More Than What Meets the Eye-Oscar Diaz-On My Block

14

One thing I liked about racing was the fact that I could get away from Freeridge when I wanted to and honestly I needed that right now.

I needed to be distracted by the hustle and bustle of the city was always so enticing. I needed to take in the flickering lights and the constant background noise, the city always made me feel a little bit less lonely. It was always so busy; it distracted me from my generally lackluster life, providing the illusion that my life was much more exciting than it really was and reminding me of what I wanted to provide my grandmother.

The honking of car horns and the constant shuffling of business coats and briefcases brought me back to the present. Nothing was quite as mesmerizing as a city at night.

I was slowly pulling into the garage.

"It ain't my fault!" A panicked voice sounded closer than the first shout. Well, that wasn't a happy tone. Peeking around the corner of a building, I saw a couple of guys huddled together in a group. A dirty alleyway between the garage and the streets. This is definitely not shady whatsoever. Muffled thuds came from the group. Looking closer, it looked like the group was huddled around somebody, and with those thuds, I could only assume what was going on. Oh God, was somebody getting mugged? More hushed arguing took place and I tried to gather what I could.

"Don't bullshit me! You sold us faulty parts. Give us what you owe us, and this will all be over." One of the guys threatened the shorter guy in the center.

"The parts were fine when I sold 'em! If you weren't such a dumbass—" his voice got cut off by his own grunt as he got punched again. Somebody has to stop this, and seeing as nobody else is around, I'm the sole option. I sighed to myself; I'm not good with conflict, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I closed my eyes and mentally prepared myself, clutching my Desert Eagle before walking out of my car and approaching the group.

"Hey! What do y' all think you're doing?" I shouted, holding my gun to my side.

The group stopped what they were doing and turned to face me. And just like that, what little bravery I had mustered up earlier quickly dissipated.

The group turned to face each other, laughed amongst themselves, and turned towards me once more. One of them scoffed and approached me. His somewhat shaggy, semi-bleached hair was the first thing I noticed; an interesting look, to say the least. A small laugh escaped before I could prevent it.

"You think something's funny?" The blonde guy got close enough so he was practically in my face. And then it hit me how quickly this situation could go sour. I mean, this group clearly had no problem beating up people in a shady alleyway. I'm sure giving them a reason to get upset wouldn't help my case.

"No- I mean. It's just your hair. But, not that's it's funny, I was just taken back by it. I mean it's a nice color, I just personally would never bleach my hair—" I quickly cut myself off before that could spiral any further out of control. God... That was so awkward and unnecessary. "It doesn't matter. What matters is what you guys were doing a minute ago. Leave that guy alone." I was pretty proud of myself, my voice didn't quiver nearly as much as I thought it would. The blonde gave me the once over and smirked.

"You're not in any position to be demanding anything. You don't know who you're talking to. I'd suggest you scurry on home before you get involved in something you really don't want to get involved with, woman."

He was now uncomfortably close to me and my hand twitched. What I really don't want to be doing is pepper spraying him, but I was beginning to think I might have to. He had such a cocky look as if he knew that I wasn't going to be able to stand my ground for very long. He wasn't wrong, my confidence was dwindling and I needed to act now.