Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Right Here ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Maria, Maria...And Shiv and Theresa discuss things...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 595 | Status: Completed
Maria, Maria...And Shiv and Theresa discuss things...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.6K | Visits: 595 | Status: Completed
Right Here
Chapter Eight
Virgil gave a long sigh as he stared up at the bronze monument of Andrew Jackson. They were making their last stop–Robert had grown too anxious to continue with the road trip, and had made the decision to return to Dakota by Thursday evening, instead. Sharon was busy taking pictures of the river nearby, which was coated with thick ice, deer grazing just beyond it. Virgil, over bundled in two pairs of jackets, a hooded sweater, a beanie with the ‘Thundercats’ logo and a pair of gloves, had finished using the nearby restrooms and had seen the monument, investigating with a curious expression. He looked down at the plaque underneath it, then gave a disapproving ‘tsk, tsk’. He had a second opinion about the word ‘hero’...
“I know what you did, man,” he said with a disapproving scowl, as if Jackson could hear him. “You don’t think we don’t know what you did?”
“Who are you talking to, Virgil?” Robert asked, overhearing his son. He’d been nearby, examining the road map for a shorter route back to Dakota. His son was nearing his height–which was rather difficult for him to realize as he was forced to face the fact that his innocent, seemingly carefree second-born was well into the trail of becoming a man...
He was a man–he’d grown up fast, but retained that childlike quality that drew people to him in droves. It always made Robert puff with pride whenever he heard or witnessed the public’s gratification toward his son, knowing that he was making such an impact on them.
He knew Virgil had been in a funk, lately–it had been part of the reason why he’d decided on a road trip. He himself knew the stress and mounting pressures of a job that demanded constant attention, no matter the hours or situation.
“He was a very bad man, dad,” Virgil said with an annoyed frown at the bronze memorial. “Seriously...why do people honor people that pretended to be heroes, when all they be doing was building their own rep, doin’ themselves some good?”
Robert blinked curiously behind his glasses, then looked up at the monument with a judging expression. “I suppose...beliefs change, Virgil. Back then, he was hero for his participation in matters involving the people...he stood out where others didn’t. Their version of the word ‘hero’ could be considered something very differently, today. With every generation that comes, new outlooks are discovered, and older ones questioned.”
Virgil wrinkled his nose, shaking his dreads. A lot had been weighing on his mind, lately; mainly, his hero duties as Static. He’d left the city for a break–and while he somewhat enjoyed not being out on the cold streets every night, taking down those that were performing bad things where people were hurt, he was missing the familiar activity. He’d grown attached to superheroism; it had became just as essential as breathing.
Everyone had their make in life; his was Static.
But lately, as jobs with high stress activities did, he’d begun behaving in ways he hadn’t considered, before. Gear had pointed out a few times that he was using too much force with the people they apprehended; he’d grown cynical; and with all the mounting frustrations the city was pouring onto their young backs, Static had heard himself questioning his worth. More than once had he questioned their roles.
“Yeah,” he muttered in answer to Robert, shuffling his thick soled shoes through the combined kitty litter/salt that dispersed the ice upon the sidewalk. “Well...the way things are going right now, it looks as if Static’s being questioned. It’s really gettin’ to me, dad. I mean...what am I s’pposed to do, some nights? We been only beatin’ on Bang Babies, but that got useless, cuz of the cure...there really ain’t any out there, anymore. An’ the only things we mess with, we’re in over our heads.”
“I dislike that you continue to perform the police’s work, Virgil,” Robert said quietly, giving his son a firm look. “I know you’ve been doing it–I know you’ve done more than your fair share with dealing with violence, drugs, men that are willing to sacrifice your life for their rep...it has made me more than uneasy that you and Richie deal with things you haven’t trained for. You’re---”
“Yeah...we kinda learn on the way...I mean, yeah, we did things, before. But that’s cuz we learned trial and error, I s’ppose...we broke up crackhouses, and deals, dad. Hell–I mean, heck–we’ve broken up a couple of prostitution rings and serial killings...on accident, but that ain’t the point. We still want to do this–I feel, personally, that it’s somethin’ I’m meant to do. Like you–workin’ with unprivileged youth! Mom, she worked the medical field–Sharon’s gonna be a counselor...our whole family was born to help others, an’ we all had our calling. Mine is being Static. I’m helping people, dad, but...there’s a point where I have to wonder if what I’m doin’ is good. People are making us out to be the bad guys...”
Robert chuckled, knowing what he was talking about. “People working in our field are quite familiar with your problem, son. We’re expected to know everything; to be able to produce desired results with magic...but the truth is, we cannot. While we may have the means, we may not have the right. While we have the right, we may not have the means...you are being held on a bigger pedestal than the rest of us...because you have powers that separate you from us normal humans. It’s depressing, it’s frustrating, and it’s something that all aid workers have to learn and understand...I would love to send you to a training seminar–you and Richie–just to get the knowledge needed for you two to realize that this happens....”
Virgil’s eyebrows lifted; his eyes shifted over to Sharon, who was delightedly taking more pictures of a fawn that was keeping up with its mother. He looked back up at Robert, frowning. “Do you think I’m doin’ okay, pops? I mean...with all the things happenin’, do you think I’m handling?”
“I personally think that you’re doing fine–on an exterior level,” Robert said, reaching out to sling an around his son’s shoulders. “But there is a deep level in which I think you’re being affected. You have to be, Virgil. No one works this field without feeling the repercussions of everything that you do. And it’s understandable, son. The one thing you need to remember is that you are human, too. You have feelings...you have needs...wants...and when someone pushes you too hard, you’re going to break. You just have to realize what that breaking point is, before you hurt yourself, or you go too far.”
“How would I?” Virgil asked, furrowing his brow. “I mean...Richie told me that I was a lil’ rough with this guy...but I was pissed. He had a gun–y’know how I am with guns...an’ he took his girl hostage, usin’ her to get us to back off. We took ‘em down, but...I admit, dad, that when I grabbed him, I wanted to sock his face in. Just cuz...just cuz he gave no regard to his girlfriend’s safety. It was all him. But...it just bothered me, cuz then–get this–the girl blames me for his reaction. Said that if we’d just kept on going, he wouldn’t have done that. Forced him to make decisions he wouldn’t have made. It was ungrateful, and it was...it was disappointing. It made me second guess myself. I went over that millions of times, an’ it was like–in the end, what did I do wrong? An’ things like that keep happenin’!”
“Son...” Robert’s lips thinned, and he stared down at his boy’s troubled face, feeling his chest knot with ache as he saw the confusion, the letdown, the weariness in Virgil’s face. He’d seen the same look in others that worked trauma fields; Child Abuse Professionals, Homeless Shelter Staff, Emergency Medical Techs, medical personnel...he knew what happened when a person who worked these fields and more straining professions reacted when they’d seen, dealt, felt too much. They ended up dispirited, exhausted, worn–questioning their own worth in the field they’d looked to join with such eager spirits.
Virgil, since he became a superhero, had been virtually carefree save for all the teenage insecurities and doubts that plagued many. But he’d grown tired, lately, of all that he’d seen and dealt with in the past few years as a superhero. It reflected in his life choices; he was suddenly more irritable with those around him, had trouble sleeping, complained of headaches and exhaustion–atop of his duties, he also had his ‘real’ life duties to attend to; school, girlfriend, best friend, future choices...
His son was steadily becoming overwhelmed by all these things, and it was taking its toll.
He hadn’t seen it, until now–he’d been preoccupied with his constant worry of his son’s role as Static and his own duties at the community center. It gave him a start. Worried him.
His mind quickly gathered the information he needed to somehow refer Virgil (with his ever present fungus, Richie) to someone trustworthy that they could talk to.
Commonly known as ‘burnout’ in the field of helping professionals, it was generally defined as emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that resulted from the stress of interpersonal contact. Virgil was only eighteen–yet he worked more hours, more contact than those working decades in their respective fields due to his role as Static. As a superhero, he saw more, interacted more with the violence and upsurge of common human associated disturbances.
How had this slipped past him? All aid workers were affected, but there were ways to identify and cope; to regroup and re-energize...it just mattered on the steps they could take to work this through.
He shook his head. “Son...I...would like to go over some things with you when we return to Dakota. I have some information that I want both you and Richie to look over and understand...but for right now...perhaps looking online for the information you need would better benefit you?”
Virgil blinked. “Huh?”
“Daddy, we ready to go, yet? Or does gas baby here need another stop?” Sharon asked, looking at her younger brother accusingly.
Virgil realized the sudden shift, and looked at her suspiciously. He wondered why Robert was shifting the subject when the topic was something Sharon could identify, with. Perhaps it was different when the counselor’s perspective was crowded with the overwhelming sense of protecting a family member, and their opinions grew biased. Something. “Did ya get it, razor lips?”
“Get what?”
“Oh, so you didn’t...that’s really disappointing of you...”
“Get what?” Sharon repeated.
“A life. HAH!”
Sharon rolled her eyes, and stomped off toward the Ford Escort. Virgil chuckled, and shook his head. Reaching up, he slung his arm companionably around his father’s shoulders–Robert stood at six foot four, but Virgil was definitely keeping up. He gave his father a wide grin as he noticed this, Robert wincing. The pair of them followed Sharon toward the vehicle that would take them back home to Dakota.
OooooooooooO
Shiv cautiously crept into the center, wincing upon the silence. It was near evening, and he could hear the faint sounds of voices beyond the hall, toward the back. He knew that Ebon was busy with things, visiting with various distributors today, but he had some news that Ebon wasn’t going to take very well.
He’d found out that Gear/Richie was missing from the rooftop–as well as all of his things. A quick inquiry here and there told him that no one knew what happened to him. He even took a small trip to his house–but that produced nothing as well. Richie hadn’t been there. He had no idea where else to look, so he staked out the insurance company that he’d found out a while ago that employed Sean Foley–he wasn’t sure what else to do. He made a few phone calls and found himself at a dead end. He figured Ebon wouldn’t mind–if Richie did turn up dead, then that was that. So Shiv bought a newspaper and looked at the obituaries, but found nothing on it.
After that, while he was returning, he’d overheard a few people talking about Ebon’s latest crime spree, and was dismayed to learn that Dakota’s police force were thinking of calling in the Federal Bureau of Investigations and the U.S. Department of Drug Administration to create a task force that would personally deal with the Bang Baby’s uprising and trouble making. That was big stuff. He thought they’d at least wait a couple more years–Ebon did cause a lot of trouble, but Shiv thought that there were other trouble makers out there that deserved more attention.
...somewhere...
He hadn’t seen any sign of Static–if the kid knew what had happened to his partner, Shiv had thought that he’d be on an avenging spree. But then again, he hadn’t seen him in over a week. No one had. Gear had been working on his own before the other night.
He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering violently as he shut the door tight behind him. He would wait until Ebon found him before reporting what he’d found out. On that note...
He headed up to the second level, and found his designated room. Collapsing onto the mattress, he eked out a tired sigh and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him for an undetermined amount of time, and he woke at hearing a whisper of sound at the doorway. He lifted his head in time to see Theresa sit down on his back with an annoyed snarl.
He grunted at her unexpected weight, her bony ass digging into his bony back.
“Where’d you go?” she demanded, bouncing on him, making him grunt again. “I told you I needed to talk to you!”
“Ebon sent me on a mission, mistress!”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, wrapping her fingers into his hair and jerking his head from side to side. Above his protests, she asked, “Did he say anything more?”
“I just got back.”
“That...that kid all right?”
“I dunno. He weren’t there when I got there.” Shiv shrugged as he pulled his head away from her grasp. “I dunno. And I called the hospital, but that mean ole bat on the other line said they don’t answer those kinds of things. That whoever went through that remains anonymous. Or whatever.”
“You actually called the hospital?” Theresa asked incredulously, bouncing once, making him grunt again. “What’d you say?”
“I just asked if some blond guy went in there. That he was raped. An’ then they got all snappy.”
“You didn’t say his name?”
“...No. Cuz...I didn’t want them suspicious, y’know, that it was me doin’ the calling.”
Theresa rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Shiv’s way of thinking made sense–other times, her brain knotted at the complexities involved. To save herself time and effort, she slapped his back, then dug her fingernails into the knots of his spine. He gave a screeching yelp, then bucked her off. Straightening, she stood over him as he rolled onto his back.
“What’chu got to do, tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just got back! I’m kinda hungry. Ebon hasn’t fed me, lately. I’ve had to fend for myself.”
She rolled her eyes to the pile of clothes that he had thrown in one corner of the room, and the two pairs of shoes. His winter clothing consisted of his Scooby Doo beanie and jacket–the rest was the same type of clothing that he wore all year. She knew that he had to get cold–he didn’t have that much body fat on him, and he was always outside. She gestured at him to get up. “Let’s go.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Out. I need a few things. Anything to get away from him, for awhile.”
“Ooh...I don’t want to do that.” Shiv hesitated as he rose, giving her a cautious stare. Theresa turned to look at him, blinking questionably.
“What?”
“I don’t...I don’t want to piss him off. I don’t want to do things that he didn’t approve of.”
Theresa stared at him in silence, her face screwing up with bewilderment. “Shiv! He’s always let us do our own thing, as long as we came back to him!”
“The way things are goin’, lately? Hell no. I ain’t even gonna shit unless he approves it!”
“Don’t be stupid! He ain’t goin’ to do anything to you!”
“How do you know? He’s been killing off the guys that he trusts. Like...like Timmy.”
“He killed Timmy?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No! When did he do that?”
“That night he went to see Manuelo...I don’t...no. He’s been doing that a lot, lately, an’ I don’t wanna ruin my chances. I mean, I know I ain’t nothin’ to him, but...he can kill me if he wanted to. I don’t wanna get killed. I know I do fucked up things, but I don’t wanna get killed.”
“He ain’t gonna kill you!” Theresa insisted. “He can’t do that to us! He can’t do that to any of us! We’re too valuable for him!”
Shiv shook his head furiously, purple hair slashing through the air. “I don’t wanna chance it. Uh-uh. I didn’t get this far in life just to fuck it up with stupid choices.”
Theresa lunged at him, shoving him hard across the room. Her anger rapidly took over as she snarled, “You stop being a pussy! You don’t get that way! Don’t get all wimpy! We didn’t come this far in life being pussies! You’re a man, Shiv! You fuckin’ man up and stop acting like a woman!”
“You’re a–”
“I’m not like the other women around here, Shiv! I had to be hard! I had to be this way, to get to where I am! Ebon ain’t gonna break me down! Fuck him! He can threaten me all he wants, and talk shit all he wants, but in the long run, he needs me just as much as he needs you and Kangorr. Cuz I can do what he asks. Cuz I know I can. I don’t want to see you breaking down because he did some kid, and killed some guy! You killed guys, Shiv! Why you let Ebon do this?”
“I–I don’t know. He’s scary. He’s totally scary. Especially now that he can do anything. I mean...he does stuff with his powers that I didn’t see him do before...he’s invincible!”
“He ain’t invincible, Shiv, you fucking idiot. He can be killed. He has weaknesses. He ain’t no fuckin’ God,” Theresa snarled softly. “You can kill him, Shiv. When he’s not looking. You can kill him with those things you do...”
Shiv shook his head rapidly again, his face screwing up with desperation. She reached out and socked his chest with one tiny fist.
“Don’t be scared of him! You be strong! I need you to be strong...Ebon has a lot of people ‘fraid of him, but you shouldn’t be one of them. Once he smells fear, he’s on ya, like a motherfuckin’ dog. Don’t let him smell that, Shiv, or else he’s gonna latch onto you. He might even pull that same crap he did on that kid to you–”
“NO! No, no, no, no, no!”
Theresa jumped back at the vehemence of Shiv’s shouts, the way his face grew red and his neck stretched with the force. “It bothers you that much? You think he might do that to you?”
“It’s disgusting! Men aren’t s’pposed to do that to each other! Men aren’t supposed to! It ain’t right! No man should stick their dick up some guy’s ass! No! No! No! It’s not right! NO!”
“Calm down, man–”
“It’s not right, it’s not right, it’s not right! I don’t like it! I don’t like it! I don’t LIKE IT!”
“Shut the fuck up, Shiv–!”
“It’s not s’pposed to be that way! It’s not s’pposed to BE THAT WAY! MEN AREN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TO EACH OTHER!”
“Shut the fuck up–!”
“It’s WRONG! It’s WRONG! It’s only s’pposed to be women! Women are the only ones that are s’pposed to be raped! That’s how it goes! The weaker sex! It’s only s’pposed to be the weaker sex!”
Theresa lunged at him once more, and forced her hands over his mouth, looking over her shoulder. It was then Shiv realized that footsteps were rapidly coming up the stairway, toward his door, and he swallowed thickly as Theresa pulled away from him, both of them stiff with half held terror. They watched the doorway as Ebon poked his head around the doorframe with a curious expression.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” he asked, walking in. “What’s being discussed without my approval?”
He was merely joking–but Theresa caught the sharp jab of an elbow into her back. She had to wince.
“Shiv was freaking out over stupid shit,” she muttered, reaching back to rub at the spot. “I was trying to get him to shut up.”
“Shiv?”
“I...am craving...French toast?”
“IHOP?” Ebon perked noticeably. “I been wantin’ waffles, myself. Wanna head out?”
“Sure!” Shiv cried enthusiastically.
Ebon looked at Theresa. “You too?”
Sullenly, she dropped her hand from her back. Then shrugged a shoulder. “Sure...why not?”
“Let’s roll, then. Ain’t got all damn night.”
It was sometimes easy to forget that Ebon was a monster. At times like these, Theresa often wondered if the man hid mental disfigurements. She and Shiv looked at each other, each one exchanging troubled glances.
OooooooooooO
Maria Gonzales flicked her dark hair from her face as she walked up the sidewalk. It was nearly seven in the evening–and she had waited for this particular time to visit, knowing fully what the plans were for her boys. ‘Her boys’ meaning Hotstreak and his friends. She hung around them constantly, and for one reason only–she didn’t hide her feelings nor her intentions when she was with him.
She didn’t knock as she walked into the house, hearing the exclamations and exalted shouts coming from the den downstairs.
There was at least ten gangbangers gathered there, and a bunch of trash bags placed atop of the cheap coffee table. She knew they contained some sort of drug.
Hotstreak and his friends had learned of a drop-off from an outside source from Philadelphia, the shipment supposedly going to one of Ebon’s major drug distributers. They had planned to intercept the shipment of drugs and money–and apparently, it had gone as planned.
She located Hotstreak as he talked with a couple of guys, holding a wrapped package of finely packed weed, the two guys talking excitedly as they counted rolled bills of money. The sweet, heavy smell grew stronger as she neared him, several other packages catching her eye.
“Hey....hey!” she shouted to be heard, drawing attention her way. She was instantly treated to the sights of hungry stares in her direction, and flicked her hair from her face as she grinned at them. “Successful?”
“More than! Wanna celebrate with me, baby?” one of them asked her, grinning as he motioned for her to sit on his lap.
She looked away from him, at Hotstreak–who ignored her as he continued talking. She frowned, and pushed her way through the group, all the boys staring at her with a mixture of hunger and desperation.
Her Latina features were quite obvious in both her voice and her looks. She wasn’t the image of perfection depicted in magazines–and that’s what made her attainable.
She reached Hotstreak’s side, and gave him a pouty frown as he described what he planned on doing next, obviously ignoring her. She looked over at the two that were giving their opinions, and then down at the stash of cash that was set between them. She knew that it would be distributed throughout Dakota–paying off more informants against Ebon, acquiring more drugs, producing payment for key players in Hotstreak’s plan against Ebon. She wasn’t exactly clear where it all went–but it was a good pay-off for their attack, today.
She looped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a kiss on the cheek, her lips lingering long enough to leave traces of her lip gloss. He lurched away from her with an annoyed groan, shrugging off her arm. He wiped his face with an irritated glance in her direction.
“Quit clinging on me!” he whined, digging out his box of cigarettes.
She shoved him. “You don’t talk to me that way, fucker. How was your day?”
“Good. Lookit this shit. This is what I mean by ‘business’. Hah! How much is it?”
“Over a hundred grand, man,” one of the boys announced, counting a roll, then marking it down on a scrap of paper. He grinned at Maria. “Wanna go out on a date?”
“Sucka, you’re just a boy,” she scoffed. “I need a man.”
At this, she once again looped an arm around Hotstreak’s shoulders, snuggling into him. He didn’t push her away–merely lit his cig and called for another guy across the room. She was used to his ignoring her at these times–hell, most of the time–and she was persistent. One day, he’d see it her way. She just had to work on it.
Her mother didn’t raise a daughter that faltered at the first sign of rejection.
Besides, if he wasn’t attracted to her, or liked her–he knew how to get rid of girls. He hadn’t taken the usual route to get rid of her. And the one that he did, she figured she could accept–after all, she was convinced that the ‘thing’ he had with Richie was something of an experiment...something that the first wife would just have to accept. She figured she could handle a mistress–even if that ‘mistress’ had the same equipment as he. If it made him happy, who was she to dictate otherwise...? Husbands made their decisions, and wives had to deal with it. That was how she was taught, how her family was raised.
It was embarrassing to think about–so she didn’t do it, too much...
“Take this,” Hotstreak said, pressing a few rolls of bills into the guy’s hand. “Get that stuff we talked about. This should cover it.”
“Fuckin’ A, man! I’ll call ya when I get it!”
Maria watched the guy take off, dragging three other guys with him.
“What’s that goin’ for?” she asked curiously, wrapping her arms around one of his, enjoying the feel of muscle. He’d lost some weight over the past few months–but his shoulders and arms were still broad, firm with muscle. She enjoyed touching him. She hadn’t been able to when she was a Bang Baby–she figured she was just making up time by constantly hanging all over him.
“Supplies,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“What kinda supplies?” she asked curiously, pressing her nose against his ear.
“Good ones. Get off me.”
“Stop telling me that!” she whined, but let go of him. “You still got my cell? You realize that I only let you take it cuz I thought I’d get it back the next day!”
“Nah...I left it back at the room.”
“Let’s go get it. I want it back!”
“Ain’t like no one calls you! They always ask for me, anyway...”
“That’s because you’re giving fuckers my number and sayin’ it’s yours!” she exclaimed. “God! I want my phone back!”
“I want my phone back, I want my phone back,” he mimicked her in a high falsetto, completed with fake Spanish accent. She scowled prettily at him.
“Stop it. God, you piss me off...”
“Then why you still here?”
“Shut up.”
He grinned at her, then returned his attention back to the other two. They briefly haggled and argued over selling prices. When he finished, Maria rolled her eyes and leaned onto Hotstreak’s shoulder. “Why you ain’t ever go to school? You coulda been one of those business guys that get all rich and shit. Like that Trump guy.”
“Fuck that bullshit. Here...hey, did anyone get that guy’s number? For the one in San Antonio?” Hotstreak then bellowed, looking questionably at the others. Maria took one of the rolls of money he was holding, impressed at the size. He took it back from her with an annoyed scowl, and when she tried to kiss him, he ducked.
“Nah! We still workin’ on that!” someone shouted.
“No big...we’re covered here, for like, a week. Count off everyone’s cut, man.” Hotstreak then looked back at her. “What are you doing here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go eat, baby. I’m starving.”
“Your ass is too big. You need to starve that shit off.”
“FUCK YOU. God, you’re such a fucking dick!”
He swatted her mentioned anatomy playfully, and ducked the answering swipe. Rising from his seat, he finished off his cigarette, then toed one of the black bags.
“What’s in here?”
“Fifty kilos of meth,” one of the guys from the couch answered, nodding eagerly.
“...Take that to Smith, down in the valley. Those crackheads over there will eat that shit up. Sell it fifty bucks a pop. Why they makin’ cheap shit, nowadays, anyway? Nevermind. It’ll sell...”
“Just ‘fifty’? Dude, you can get at least a hundred and fifty for this shit!”
“No, lower the price, so fuckers can afford it. Man, you dumb dick. Think about it! Who’s buyin’ the shit?”
“Uh...”
“Exactly. No, sell it eighty a pop. That way, once word gets out that peoples could afford it, they’ll be comin’ back here to git s’more...Then we think about raising the prices.”
“Whatever, man.”
“Hey, Stone! Phone call!” someone shouted from the bottom of the stairs, carrying a portable phone. Maria did not miss the hurried rush for the phone. As he answered, he noticeably slumped and looked annoyed as he walked up the stairway. With a glance around, she then followed him.
Maria walked into the kitchen, eyeing the counter top with disgust as she listened to Hotstreak’s conversation. Girls wanted the boys in power, in control–and Hotstreak was one of those boys. He wasn’t the most attractive, she had to admit–he had too cocky of an attitude, a scary temper, and he often looked sullen as a child whenever he was in a bad mood.
His physical appearance was common trailer trash–another white boy acting black was the most common trash talk that she’d heard about him. She looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow as she took in the furrowed eyebrows, the squinty dark eyes, the hawkish nose, the goatee turned soul patch, and curved, cocky lips. Nah, if he were simply someone on the street that she passed by, she would definitely not give him a second glance.
He threw the phone across the room, roaring about bitches, then looked at her.
“C’mon,” he said, gesturing at her. “I’ll let you buy me something to eat.”
“I ain’t buying you shit!” she declared, following after him as he gathered his sweater, coat and hat from the nearby couch. “You’re supposed to be treating me!”
“I’m the man, here. You treat me the way a woman’s s’pposed to.”
She kicked at him, and he nimbly jumped out of the way, laughing. “Motherfucker, you respect me.”
“Without your powers, Maria, yer nothin’ but another bitch...”
She picked up a nearby cup and flung it at him. He ducked and laughed again, hurrying out the door as she followed. She was a little miffed that he brought that up–as Aqua Maria, she had the power to bring him to his knees with her control over water. Now that she was normal, she didn’t have that much control over him. Which was exasperating.
Outside, they headed over to his car, which he’d retrieved earlier.
“Damn,” he muttered as he checked the time on the dash. It was nearly eight, and he didn’t allow the car to warm up as she swept into the passenger side seat, pulling on her seat belt. The engine protested as it was revved once, the entire car shuddering as it lurched from the curb. “I gotta get shit done. Then I gotta jam.”
“What’cha doing?” she asked curiously, her head hitting the back of the seat as he gunned it. She reached out and punched his arm. “And slow the fuck down! There’s ice on the road!”
“I got things to do. Where you wanna eat at? You need tofu? Speed? Something that ain’t gonna go straight to your ass, that’s for sure...”
“Fuck you! Let’s go to El Asad’s...I’m craving some good enchiladas...”
“That takes too long. Taco Bell?”
“Ooh, you just did not go there! You asked me where I wanted to eat! I want El Asad’s!”
“How about Ricky’s? That’s closer...”
“Where you off to in such a rush?” she demanded, glaring at him. Her eyes took on a venomous expression as the latest string of girls that he’d claimed he’d scored with came to mind. It made her fingers curl into tight fists as she wondered why he kept looking over her. “Gotta bitch waitin’ for you?”
“Yeah...” He looked at her, waggling his eyebrows again as he shot through a red light. Outraged horns followed them. “S’matter of fact. Jealous?”
“...Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
“Dick.”
“Proud of it. Hey...you seen Theresa, lately?”
“I’m s’pposed to meet her tomorrow morning for church.”
“They have church during the week?”
She rolled her eyes as he stopped at an intersection. “Church don’t stop for nobody.”
“I ain’t up in that religious bullshit...”
“God makes things happen, honey. God will help those that need Him...He be the one that makes things happen for reasons.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“My faith in Jesus Christ helped me get to where I am today–”
At this, he gave a bark of laughter, and sent her head hitting the seat once again. She immediately reached out to pinch his forearm. “OW!”
“You don’t disrespect Him! He did! He helped me get to where I am! My momma believes in Him, and we both pray every day for good fortune. True, some things aren’t what we want it to be, but He always gets us what we need.”
“Whatever...don’t preach to me.”
“Faith helps the lost get through the darkness...maybe you should sit in on it, one day.”
“Fuck that,” he muttered, shaking his head. They pulled into El Asad’s, and Maria gave him a beaming smile. He looked at her as they screeched to a stop. “Yer still payin’. Get that God given money out an’ buy me stuff.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, then left the car in a huff as he smirked.
Chapter Eight
Virgil gave a long sigh as he stared up at the bronze monument of Andrew Jackson. They were making their last stop–Robert had grown too anxious to continue with the road trip, and had made the decision to return to Dakota by Thursday evening, instead. Sharon was busy taking pictures of the river nearby, which was coated with thick ice, deer grazing just beyond it. Virgil, over bundled in two pairs of jackets, a hooded sweater, a beanie with the ‘Thundercats’ logo and a pair of gloves, had finished using the nearby restrooms and had seen the monument, investigating with a curious expression. He looked down at the plaque underneath it, then gave a disapproving ‘tsk, tsk’. He had a second opinion about the word ‘hero’...
“I know what you did, man,” he said with a disapproving scowl, as if Jackson could hear him. “You don’t think we don’t know what you did?”
“Who are you talking to, Virgil?” Robert asked, overhearing his son. He’d been nearby, examining the road map for a shorter route back to Dakota. His son was nearing his height–which was rather difficult for him to realize as he was forced to face the fact that his innocent, seemingly carefree second-born was well into the trail of becoming a man...
He was a man–he’d grown up fast, but retained that childlike quality that drew people to him in droves. It always made Robert puff with pride whenever he heard or witnessed the public’s gratification toward his son, knowing that he was making such an impact on them.
He knew Virgil had been in a funk, lately–it had been part of the reason why he’d decided on a road trip. He himself knew the stress and mounting pressures of a job that demanded constant attention, no matter the hours or situation.
“He was a very bad man, dad,” Virgil said with an annoyed frown at the bronze memorial. “Seriously...why do people honor people that pretended to be heroes, when all they be doing was building their own rep, doin’ themselves some good?”
Robert blinked curiously behind his glasses, then looked up at the monument with a judging expression. “I suppose...beliefs change, Virgil. Back then, he was hero for his participation in matters involving the people...he stood out where others didn’t. Their version of the word ‘hero’ could be considered something very differently, today. With every generation that comes, new outlooks are discovered, and older ones questioned.”
Virgil wrinkled his nose, shaking his dreads. A lot had been weighing on his mind, lately; mainly, his hero duties as Static. He’d left the city for a break–and while he somewhat enjoyed not being out on the cold streets every night, taking down those that were performing bad things where people were hurt, he was missing the familiar activity. He’d grown attached to superheroism; it had became just as essential as breathing.
Everyone had their make in life; his was Static.
But lately, as jobs with high stress activities did, he’d begun behaving in ways he hadn’t considered, before. Gear had pointed out a few times that he was using too much force with the people they apprehended; he’d grown cynical; and with all the mounting frustrations the city was pouring onto their young backs, Static had heard himself questioning his worth. More than once had he questioned their roles.
“Yeah,” he muttered in answer to Robert, shuffling his thick soled shoes through the combined kitty litter/salt that dispersed the ice upon the sidewalk. “Well...the way things are going right now, it looks as if Static’s being questioned. It’s really gettin’ to me, dad. I mean...what am I s’pposed to do, some nights? We been only beatin’ on Bang Babies, but that got useless, cuz of the cure...there really ain’t any out there, anymore. An’ the only things we mess with, we’re in over our heads.”
“I dislike that you continue to perform the police’s work, Virgil,” Robert said quietly, giving his son a firm look. “I know you’ve been doing it–I know you’ve done more than your fair share with dealing with violence, drugs, men that are willing to sacrifice your life for their rep...it has made me more than uneasy that you and Richie deal with things you haven’t trained for. You’re---”
“Yeah...we kinda learn on the way...I mean, yeah, we did things, before. But that’s cuz we learned trial and error, I s’ppose...we broke up crackhouses, and deals, dad. Hell–I mean, heck–we’ve broken up a couple of prostitution rings and serial killings...on accident, but that ain’t the point. We still want to do this–I feel, personally, that it’s somethin’ I’m meant to do. Like you–workin’ with unprivileged youth! Mom, she worked the medical field–Sharon’s gonna be a counselor...our whole family was born to help others, an’ we all had our calling. Mine is being Static. I’m helping people, dad, but...there’s a point where I have to wonder if what I’m doin’ is good. People are making us out to be the bad guys...”
Robert chuckled, knowing what he was talking about. “People working in our field are quite familiar with your problem, son. We’re expected to know everything; to be able to produce desired results with magic...but the truth is, we cannot. While we may have the means, we may not have the right. While we have the right, we may not have the means...you are being held on a bigger pedestal than the rest of us...because you have powers that separate you from us normal humans. It’s depressing, it’s frustrating, and it’s something that all aid workers have to learn and understand...I would love to send you to a training seminar–you and Richie–just to get the knowledge needed for you two to realize that this happens....”
Virgil’s eyebrows lifted; his eyes shifted over to Sharon, who was delightedly taking more pictures of a fawn that was keeping up with its mother. He looked back up at Robert, frowning. “Do you think I’m doin’ okay, pops? I mean...with all the things happenin’, do you think I’m handling?”
“I personally think that you’re doing fine–on an exterior level,” Robert said, reaching out to sling an around his son’s shoulders. “But there is a deep level in which I think you’re being affected. You have to be, Virgil. No one works this field without feeling the repercussions of everything that you do. And it’s understandable, son. The one thing you need to remember is that you are human, too. You have feelings...you have needs...wants...and when someone pushes you too hard, you’re going to break. You just have to realize what that breaking point is, before you hurt yourself, or you go too far.”
“How would I?” Virgil asked, furrowing his brow. “I mean...Richie told me that I was a lil’ rough with this guy...but I was pissed. He had a gun–y’know how I am with guns...an’ he took his girl hostage, usin’ her to get us to back off. We took ‘em down, but...I admit, dad, that when I grabbed him, I wanted to sock his face in. Just cuz...just cuz he gave no regard to his girlfriend’s safety. It was all him. But...it just bothered me, cuz then–get this–the girl blames me for his reaction. Said that if we’d just kept on going, he wouldn’t have done that. Forced him to make decisions he wouldn’t have made. It was ungrateful, and it was...it was disappointing. It made me second guess myself. I went over that millions of times, an’ it was like–in the end, what did I do wrong? An’ things like that keep happenin’!”
“Son...” Robert’s lips thinned, and he stared down at his boy’s troubled face, feeling his chest knot with ache as he saw the confusion, the letdown, the weariness in Virgil’s face. He’d seen the same look in others that worked trauma fields; Child Abuse Professionals, Homeless Shelter Staff, Emergency Medical Techs, medical personnel...he knew what happened when a person who worked these fields and more straining professions reacted when they’d seen, dealt, felt too much. They ended up dispirited, exhausted, worn–questioning their own worth in the field they’d looked to join with such eager spirits.
Virgil, since he became a superhero, had been virtually carefree save for all the teenage insecurities and doubts that plagued many. But he’d grown tired, lately, of all that he’d seen and dealt with in the past few years as a superhero. It reflected in his life choices; he was suddenly more irritable with those around him, had trouble sleeping, complained of headaches and exhaustion–atop of his duties, he also had his ‘real’ life duties to attend to; school, girlfriend, best friend, future choices...
His son was steadily becoming overwhelmed by all these things, and it was taking its toll.
He hadn’t seen it, until now–he’d been preoccupied with his constant worry of his son’s role as Static and his own duties at the community center. It gave him a start. Worried him.
His mind quickly gathered the information he needed to somehow refer Virgil (with his ever present fungus, Richie) to someone trustworthy that they could talk to.
Commonly known as ‘burnout’ in the field of helping professionals, it was generally defined as emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that resulted from the stress of interpersonal contact. Virgil was only eighteen–yet he worked more hours, more contact than those working decades in their respective fields due to his role as Static. As a superhero, he saw more, interacted more with the violence and upsurge of common human associated disturbances.
How had this slipped past him? All aid workers were affected, but there were ways to identify and cope; to regroup and re-energize...it just mattered on the steps they could take to work this through.
He shook his head. “Son...I...would like to go over some things with you when we return to Dakota. I have some information that I want both you and Richie to look over and understand...but for right now...perhaps looking online for the information you need would better benefit you?”
Virgil blinked. “Huh?”
“Daddy, we ready to go, yet? Or does gas baby here need another stop?” Sharon asked, looking at her younger brother accusingly.
Virgil realized the sudden shift, and looked at her suspiciously. He wondered why Robert was shifting the subject when the topic was something Sharon could identify, with. Perhaps it was different when the counselor’s perspective was crowded with the overwhelming sense of protecting a family member, and their opinions grew biased. Something. “Did ya get it, razor lips?”
“Get what?”
“Oh, so you didn’t...that’s really disappointing of you...”
“Get what?” Sharon repeated.
“A life. HAH!”
Sharon rolled her eyes, and stomped off toward the Ford Escort. Virgil chuckled, and shook his head. Reaching up, he slung his arm companionably around his father’s shoulders–Robert stood at six foot four, but Virgil was definitely keeping up. He gave his father a wide grin as he noticed this, Robert wincing. The pair of them followed Sharon toward the vehicle that would take them back home to Dakota.
OooooooooooO
Shiv cautiously crept into the center, wincing upon the silence. It was near evening, and he could hear the faint sounds of voices beyond the hall, toward the back. He knew that Ebon was busy with things, visiting with various distributors today, but he had some news that Ebon wasn’t going to take very well.
He’d found out that Gear/Richie was missing from the rooftop–as well as all of his things. A quick inquiry here and there told him that no one knew what happened to him. He even took a small trip to his house–but that produced nothing as well. Richie hadn’t been there. He had no idea where else to look, so he staked out the insurance company that he’d found out a while ago that employed Sean Foley–he wasn’t sure what else to do. He made a few phone calls and found himself at a dead end. He figured Ebon wouldn’t mind–if Richie did turn up dead, then that was that. So Shiv bought a newspaper and looked at the obituaries, but found nothing on it.
After that, while he was returning, he’d overheard a few people talking about Ebon’s latest crime spree, and was dismayed to learn that Dakota’s police force were thinking of calling in the Federal Bureau of Investigations and the U.S. Department of Drug Administration to create a task force that would personally deal with the Bang Baby’s uprising and trouble making. That was big stuff. He thought they’d at least wait a couple more years–Ebon did cause a lot of trouble, but Shiv thought that there were other trouble makers out there that deserved more attention.
...somewhere...
He hadn’t seen any sign of Static–if the kid knew what had happened to his partner, Shiv had thought that he’d be on an avenging spree. But then again, he hadn’t seen him in over a week. No one had. Gear had been working on his own before the other night.
He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering violently as he shut the door tight behind him. He would wait until Ebon found him before reporting what he’d found out. On that note...
He headed up to the second level, and found his designated room. Collapsing onto the mattress, he eked out a tired sigh and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him for an undetermined amount of time, and he woke at hearing a whisper of sound at the doorway. He lifted his head in time to see Theresa sit down on his back with an annoyed snarl.
He grunted at her unexpected weight, her bony ass digging into his bony back.
“Where’d you go?” she demanded, bouncing on him, making him grunt again. “I told you I needed to talk to you!”
“Ebon sent me on a mission, mistress!”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, wrapping her fingers into his hair and jerking his head from side to side. Above his protests, she asked, “Did he say anything more?”
“I just got back.”
“That...that kid all right?”
“I dunno. He weren’t there when I got there.” Shiv shrugged as he pulled his head away from her grasp. “I dunno. And I called the hospital, but that mean ole bat on the other line said they don’t answer those kinds of things. That whoever went through that remains anonymous. Or whatever.”
“You actually called the hospital?” Theresa asked incredulously, bouncing once, making him grunt again. “What’d you say?”
“I just asked if some blond guy went in there. That he was raped. An’ then they got all snappy.”
“You didn’t say his name?”
“...No. Cuz...I didn’t want them suspicious, y’know, that it was me doin’ the calling.”
Theresa rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Shiv’s way of thinking made sense–other times, her brain knotted at the complexities involved. To save herself time and effort, she slapped his back, then dug her fingernails into the knots of his spine. He gave a screeching yelp, then bucked her off. Straightening, she stood over him as he rolled onto his back.
“What’chu got to do, tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just got back! I’m kinda hungry. Ebon hasn’t fed me, lately. I’ve had to fend for myself.”
She rolled her eyes to the pile of clothes that he had thrown in one corner of the room, and the two pairs of shoes. His winter clothing consisted of his Scooby Doo beanie and jacket–the rest was the same type of clothing that he wore all year. She knew that he had to get cold–he didn’t have that much body fat on him, and he was always outside. She gestured at him to get up. “Let’s go.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Out. I need a few things. Anything to get away from him, for awhile.”
“Ooh...I don’t want to do that.” Shiv hesitated as he rose, giving her a cautious stare. Theresa turned to look at him, blinking questionably.
“What?”
“I don’t...I don’t want to piss him off. I don’t want to do things that he didn’t approve of.”
Theresa stared at him in silence, her face screwing up with bewilderment. “Shiv! He’s always let us do our own thing, as long as we came back to him!”
“The way things are goin’, lately? Hell no. I ain’t even gonna shit unless he approves it!”
“Don’t be stupid! He ain’t goin’ to do anything to you!”
“How do you know? He’s been killing off the guys that he trusts. Like...like Timmy.”
“He killed Timmy?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No! When did he do that?”
“That night he went to see Manuelo...I don’t...no. He’s been doing that a lot, lately, an’ I don’t wanna ruin my chances. I mean, I know I ain’t nothin’ to him, but...he can kill me if he wanted to. I don’t wanna get killed. I know I do fucked up things, but I don’t wanna get killed.”
“He ain’t gonna kill you!” Theresa insisted. “He can’t do that to us! He can’t do that to any of us! We’re too valuable for him!”
Shiv shook his head furiously, purple hair slashing through the air. “I don’t wanna chance it. Uh-uh. I didn’t get this far in life just to fuck it up with stupid choices.”
Theresa lunged at him, shoving him hard across the room. Her anger rapidly took over as she snarled, “You stop being a pussy! You don’t get that way! Don’t get all wimpy! We didn’t come this far in life being pussies! You’re a man, Shiv! You fuckin’ man up and stop acting like a woman!”
“You’re a–”
“I’m not like the other women around here, Shiv! I had to be hard! I had to be this way, to get to where I am! Ebon ain’t gonna break me down! Fuck him! He can threaten me all he wants, and talk shit all he wants, but in the long run, he needs me just as much as he needs you and Kangorr. Cuz I can do what he asks. Cuz I know I can. I don’t want to see you breaking down because he did some kid, and killed some guy! You killed guys, Shiv! Why you let Ebon do this?”
“I–I don’t know. He’s scary. He’s totally scary. Especially now that he can do anything. I mean...he does stuff with his powers that I didn’t see him do before...he’s invincible!”
“He ain’t invincible, Shiv, you fucking idiot. He can be killed. He has weaknesses. He ain’t no fuckin’ God,” Theresa snarled softly. “You can kill him, Shiv. When he’s not looking. You can kill him with those things you do...”
Shiv shook his head rapidly again, his face screwing up with desperation. She reached out and socked his chest with one tiny fist.
“Don’t be scared of him! You be strong! I need you to be strong...Ebon has a lot of people ‘fraid of him, but you shouldn’t be one of them. Once he smells fear, he’s on ya, like a motherfuckin’ dog. Don’t let him smell that, Shiv, or else he’s gonna latch onto you. He might even pull that same crap he did on that kid to you–”
“NO! No, no, no, no, no!”
Theresa jumped back at the vehemence of Shiv’s shouts, the way his face grew red and his neck stretched with the force. “It bothers you that much? You think he might do that to you?”
“It’s disgusting! Men aren’t s’pposed to do that to each other! Men aren’t supposed to! It ain’t right! No man should stick their dick up some guy’s ass! No! No! No! It’s not right! NO!”
“Calm down, man–”
“It’s not right, it’s not right, it’s not right! I don’t like it! I don’t like it! I don’t LIKE IT!”
“Shut the fuck up, Shiv–!”
“It’s not s’pposed to be that way! It’s not s’pposed to BE THAT WAY! MEN AREN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TO EACH OTHER!”
“Shut the fuck up–!”
“It’s WRONG! It’s WRONG! It’s only s’pposed to be women! Women are the only ones that are s’pposed to be raped! That’s how it goes! The weaker sex! It’s only s’pposed to be the weaker sex!”
Theresa lunged at him once more, and forced her hands over his mouth, looking over her shoulder. It was then Shiv realized that footsteps were rapidly coming up the stairway, toward his door, and he swallowed thickly as Theresa pulled away from him, both of them stiff with half held terror. They watched the doorway as Ebon poked his head around the doorframe with a curious expression.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” he asked, walking in. “What’s being discussed without my approval?”
He was merely joking–but Theresa caught the sharp jab of an elbow into her back. She had to wince.
“Shiv was freaking out over stupid shit,” she muttered, reaching back to rub at the spot. “I was trying to get him to shut up.”
“Shiv?”
“I...am craving...French toast?”
“IHOP?” Ebon perked noticeably. “I been wantin’ waffles, myself. Wanna head out?”
“Sure!” Shiv cried enthusiastically.
Ebon looked at Theresa. “You too?”
Sullenly, she dropped her hand from her back. Then shrugged a shoulder. “Sure...why not?”
“Let’s roll, then. Ain’t got all damn night.”
It was sometimes easy to forget that Ebon was a monster. At times like these, Theresa often wondered if the man hid mental disfigurements. She and Shiv looked at each other, each one exchanging troubled glances.
OooooooooooO
Maria Gonzales flicked her dark hair from her face as she walked up the sidewalk. It was nearly seven in the evening–and she had waited for this particular time to visit, knowing fully what the plans were for her boys. ‘Her boys’ meaning Hotstreak and his friends. She hung around them constantly, and for one reason only–she didn’t hide her feelings nor her intentions when she was with him.
She didn’t knock as she walked into the house, hearing the exclamations and exalted shouts coming from the den downstairs.
There was at least ten gangbangers gathered there, and a bunch of trash bags placed atop of the cheap coffee table. She knew they contained some sort of drug.
Hotstreak and his friends had learned of a drop-off from an outside source from Philadelphia, the shipment supposedly going to one of Ebon’s major drug distributers. They had planned to intercept the shipment of drugs and money–and apparently, it had gone as planned.
She located Hotstreak as he talked with a couple of guys, holding a wrapped package of finely packed weed, the two guys talking excitedly as they counted rolled bills of money. The sweet, heavy smell grew stronger as she neared him, several other packages catching her eye.
“Hey....hey!” she shouted to be heard, drawing attention her way. She was instantly treated to the sights of hungry stares in her direction, and flicked her hair from her face as she grinned at them. “Successful?”
“More than! Wanna celebrate with me, baby?” one of them asked her, grinning as he motioned for her to sit on his lap.
She looked away from him, at Hotstreak–who ignored her as he continued talking. She frowned, and pushed her way through the group, all the boys staring at her with a mixture of hunger and desperation.
Her Latina features were quite obvious in both her voice and her looks. She wasn’t the image of perfection depicted in magazines–and that’s what made her attainable.
She reached Hotstreak’s side, and gave him a pouty frown as he described what he planned on doing next, obviously ignoring her. She looked over at the two that were giving their opinions, and then down at the stash of cash that was set between them. She knew that it would be distributed throughout Dakota–paying off more informants against Ebon, acquiring more drugs, producing payment for key players in Hotstreak’s plan against Ebon. She wasn’t exactly clear where it all went–but it was a good pay-off for their attack, today.
She looped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a kiss on the cheek, her lips lingering long enough to leave traces of her lip gloss. He lurched away from her with an annoyed groan, shrugging off her arm. He wiped his face with an irritated glance in her direction.
“Quit clinging on me!” he whined, digging out his box of cigarettes.
She shoved him. “You don’t talk to me that way, fucker. How was your day?”
“Good. Lookit this shit. This is what I mean by ‘business’. Hah! How much is it?”
“Over a hundred grand, man,” one of the boys announced, counting a roll, then marking it down on a scrap of paper. He grinned at Maria. “Wanna go out on a date?”
“Sucka, you’re just a boy,” she scoffed. “I need a man.”
At this, she once again looped an arm around Hotstreak’s shoulders, snuggling into him. He didn’t push her away–merely lit his cig and called for another guy across the room. She was used to his ignoring her at these times–hell, most of the time–and she was persistent. One day, he’d see it her way. She just had to work on it.
Her mother didn’t raise a daughter that faltered at the first sign of rejection.
Besides, if he wasn’t attracted to her, or liked her–he knew how to get rid of girls. He hadn’t taken the usual route to get rid of her. And the one that he did, she figured she could accept–after all, she was convinced that the ‘thing’ he had with Richie was something of an experiment...something that the first wife would just have to accept. She figured she could handle a mistress–even if that ‘mistress’ had the same equipment as he. If it made him happy, who was she to dictate otherwise...? Husbands made their decisions, and wives had to deal with it. That was how she was taught, how her family was raised.
It was embarrassing to think about–so she didn’t do it, too much...
“Take this,” Hotstreak said, pressing a few rolls of bills into the guy’s hand. “Get that stuff we talked about. This should cover it.”
“Fuckin’ A, man! I’ll call ya when I get it!”
Maria watched the guy take off, dragging three other guys with him.
“What’s that goin’ for?” she asked curiously, wrapping her arms around one of his, enjoying the feel of muscle. He’d lost some weight over the past few months–but his shoulders and arms were still broad, firm with muscle. She enjoyed touching him. She hadn’t been able to when she was a Bang Baby–she figured she was just making up time by constantly hanging all over him.
“Supplies,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“What kinda supplies?” she asked curiously, pressing her nose against his ear.
“Good ones. Get off me.”
“Stop telling me that!” she whined, but let go of him. “You still got my cell? You realize that I only let you take it cuz I thought I’d get it back the next day!”
“Nah...I left it back at the room.”
“Let’s go get it. I want it back!”
“Ain’t like no one calls you! They always ask for me, anyway...”
“That’s because you’re giving fuckers my number and sayin’ it’s yours!” she exclaimed. “God! I want my phone back!”
“I want my phone back, I want my phone back,” he mimicked her in a high falsetto, completed with fake Spanish accent. She scowled prettily at him.
“Stop it. God, you piss me off...”
“Then why you still here?”
“Shut up.”
He grinned at her, then returned his attention back to the other two. They briefly haggled and argued over selling prices. When he finished, Maria rolled her eyes and leaned onto Hotstreak’s shoulder. “Why you ain’t ever go to school? You coulda been one of those business guys that get all rich and shit. Like that Trump guy.”
“Fuck that bullshit. Here...hey, did anyone get that guy’s number? For the one in San Antonio?” Hotstreak then bellowed, looking questionably at the others. Maria took one of the rolls of money he was holding, impressed at the size. He took it back from her with an annoyed scowl, and when she tried to kiss him, he ducked.
“Nah! We still workin’ on that!” someone shouted.
“No big...we’re covered here, for like, a week. Count off everyone’s cut, man.” Hotstreak then looked back at her. “What are you doing here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go eat, baby. I’m starving.”
“Your ass is too big. You need to starve that shit off.”
“FUCK YOU. God, you’re such a fucking dick!”
He swatted her mentioned anatomy playfully, and ducked the answering swipe. Rising from his seat, he finished off his cigarette, then toed one of the black bags.
“What’s in here?”
“Fifty kilos of meth,” one of the guys from the couch answered, nodding eagerly.
“...Take that to Smith, down in the valley. Those crackheads over there will eat that shit up. Sell it fifty bucks a pop. Why they makin’ cheap shit, nowadays, anyway? Nevermind. It’ll sell...”
“Just ‘fifty’? Dude, you can get at least a hundred and fifty for this shit!”
“No, lower the price, so fuckers can afford it. Man, you dumb dick. Think about it! Who’s buyin’ the shit?”
“Uh...”
“Exactly. No, sell it eighty a pop. That way, once word gets out that peoples could afford it, they’ll be comin’ back here to git s’more...Then we think about raising the prices.”
“Whatever, man.”
“Hey, Stone! Phone call!” someone shouted from the bottom of the stairs, carrying a portable phone. Maria did not miss the hurried rush for the phone. As he answered, he noticeably slumped and looked annoyed as he walked up the stairway. With a glance around, she then followed him.
Maria walked into the kitchen, eyeing the counter top with disgust as she listened to Hotstreak’s conversation. Girls wanted the boys in power, in control–and Hotstreak was one of those boys. He wasn’t the most attractive, she had to admit–he had too cocky of an attitude, a scary temper, and he often looked sullen as a child whenever he was in a bad mood.
His physical appearance was common trailer trash–another white boy acting black was the most common trash talk that she’d heard about him. She looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow as she took in the furrowed eyebrows, the squinty dark eyes, the hawkish nose, the goatee turned soul patch, and curved, cocky lips. Nah, if he were simply someone on the street that she passed by, she would definitely not give him a second glance.
He threw the phone across the room, roaring about bitches, then looked at her.
“C’mon,” he said, gesturing at her. “I’ll let you buy me something to eat.”
“I ain’t buying you shit!” she declared, following after him as he gathered his sweater, coat and hat from the nearby couch. “You’re supposed to be treating me!”
“I’m the man, here. You treat me the way a woman’s s’pposed to.”
She kicked at him, and he nimbly jumped out of the way, laughing. “Motherfucker, you respect me.”
“Without your powers, Maria, yer nothin’ but another bitch...”
She picked up a nearby cup and flung it at him. He ducked and laughed again, hurrying out the door as she followed. She was a little miffed that he brought that up–as Aqua Maria, she had the power to bring him to his knees with her control over water. Now that she was normal, she didn’t have that much control over him. Which was exasperating.
Outside, they headed over to his car, which he’d retrieved earlier.
“Damn,” he muttered as he checked the time on the dash. It was nearly eight, and he didn’t allow the car to warm up as she swept into the passenger side seat, pulling on her seat belt. The engine protested as it was revved once, the entire car shuddering as it lurched from the curb. “I gotta get shit done. Then I gotta jam.”
“What’cha doing?” she asked curiously, her head hitting the back of the seat as he gunned it. She reached out and punched his arm. “And slow the fuck down! There’s ice on the road!”
“I got things to do. Where you wanna eat at? You need tofu? Speed? Something that ain’t gonna go straight to your ass, that’s for sure...”
“Fuck you! Let’s go to El Asad’s...I’m craving some good enchiladas...”
“That takes too long. Taco Bell?”
“Ooh, you just did not go there! You asked me where I wanted to eat! I want El Asad’s!”
“How about Ricky’s? That’s closer...”
“Where you off to in such a rush?” she demanded, glaring at him. Her eyes took on a venomous expression as the latest string of girls that he’d claimed he’d scored with came to mind. It made her fingers curl into tight fists as she wondered why he kept looking over her. “Gotta bitch waitin’ for you?”
“Yeah...” He looked at her, waggling his eyebrows again as he shot through a red light. Outraged horns followed them. “S’matter of fact. Jealous?”
“...Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
“Dick.”
“Proud of it. Hey...you seen Theresa, lately?”
“I’m s’pposed to meet her tomorrow morning for church.”
“They have church during the week?”
She rolled her eyes as he stopped at an intersection. “Church don’t stop for nobody.”
“I ain’t up in that religious bullshit...”
“God makes things happen, honey. God will help those that need Him...He be the one that makes things happen for reasons.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“My faith in Jesus Christ helped me get to where I am today–”
At this, he gave a bark of laughter, and sent her head hitting the seat once again. She immediately reached out to pinch his forearm. “OW!”
“You don’t disrespect Him! He did! He helped me get to where I am! My momma believes in Him, and we both pray every day for good fortune. True, some things aren’t what we want it to be, but He always gets us what we need.”
“Whatever...don’t preach to me.”
“Faith helps the lost get through the darkness...maybe you should sit in on it, one day.”
“Fuck that,” he muttered, shaking his head. They pulled into El Asad’s, and Maria gave him a beaming smile. He looked at her as they screeched to a stop. “Yer still payin’. Get that God given money out an’ buy me stuff.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, then left the car in a huff as he smirked.