CHICAGO BULLOCK (MXM)

One

Chicago was only eight when he realised his life was screwed. Growing up in the worst part of Detroit where there were gangs and drugs at every corner. While other kids grew up with a mother and a father, the blunt answer he got from his mother at the age of five when he asked his mother where his own father was, was traumatic. That nigga is dead! That was the one piece of information of his father he ever got to know.

You would think that should have been when Chicago noted that he got the worst side of living, but no! He was still oblivious to the darkness encircling his life. The realisation dawned on him when his mother staggered home high as a hyena and drunk with a bottle of vodka dangling loosely in her hand looking like a hobo. That was when eight year old Chicago realised that he's been screwed over by the universe.

But the day his life took a turn for the worst was when he was thirteen. He had just gotten back from school when he found in his mother hunched in a corner with a syringe hanging loosely between her fingers, a string tied on her arm. He didn't need to be told that this pale woman known as his mother was dead. Her brown skin was grey and her lips dry and chirped.

He had called an ambulance for her and hid behind the tree that was beside their two bedroom house. He waited till he saw the paramedics roll his mother out of the house into the ambulance before running further away from that house. There was no way in hell he was going to be put in the system. Just no ways!

"I hear you Claire, but I need you to move him slightly to the right," Chicago spoke to his Hilton hotel contact, as he peers through his snipper.

He saw the male figure move in full sight of the window Chicago was aiming at. A smile curved in his lips as he applauded Claire for a job well done. His index finger slowly squeezed the trigger. In a speed of lightning the bullet pierced the window and went straight to the bald target. Chicago saw his shadow crumbling to the ground and the satisfaction in his eyes could not be masked.

"Good job, Claire. You're ten thousand dollars richer," he said with a smug smile as he packed away his weapon.

He wired the money to the beautiful brunette that has helped him to eliminate his hundred thousand worth of a target. His walk had an extra bounce to it as he climbed down to the parking building. A smile forever plastered on his lips, highlighting his faint dimples. Something about Chicago screamed innocence, but boy...was he trouble.

He threw his snipper bag in his trunk before climbing into his black Audi. That was when he heard the far away sirens and the flashes of blue and red coming in sight. Cops were useless. Always an hour late to the scene. Chicago chuckled shaking his head before pulling away and driving off.

It was not all the time that Chicago went out to celebrate his successful hit but today he was going to go to Sam's bar and have a drink or two. The past couple of months he's been getting clean hits with no hiccups. He deserved a stiff drink.

With the gloves and the black leather jacket discarded in his trunk as well, Chicago walked into the bar looking hot in his black jeans and T-shirt paired with black boots. He ordered himself a bottle of beer before taking the table right at the middle of the almost empty bar. A band playing soft music and the scent of cigars lingered in the air accompanied by the smoke.

Well, Chicago didn't do cigars but he did smoke cigarettes. He pulled out his box of cigarettes, slipping one out. He had taken two puffs when the chair opposite him was pulled. Chicago's eyes immediately went to the figure in front of him not missing the tattoos that covered his arms and peeped through his white t-shirt to his neck. Chicago was more than ready for war when suddenly the guy gave him a beautiful smile making his grey eyes sparkle.

"Do you have a spare cigarette?" He asked.

Chicago was still cautious even as he digs for his box of cigarettes. He offered one to the man opposite him and even handed him a lighter.

"I'm Igor Oblast," he said as he puffs out some smoke.

"Chicago Bullock."

"Come here often?" He asked flicking the ash off his cigarette.

Chicago took a gulp of his beer and shrugged.

"I wouldn't say so," he answered disinterested.

Igor grinned his eyes doing a sweep over Chicago's frame.

"If you did I would have asked you out a long time ago," he declared.

Chicago was slightly stunned and amused.

"And what makes you think I like men?" He squashed his cigarette on the ashtray.

Igor shrugged biting his lip as he too squashes his own cigarette on the ashtray.

"Just taking my chances. If I let this chance pass me by then I'd beat myself up for it all my life," he declared.

Chicago chuckled. He leaned back on his chair playing with the bottle of beer on the table. His eyes going up and down Igor's frame as his taunting smile stretched his lips.

"Brave. I like that. Let's say I agree to you taking me out. Where exactly would you take me? Your answer can make or kill all this," he said.

Igor winced even as he leans forward his index finger circling the top of his wiskey glass, while owning his own smile.

"Anywhere you like to go, I could make it possible. Even if it is having dinner while sky diving. I can live life on the edge," his smile turned into a cocky one.

Chicago couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. He snapped his fingers calling for the waiter.

"Let's order some shots. If you can handle your alcohol, I'll let you determine where you take all this," he added a wink to back up his statement.

Igor clicked his tongue multiple times while shaking his head.

"You're playing a dangerous game Chicago," he warned.

"Who said the edge was made for only white boys with tattoos and Armani watches?" He quirk a brow up.

Igor took one glance of his watch and chuckled before locking eyes with Chicago.

"Well played," he said with a shrug and a killer smile.