Los Angeles, California
FRENCH NOTICED ENRIQUE LONGINGLY watching his pool in the backyard. He'd been fixated on it the entire day. French placed his glass cup on the marble table with a firm thud, startling the ten year old and making him look at the owner of the house.
"My pool is not for you, don't go in it." He said, sternly.
Honestly speaking, he had no reason he didn't want the child swimming. He just didn't want the kid in his damn pool. He was already uncomfortable with them being in his house. He was doing enough as it was by protecting them and that was all he needed to do. He wasn't here to be courteous. Once he killed the Italian mob members, back off to the streets they were going.
Enrique didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He'd been pretty bored here these last few days. Of course because of his new circumstances he wasn't allowed to text friends or update his social media. There wasn't much to do besides watch tv in the room he shared with his mom or surf the Internet. He damn sure didn't go anywhere else in the house.
French went into the fridge and pulled out a tray of eggs, sausage links, and some peppers and onions. He set it next to his toast and butter. Enrique sure missed Omari and couldn't wait until this was all over.
"Did you catch the bad guys yet?" He asked. He knew he probably wasn't suppose to be asking that because he was a child. But he was the one to help translate most their conversations, so he wasn't oblivious to what was going on.
French looked over his shoulder at the kid. "If I did you wouldn't be here."
"What do you do, for a living I mean."
"I mind the business that pays me."
Enrique furrowed his eyebrows. "It was just a question."
French narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder. "Why don't you go feed your little brother or something."
"He can't eat normally." Enrique said in a tone that suggested it was the obvious.
"Well go teach him how. Some retarded people learn to live and function like normal people if you teach them."
"My brother's not retarded!" Enrique yelled, banging the counter. He shocked even himself and his mother who came strolling into the kitchen.
What's going on? Inola signed to her son.
This dumb guy just called Joshua retarded! I hate it here I wish we can go home! He signed angrily, tears in his eyes as he got up and left his cereal. He wasn't even hungry anymore. He flew up the stairs two at a time and slammed the room door.
It immediately made French rigid, grinding his jaw. He wasn't opposed to hurting a kid. He'd never done it, but with the loss of his wife he'd become a shell of a human.
Inola and French were left in the kitchen. Inola stared at his back as he moved around, cooking as if nothing happened. She had her notepad and pen in her hand already and placed it down to write something. She tapped him when she was done but he didn't take it right away, focusing on flipping his eggs over in the pan. Once he did that he lowered the fire and read her message.
My son is not retarded, please stop saying that. It's dehumanizing and it's morally wrong. He's mentally impaired or special needs.
French snatched the pen out her hand and wrote back, before giving her back her pen and pad.
I'll let you know when I'm working for the government and give a fuck about political correctness. If you're retarded, you're retarded. If you're a faggot, you're a faggot. If you're a slut, you're a slut and if you're ugly, you're ugly. I'll say what the fuck I want when I want. Especially when it's the truth. Take that liberal bullshit somewhere else.
Inola looked up and saw his back was facing her again as he moved all over the kitchen. She didn't say anything else and walked away. She wasn't as angry as she should've been at the fact he had disrespected her child, in a weird way she could tell he wasn't doing it to be deliberately mean. It just seemed that he had a lot of issues. He was so angry, so bitter. She wondered what happened to make him act this way.
French collected his plate that had a healthy amount of eggs, sausage and four pieces of whole wheat toast with butter. He ate for two people, but this was a habit from usually being outside all day on missions and not being able to eat, so he ate a lot in the morning to last him for the whole day sometimes.
He sat at the other end of the table, far away from Inola. The kitchen was quiet but he was aware she was there because she was making some kind of soft rhythmic pattern with the back of her knuckles. It was actually really irritating. He was chewing his eggs but had to stop and glance up at her.
She was looking across the room, but he could tell she was aware he was looking at her. She held her notepad and pen loosely in her hand. Her body language suggested she wanted to say something else, but he wasn't going to ask. Inola finally looked in his direction and saw the annoyance on his face, so she stopped drumming her fingers and twisted her lips to the side.
It was quiet but awkward because she was just standing there watching him eat. After a while French let his fork drop in his plate, making the metal slap against the ceramic dish. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, "What?" He said, he was sure she could understand that.
She scribbled something down in her book and slid it all the way on the other side to him. He found the newest page and read it quickly.
I'd like my children and I to visit my fiancé today. He's in the hospital in a coma.
French simply looked up at her. "No." He said, sure she was able to tell what he said, again.
Inola clasped her hands together and pushed her bottom lip out.
French sat up and made a motion with his hand for the writing utensil. Inola sent it skidding across the table and he caught it. He wrote something down for her and sent it back across the table, continuing to eat.
Look, I know you're "special needs" like your son, but you seem to be the high functioning one. So I'm going to need you to use your high functioning brain and understand we're being targeted by the Mafia. This is not a game, so unless you wanna try and go visit him and end up deaf and dead, I highly consider you think about reality for a minute. Visiting your boyfriend is not top priority right now. You'll get to do what you want when this is all over.
Inola wrote back in the notepad, it would be easier with Enrique here to translate but not every conversation was meant for a child. This time instead of sliding it across the table she walked over to him and placed it next to his plate.
Please I have to see him. He's in a coma and he needs me, he needs the kids. I know this is serious but what about the clothes, the makeup, the wigs you bought me? I can throw something together and look like a whole new person. I have my fake ID and everything. I don't want him to think I've abandoned him. I just want him to hear my voice, to know I'm safe. We won't stay long, please French.
His toast was midway to his mouth, the edges slightly burned but overall it had a nice taste too it. He glanced at her before writing one more thing in the notebook.
NO.
******
French's hand gripped the steering wheel as Inola and the kids were piled into his black Range Rover, headed to Mercy hospital. He had no idea how he had let this happen or why. She just wouldn't stop begging. He didn't cave in because he felt bad, because if he wanted to make her stop he definitely could; but he was only doing this as a 'if anything went wrong on the way there or back, you caused this' sort of thing.
The air conditioning was on and her and her older son was signing back and forth. There seemed to be a slight mood boost in the car from both of them. French eyed his rear view mirror to see the special one with his eyes open, looking at nothing. His head was hanging over and his mouth was closed.
French made sure to keep his eyes on his surroundings to see if they were being watched or followed on the road, but so far everything seemed good.
Inola had on a lemon yellow colored Cleopatra styled wig, a white tube top and a mini denim skirt. She looked like a walking advertisement for a whore house. Especially because her makeup was overdone and caked up, but she looked nothing like her pictures on social media or anyone someone would recognize on the street to point out.
Her two kids were dressed casually in some jersey tees and jeans. Enrique was a little embarrassed by his mom's attire but he understood why sometimes she had to dress like that. It was to lose the bad guys.
Once parked in the hospital parking lot, French retrieved the wheelchair from the trunk and put Joshua in it. Inola came forward to push it and the four made their way inside the hospital. She went up to the reception desk and let Enrique do all the talking. It was faster that way.
"Hi we're here to visit my dad, Omari Steele." Enrique said.
The woman looked up and saw the group, the man was on his cellphone and the woman was just standing there not saying anything. A child was in a wheelchair but he wasn't facing her.
"My mom has a sore throat so she's trying not to talk." Enrique lied, knowing they might remember her as the missing deaf woman if he confessed she was deaf.
"Omari Steele has been moved to the third floor, room six hundred and three."
"Thank you." Enrique said.
They all piled onto the elevator and went to the sixth floor. Enrique practically ran off the elevator when the doors opened. He couldn't wait to see Omari, it was a big change from this crazy guy he was stuck with. Enrique couldn't wait to tell him all about French and the adventure they'd been on.
When the group entered the room, Enrique gasped. Omari was laying in the bed with all kinds of tubes and wires connected to him. He wasn't even moving.
They didn't even notice Omari's mother Phara in the room. Enrique got choked up instantly and flew to his mom for a hug. She knew it was a bad idea to bring him, but he really wanted to see Omari.
She hugged him back and massaged his head, trying to keep it together herself. Phara turned from the window and gasped when she saw them, Inola looked different, but that height and her sons couldn't fool her. She ran over and hugged them, causing all of them to start crying.
French was the only one in the room expressionless. He put people in this situation all the time, so it didn't bother him. He just watched Omari from the door, looking at the machines that were helping him breathe. He seemed to be in pretty bad shape judging by how many different things they had him on.
The other hospital bed was empty so it looked like he was the only patient in this room. The room was plain, standard small tv mounted onto the wall, one window and a teddy bear with a small flower pot on the eating table for him.
French looked at the time on his watch, already trying to figure what time he would end this little party. He stood by the door, because this wasn't his reunion to be part of.
"Honey where were you guys? I tried calling your cellphone a million times! You guys are all over the news! Oh my gosh, Joshua!" Phara said flying over to the disabled boy and raining kisses down on him. She then turned and grabbed Inola into a big hug, tears streaming down her face. "Does your mother know where you are? What happened?"
Enrique explained as best as he could about what happened at the diner. But when it came to French and who he was and why they couldn't come back into the public right now, he didn't speak on it not knowing what to say.
So of course Phara was still confused and heartbroken when they said they couldn't stay and only came to visit.
"What do you mean you can't stay? What about Omari?" Phara asked, her lips trembling.
Enrique translated the message to his mother and Inola signed back to her son. Once Enrique got the message from his mother, he said it out loud for Phara.
"I'm not leaving your son, ma. I love him with all my heart, but I just can't be here for a while. It's complicated right now and I can't explain, but just know I'll try to visit and call when I can."
Phara was weeping and didn't know what was going on, but she was just glad they were here right now. Inola told her they couldn't stay long, so Phara decided to wheel Joshua out the room and take Enrique with her for a walk down to the gift shop to give Inola a moment alone with Omari.
French stood by the door bored with his hands folded across his stomach and his head resting on the door frame, as he watched Inola by the man's bedside, crying and stroking his face. She was gently caressing his cheek and hugging him up as best as she could without touching or knocking any wires.
French watched blankly, almost like it was a tv show, when it dawned on him that they never practiced who he was to her, in case people asked.
Phara and the kids came back into the room with some more gifts for Omari and placed them on his table. French saw the old woman watching him, but he was ready to go anyway. It'd only been fifteen minutes, but they weren't even suppose to be out here in the first place.
"Tell Inola let's go." French said to her son, saying her name so it sounded more personal. It might've been the first time he said her name, he didn't even know.
Enrique told his mom what French said and Inola looked over at him, but she looked away. She continued to hover over Omari and talk to his mom. One minute turned to two and two to three, making French get irritated.
"Tell your mom I'm serious, we have to go." French told Enrique again.
"Go where? She's fine here with me, she can come back home with me." Phara said, frowning.
Phara was starting to realize something was amiss with the setup of Inola and this man. She did randomly go missing and now pop up looking completely unlike herself and saying she couldn't stay. To her it sounded like she was his hostage. Phara wanted her to know she was safe now and she didn't have to leave the hospital with him if she didn't want too. There was security guards here that could protect her until police came.
French looked over at Phara and thought about his own mom. He would never disrespect his elders, so he tried to be as nice as possible. "Ma'am that's true but she can't."
"And why not?"
"That respectfully is between her and I."
Phara pulled her head back. "Excuse me? My son, her fiancé is laying here in a hospital bed and you pop up with this woman and her kids to tell me after five minutes you have to go and it's not my business? She is the future wife of my son, she's not your business!"
Inola who was paying attention to Omari, didn't even notice they were arguing. But she looked up and felt a weird vibe in the room. She glanced at French and saw him looking at her irritatingly. Enrique felt kind of weird because of the arguing, he didn't know what to say so he told his mom that French wanted to go.
Inola really missed Omari, it was hard to come here and just leave so soon. She was feeling bold, so she told Enrique to tell French she wasn't ready to leave. He couldn't force her out in front of all these people so she knew there wasn't anything he could do.
Inola signed to Enrique. Tell him it's okay, just relax. I just want to spend some time with Omari. We'll leave soon.
Enrique told him what she said and the two met eyes but Inola quickly averted her attention. French was pissed, he stepped out of the room and stood outside the door. She was really pushing her boundaries with him and could be putting them in danger right now.
Time went by and before French knew it, they'd been in the hospital for three hours. He stepped back into the room and the look in his eyes let Inola know he wasn't playing.
Without him even saying anything, she stood up from the chair and hugged Phara. She grabbed her hands as Enrique spoke for her and told her they had to go. Of course Phara was disappointed and confused, but Inola tried to let her know she'd try to call every few days and check in and visit and could. This was if French kept buying her burner phones.
Grabbing Joshua's handles to his wheelchair, Inola began gathering their stuff to role him out the room. French walked out and left her and her kids to say their goodbyes as he walked down the hall toward the elevators.
It opened and he tried to step on and almost bumped into a man coming off. There were two men and they were clearly together. French immediately felt his blood run cold. He was great at handling his emotions outwardly, so his shock didn't show on his face. But right away he could tell these were men who worked for the Italian mafia.
They were both dressed down in suits, had jet black hair slicked down in gel. One was burly, kind of chubby and pale and the other had an olive tone with green eyes. He could tell they were henchmen. They were either looking for him or coming around to get information on him.
It wasn't out of the ordinary that they were in the hospital. Many of the victims from his mass shootings were in several hospitals across Los Angeles so the gunmen probably went to several different ones to see if they could find anything.
The chubby one he almost bumped into was chewing gum with his mouth open. French could tell they were real old school, the type that didn't associate with anybody outside their race.
"Sorry." He mumbled, stepping to the side to let them off.
The fat one didn't even look at him or say anything, while the olive tone one kind of studied him. French kept his cool and stepped onto the elevator. Inola came wheeling Joshua out the room with her other son by her side. French was holding the elevator doors opened as the henchmen were walking in her direction.
His heart was beating and his other hand was positioned behind his back in case he had to pull his gun out. She was dressed down in a yellow wig and looked like she was walking the hoe stroll, they probably wouldn't recognize her. But the kid in the wheelchair was a dead giveaway.
French knew Inola didn't even realize she was in danger. He watched as the men walked right past her and her kids as she finally made it onto the elevator. He hurriedly clicked the first floor and it seemed like it was taking forever for the doors to close.
He saw the men stop at the reception desk but the big guy did the talking while his partner just looked around. His eyes made it's way back to the elevator and he and the man stared at each other. French believed the man was starting to notice something was off with them.
Come on, He said to himself, wishing the doors would close already. He didn't dare make a move to try and close it, knowing it would be obvious he was trying to escape. Finally the doors closed and he released air out his nose, glaring at her.
"You can tell your mother those guys we just passed in the hallway are part of the organization that wants you guys dead. That's why when I said let's go we should've left." French told her son.
At first Enrique just stared, thinking he was just saying that to try and scare them. But when he saw how serious he seemed, he got scared and quickly relayed the message. Inola looked up at French now terrified, but he wasn't even paying attention to her. They stepped off the elevator and made a quick exit out to the now dark parking lot.
After loading Joshua in his seat and putting the wheelchair in the trunk, French pulled out. He took the long way back home, different routes, and taking cuts and turns, even wrapping around certain blocks twice just to make sure they weren't being followed.
Once they pulled into his estate, he pressed a button and the garage door went up into the air. He pulled in and the garage door came back down right as he turned the engine off. The trio got out but French startled Inola when he suddenly grabbed Enrique by his arm and began to drag him toward the door that led to the inside of the house.
"Get off of me!" Enrique shouted, using his free hand to beat against French's hand.
Inola ran up and started pulling her son too, scared of what was going on. French unlocked the door and picked the kid up, nearly tossing him inside the house before locking the door with the key again. Enrique began turning the knob and banging the door to get back inside the garage.
French's rage turned on Inola who's heart skipped a beat the minute his eyes landed on her. If that hair on her head was real he would've ripped it out her scalp.
He grabbed her neck and started backing her up, her heels making quick clicking noises. When her body hit a wall, his grip got so tight her hands flew to his to loosen it up but he wasn't budging. His other hand flew out from behind him making her flinch and close her eyes.
When she opened her eyes she saw his cold, dark brown eyes as he just held the notepad up for her to read. It was close to him, an indication that he didn't want her to respond, but only read what he wrote.
Don't ever do that again, when I say let's go it means let's go. We are not friends, I am not your buddy. You had me waiting on you for three hours like a fucking clown. I should've smacked the fuck out of you! You ever disrespect me like that again and I will. You made us run into people who potentially recognize us by now and want us dead! Don't you want to protect your kids? If I'm trying to help you, don't test me! Do you understand me?
Inola swallowed harshly and looked at him, nodding slowly.
French roughly let go of her and took the house keys out his pocket. He gave them to her to go unlock the door. He cut his eyes away from her and she scurried off while he dipped into the backseat to get Joshua. He put him over his shoulder like a towel and they went back inside, Enrique standing there glaring at him as he went straight up to their room and rested the boy down.
French came back down and left them in the living room, going into his basement, slamming the door.
I hate that guy, Enrique signed to her.
Inola honestly felt really guilty, she did do too much today and possibly put them in danger. And now he'd probably never take her to see Omari, again.
Are you hungry, baby? Inola asked, a little shaken up from how French just handled her. It was stupid of her, she had to remember she didn't know this man to test him like that.
No, just gonna shower and go to bed. He said. She felt the same way so she followed him up.
While he was in the shower she changed Joshua's clothes. He had ate before they left and he only ate during his assigned meal times. He wasn't due to eat until morning, so he was fine. Once Enrique came out she went in and showered and dressed in the bathroom.
The three cuddled with Joshua in the middle, laying on his back. All the lights in the room were off and they were watching tv. It was only a good half an hour later when Inola glanced at her son and realized he was fast asleep, already.
She slid out her bed to go get a glass of water to put on the nightstand. Sometimes she got very hot at night. She went downstairs and paused on the stairs midway when she saw French standing there in basketball shorts with no shirt. He was muscular and had a coat of sweat covering his body. He must've been working out in the basement.
He looked up when he heard the staircase creak, and looked away when he noticed it was just Inola. He pulled the gallon of water out of the fridge and got a glass cup from the dish washer. He inspected it to make sure it was clean because machines didn't always get the job done properly. But his dishwasher hadn't failed him yet. Seeing it was clean, he poured a full glass.
Inola continued to walk slowly toward the kitchen like a shy child who was watching other kids play. She knew he was really upset with that stunt she pulled at the hospital, but luckily he could've reacted way worst. She knew it was stupid of her to do something like that not knowing anything about how this man reacted when he was angry. She expected to get beat up, but he had a certain softness about him. Even when he was mad.
She wanted to ask if he had another cup for some water but forgot her notepad and pen upstairs. So instead she just pointed to the container of water. He had expensive taste. 10 Thousand BC. It was a brand of water that cost at least around $20 dollars. Inola read up on it once, something about it coming from the Hat Mountain Glacier area. It took a boat going out to the coast of Canada to collect it. She now remembered it was the water she's been drinking since she got here, but never noticed because it tasted like normal water.
French stared at her for a moment before looking away and retrieving another cup. He placed it down for her and poured her a glass. Inola took her cup and took a sip, but instead of going back to her room she just stood there. She wanted to apologize but she couldn't talk. She'd never try to, not in front of him.
Instead she made a motion for something to write with. French pulled out a draw right where he was and located an old sheet of paper and a permanent black marker. He slid it to her.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put us in danger or make you wait for three hours, it's just that I missed my family, everyone is worried about me. I felt happy for once since this whole thing started. It was hard to just leave when you wanted too. But I understand that safety is first and I won't do that again.
She wrote lightly so the marker wouldn't seep through the paper and get on the marble. French read her message and gave a simple head nod. It was quiet after that. Her just sipping and him throwing back his water and refilling it like shots.
After a moment he took the paper and marker himself. He really didn't care, but he noticed the sadness in her eyes, the trip to the hospital was bittersweet and he could tell going made part of her sad.
What happened to him? Your fiancé, I mean.
He figured it was some sort of heart condition or natural cause. French was surprised when he saw him, he expected him to be disabled or disfigured too. He knew it was ignorant and not all deaf people would be with deaf people or people with disabilities like them, but it was a stereotype he saw for her. Inola gave the paper back to him when she finished writing.
He had to pick it up and read it because she had written much smaller this time; the space on the paper was running out so she had to preserve space in case anyone of them wanted to say something else.
I don't know if you heard about the mass shooting a few weeks ago. Somebody opened fire on a random crowd in a business district and my fiancé was down there at the time. He was struck in his side with a bullet and it pierced one of his organs. But now police are saying it was some organized crime stuff going on and the killer had lost sight of his original target and just started shooting random people to get to his real victim. So all those people ended up getting injured in the process.
French gulped down the rest of his water and crunched on his ice. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. How was it that he was the one, responsible for her fiancé fighting for his life in a hospital bed? He was trying to save her life, but he had also single-handedly ruined life. He ruined many people's lives.
He put his glass cup in the sink and made a motion telling her he was going to bed. Inola just gave a small smile and nodded, watching him walk up the stairs. She wondered if she irritated him somehow. She finished her water too and slowly made her way back up.