The Beginning (The Life 1)

“No can do Lancelot.”

“I told you not to call me that shit?” I grinned into the phone as I opened my car door and got in. “It’s your name.”

“Lance, asshole. I’m almost there.”

I looked in the rearview mirror to see him pulling in behind me, blocking me in. Sometimes I wish my best friend wasn’t such a stickler for propriety and doing shit the way our parents expected us to. We are an odd couple, if there ever was one. Lance is black, the son of the local priest, I'm Italian, and my father sends lots of business his father's way on their way to the hereafter.

“Move your piece of shit out of my way.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my car.”

“It’s fifty years old.”

“So what? It still runs.”

“Good for you now get the fuck outta my way.” His stubborn ass refused to move.

I put the car in reverse and slammed back into him, and listened to him curse me through the headpiece as he tried to get out of my way. “Fuck it, Gabriel, wait for me.” I sped down the driveway leaving him in my dust.

Since I’m pretty sure he knows where I’m headed, I wanted to get there before he could stick his nose in my shit. Some may say that what I’m about to do is foolish and immature. They have no idea that I think everything through before I act. And there’s always a reason behind my madness.

I pulled up outside the house I’m sure my nemesis had run off to after catching my foot in his ass. The guy who’s been dogging my steps since middle school for some ass-fucked reason can’t let go. Maybe it’s because I have him beat at everything and in every way. Fuck, that got to do with me? Asshole!

I pounded on the door until one of the drug heads that hung out there let me in. The room was filled with smoke, and a strong scent of weed floated through the air. On the table were things way more dangerous, some illegal, some not.

I barely withheld my sneer as I searched out my prey. I saw the bright yellow shirt his bitch ass was dumb enough to wear and walked over to the corner where he was busy transferring some kind of disease to one of the many neighborhood jump-offs.

“Hey!” Blowhard started shit when I pulled him up by his neck.

“You sent cops to my house? You wanna die?” I stared into his eyes as I spoke. He and I were the only ones in the room who knew why I was really about to beat his ass for the second time that day.

My fist found the same mark it had earlier, and I was almost bored as I pounded his face to mush. I knew as soon as Lancelot showed up because I felt hands on me. No one else in here would dare.

“Enough, Gabriel, let him go.” I wasn’t even winded, and my hand didn’t feel sore enough to be done, but I knew he wouldn’t let my ass be now that he was here, so there was no point in trying.

“Fine!”

I leaned over into dude’s ear. “You ever mention my sister’s name again with your filth; they’ll find pieces of you all over the East Coast. First, and final warning!” I dropped him like the piece of shit he is and headed for the exit.

“I’m hungry; let’s go grab a bite. Ma was making something nice before I left.” I know the look he gave me without having to see his face, just as I knew the following words that will be out of his mouth.

“What the fuck are you anyway?” I just looked back over my shoulder and smiled before walking back to my car. Yeah, that’s a question my best friend asks all the time, ever since we were teens anyway. He’d been my friend longer than that, ever since he moved here with his family when we were both seven or eight, and I used to spend summers here with gramps and nana.

Back then, I was the first one to stick up for him when the same asshole I just pounded tried bullying him. He was a scrawny-looking thing back then with his chocolate brown skin and those eyes that saw too much even as a kid.

I looked back when he just stood there watching me walk away and was just in time to see that look on his face. He’s the only one who ever looks at me like that. I turned swiftly away and climbed into for my ride.

I headed home and wasn’t surprised to hear him pull up behind me on the driveway. “Let me see your hand.”

“Damn, you whine more than a bitch.”

“If aunt Sophie sees your hand, she’s going to worry.”