I'm a Juvenile Delinquent, I Can't Fall for a Cop!

Aw shit, I did NOT see that coming. I personally expected that, in the chaos, we could disarm the guards by Lastorino, put a gun to his head, and drag him out the door behind him. Now, assuming we could find a way out without running into any guards, our only option was to run. I had to think fast. There was no way we could escape now, not completely undetected. Deyton wasn’t a creative thinker, so this was on me. Before I knew what was happening, Deyton and I were shoved forward into Lastorino’s table. Others had been treated similarly, but unfortunately, we had to get the heat from the angry mob leader.

“’the fuck are you?!” snarled a guard, slamming me face-first down onto the table. I wanted to kick that gorilla’s fat face in. Locating a nearby crack whore, whose brain was clearly fried form drugs, I answered, “Blondie there told me I could help deal if the boss allowed it.” I added a hint of nervousness and desperation to my voice (fake as fuck). “My brother came with me.”

“What makes you so special?” he leered. Annoyed by my humiliating position on the table, I kicked the buffoon holding me in the foot and shin, sprung up and took him down with a few more kicks, then finished with a pretty roundhouse. Lastorino nodded slowly. “Name.”

“Speare. My brother Silver.” I had no idea where I got that from. Basically, we got off the hook. But chances are, we would be followed; and two guards did just that, escorting us out of the main entrance. Someone would have to get our cars- preferably before these guys found them and got our prints. I doubted they were that smart though.

We walked an annoying distance to his apartment. I shaded all the windows as he reported back. I really hoped we wouldn’t have to live together as part of the cover.

-

“You will both be living together as part of the cover,” Carson announced, having come over in under 5 minutes.

“No.” I crossed my arms, glaring from another couch. “I absolutely cannot and will not live this- this, person.” That was my attempt to be civilized. “You can send me to jail. I’ll do that instead.” I nodded wisely. Yes, that would have to do.

“You can and you will. It would very convenient for me to leave your car and your fingerprints where Lastorino can find them, and you’ll be left at his mercy instead of, well, ours.”

I glared. “You would not stoop so low as to throw me to the mercy of ghetto justice!” I exclaimed. “What did I ever do to you!?”

“You egged my car.” He stated, as if that were the solution to end poverty.

“You had Deyton pour some foul-smelling nasty green liquid into my hair that stained for weeks!” I retaliated.

He held in a smile. “Nonetheless, you will be staying here until you catch Lastorino. No exceptions.” The doorbell rang. “And fortunately for you, Taker and Beating volunteered to retrieve some supplies for you from your home.”

Deyton went to let his friends in as I stared down his boss. “You mean UN-fortunately! Don’t you need a warrant to go through my things?” I seethed.

He smirked at me. “Would you like to report me to the police?”

I threw a cushion at him before making my way to the kitchen. I was annoyed but not surprised to see Deyton, Pierre and Matthew holding up a bra, lace boyshorts and a thong that I’ve never worn and will never wear. There were three big duffel bags from my favorite two sports brands- Nike and Puma. I punched all of them in the arm, earning three solid “ow’s”, and dug through them. They had basically emptied my drawers into them, which was a good thing because all of my clothes and underwear were stored inside.

I was missing towels and bathroom supplies though- I’d have to buy some later. I didn’t wear makeup or use much lotion, so at least I had one less thing to worry about. My current shoes I could wear with anything, so it wasn’t a problem for now- until I needed to dress up for something. And I certainly hoped not- I was not a fan of dressing up. I snatched my underwear away from the boys and stuffed them back into one of the gym bags.

“Is there a reason why all of your underwear is purple, black or blue?” questioned Pierre.

“Is there a reason why you felt the need to inspect my underwear?” I retorted, before making myself comfortable on a chair and surfing the net on my phone. My underwear wasn’t even interesting- all of my bras were standard Victoria’s secret with no design or lace, and all of my underwear consisted of boyshorts. Some of those had lace, though.

“Really, what guy wouldn’t?” Matthew rolled his eyes at me.

“One that got laid enough not to be transfixed by plain underwear.”

“Ooooooh,” laughed Deyton and Pierre as I tried to raid the empty fridge.