcohol and a warm body that ultimately led him to the club. As he searched for parking, Melody crossed his mind.

Maybe Bloodstone should be the move instead, he thought. But he didn't like the thought of being the one getting drunk by himself at the bar while a band played.

"That's not a good look," he murmured at the thought.

He pondered on The Skyboxx. After all, it had been a while since he was last there, and they did have some great drinks and great wings.

But he figured that going to the stripclub and paying for a dancer to listen to his problems was equally as pathetic as the previous option. Besides, he wasn't about to blow the money he'd just gotten.

He also didn't want to run into Jamilah. She had a habit of being clingy to any man showing her attention, and after the night they'd spent together, he wanted to see her as seldom as possible.

At least Jamilah was a guaranteed fuck, he thought with a shrug. Just as he pondered turning out of the lot and heading to The Skyboxx— almost out of thin air— a parking spot appeared.