01

Before you begin reading I just want to let you know that I love you, a lot, and thanks for being interested in my story and I hope you like it.

Now can you please highlight this text and leave a comment saying the time, date, and state you are in. I'm a weirdo and would like to know.

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NEW YORK CITY, the city so nice they named it twice.

It's by far my favorite place in the world. I know that's a bit dramatic for someone who's only ever been here twice. The first time was with my mom when I was just five years old. We had taken a bus from Vermont to Massachusetts and then into New York. The bus ride was long and uncomfortable, but I was bouncy and ecstatic. When I stepped out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal and onto 8th Avenue, there was only one word that could accurately describe the feeling; home. Even though I was only able to be in the city for a few hours, every minute felt like a lifetime.

That's why when I got an opportunity to attend St Mary's — one of the best-performing arts colleges in the world, I knew it was an offer I couldn't refuse. My mom however was a little hesitant about letting me.

I get her pessimistic attitude though because St Mary's is literally across the country from our little home back in Phoenix, Arizona. It's the farthest I've ever been from home and also the longest. Despite almost being a few months away from my twenty-first, I've never really been on my own. I've always had my mom beside me for everything even after I graduated high school. She even convinced me to attend a lesser-known community college for my first year of undergrad because it wasn't too far from home and she didn't like the idea of me going too far. Which in turn made me take up Biology in hopes of following her footsteps of being in the medical field since the school didn't have a ballet program I could join. I didn't enjoy it, I hated it to be honest. I remember being so stressed during my first semester to the point I wouldn't even sleep because I'd be so busy studying for exam after exam.

When I finally had enough I built up the courage to tell my mom that medicine is not something I wanted to do and I wanted to dance instead. I knew she wouldn't be onboard immediately but she knew how much dancing means to me. I mean the woman had me in classes at the ripe age of seven, she knew I was good at it — loved it, nearly breathed to dance. However, when I first got the email that I was eligible to attend St. Mary's and told her she immediately shot me down.

Despite being born and raised in New York — a Jamaica Queens native — that woman did not want me to come here. "It's too dangerous." she'd always tell me, and show me hundreds of articles of the crime being committed in the area. It sounds a little overbearing and maybe it is for some but if anyone knew the things my mom has been through throughout her life you'd understand why she acts the way she does.

In response, I told her not one city in America is one hundred percent safe, and she watches the news every morning so she should be the first to know that. Thankfully, after many many weeks of pleading, I finally got her to agree to let me leave hot ass Phoenix and let me move on over to the Big Apple, and despite now being in the city for almost a month my mom still hasn't let up with her worrisome antics.

"I heard there was a man with a bomb on his chest in the subway today," she said to me on the phone, I can picture her face troubled over the call. She's probably still in her scrubs and lab coat meaning she's still at work. I can hear the muffled voices of the other hospital staff and the ticking of medical machinery around her.

"It wasn't a bomb, it was actually just a rubber duck," I tell her as I keep my eyes ahead on the road in front of me, the phone tucked between the crease of my neck and cheek. "And It was just some teenager filming a not very throughout prank for their twelve followers on Twitch."

My mom let out a sigh, and I can imagine her russet brown skin and her even browner eyes scrunching up at me in the process. "I'm just saying Kylo. You need to be careful up there."

I'm tempted to roll my eyes but I keep my eyes on the road as I make a swift turn. "Mom, I've been at St. Mary's for almost two months and all I've done is go to class, go to rehearsals, and then to sleep. It doesn't get much safer than that I fear."

"Well . . ." she breathed. "you know I only want you to be safe is all. The city's a dangerous place and it's not like I'm on the other side of town anymore. I'm thirty-six hours away. I don't like to think of it that way but you're on your own kid."

"I know that and I'm not a kid anymore Mom. What's that old saying . . ." I thought about it for a moment. "how can the baby bird ever learn to fly if it never leaves the nest?"

"You are not a damn bird."

"That's not the point!"

She exhales a low sigh. "I just want you to be careful baby, all I pray about when I wake up and before I go to bed is your safety."

"I'm fine Mom," I smiled in response knowing that my words would ease her mind a bit. "the only thing you need to worry your pretty little head about is your patience."

"Shoot," I can hear the fabric of her scrubs rubbing together in a hurry. "my breaks almost up. I'll talk to you tomorrow honey, alright? Love you."

"Love you too." I managed to get out just before she ended the call.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, my hands gripping around the steering wheel of the luxury white Porsche. I turn the music up a bit, my head bopping to the beat as I drive around, the starless night looking down on me from the sunroof. I roll down the tinted windows letting the chilled air rustle through my darkened curls and kiss my reddened cheeks. It feels good — feels free.

When I stop the car at the front of the restaurant I swiftly hop on out and make my way around handing the keys back to the owner of the vehicle. "Thank you." the older gentleman said taking them back, a generous tip of fifty dollars in his hands.

"No, thank you sir for coming to La Crème, and have a good night." I smiled back at the man as he helped his date for tonight into the passenger seat without wrinkling her very expensive dress, before returning to the driver's side and taking off.

Being a valet driver for one of the most exclusive and expensive restaurants in New York had its perks. For one I get to drive pretty cool cars all night even though they aren't mine but it's still fun nonetheless. Also, the pay is pretty good and the tips aren't too bad either and with my tuition at St. Mary's piling up, I definitely can't afford to be too picky. That's quite literally the only reason I got this job so I could pay off my debts for school. New York is expensive and attending the best performing arts school in New York is definitely not cheap.

I realized that within a week after getting my acceptance letter. I was just good enough to get into St. Mary's but not good enough for any of the scholarships, and I don't wanna bother my mom about money because for one she's just gonna say I should've stayed home and continued school there where it's cheaper and safer and she already has her hands full with work and whatnot. I was the one that wanted to leave home to follow my dreams and this is the price I have to pay — quite literally.

"Kylo, you'll never believe who I just saw!" I can hear my roommate and coworker Semaj before I can see him, his words sounded like he was trying to whisper them but was failing miserably.

I turned around to see him behind me, our usual work uniform which consisted of nothing more than a white long-sleeve button-up and black slacks clinging to his tall lanky build. "If this is gonna be another one of your stories where you say you saw Drake because you saw the back of his head I don't wanna hear it."

"First off," Semaj folds his long arms over his chest. "that was definitely Drake and I know because he's the only forty-year-old man that'll walk around with rubber bands and puff balls in his head, but that's beside the point guess who I saw this time?"

I made a face at him, my thick brows raising on my forehead. "Bella Hadid?"

Semaj shakes his head no, waving me off. "No, she came last week."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, you took that Friday off for your silly dance performance so you missed her but no it wasn't her. It was fucking Jaylen Park!"

"Oh," I said, my face falling a little flat. "you know I'm not really into sports but it's cool that he was here," I said as I made my way over to the empty valet area.

Semaj kissed his teeth following behind me. "Cool? It was fucking amazing. He was nice a fuck and I drove his car around. An orange Maserati and it smelled like oranges."

I sent a look to the fanboy. "I don't think Mr. Park would appreciate you smelling his car."

"Whatever man. You're just jealous because I get all the celebs and all you get are finance bros and D-list nepo babies."

I rolled my eyes before shifting my glance towards my watch seeing we only had a few more hours left of our shift. "I don't care who I get as long as they leave a nice tip." I make money gestures with my fingers and Semaj laughs lowly before shoving me lightly with his shoulder.

Amid our conversation, bright headlights shine in front of us. At first, I think it's just one car pulling up and I'll have to rock paper scissor Semaj for it but then I see more headlights. Two big black Rolls Royce pull up in front of us. Both a sleek black so clean and polished that the moonlight reflected off the exterior like a mirror. The black rims intensify the overall expensive look of the vehicles. Semaj and I exchange a glance between each other.

"Rappers or athlete?" He whispered to me as we kept our eyes trained on the cars in front of us.

"It's hard to tell," I replied, watching as the cars came to a stop. "black is almost too simple of a color for a rapper and athletes aren't as flashy."

The car door on the first car opens and out comes a man dressed in a black button-up and slacks, and then another, and then another. Within seconds both cars had about seven men standing outside them, all cladded in black attire which was in regulation to La Crème mandatory dress code, but even in nice buttons up and slacks the men still had an intimidating aura radiating off them. Tattoos on all their skin, some more than others, some in odd places like the neck, face, and even the back of the head.

"Gangsters." I hear Semaj whisper lowly, his big dark eyes never moving away from the men as they got themselves situated outside the cars.

It's no secret that New York has had a rising crime rate over the past couple of years like any other major city in the United States. There are robberies, shootings, and murders almost every other day. That's why my mom was so adamant about not letting me come down here. I understand her hesitation but danger is everywhere, it just so happens here in New York it's everywhere, anywhere, all at once. Even in the million-dollar Roll Royce.

One of the men walked over to the backseat of the first car and opened it and that's when another man stepped out. The first thing I noticed about him was his tattoos. Even with a long-sleeved button-up and slacks, I can tell that tattoos covered his body like a middle school desk. I could see the designs peaking out from under the top of his shirt that remained unbuttoned, the black ink traveling from his exposed chest up to his neck and even under his chin. The only bare thing about him was his face and even that was intimidating. With high cheekbones and mischievous dark eyes, I nearly grew dizzy looking at him, everything about him was so distracting.

He has a phone pressed against his ear, one of the other men coming behind and draping an expensive-looking blazer over him like he was some kind of king — maybe he is I just didn't know it yet. The man opens his mouth and out comes a language I did not understand. From the pronunciation and accent that rolled off his tongue, I would have to guess French. It catches me off guard because I didn't expect that voice to come out of his mouth. From his sharp facial features I expected something furious and menacing but what I got was something deep and subtle but in the most unfriendly way.

I regret not taking up French when I was in high school because I'm curious as to what he's saying. I'm nosy as fuck, I don't care.

The men began to make their way towards Semaj and me and we immediately straightened up. "Welcome to La Crème!" we said in unison, our voices mixing awkwardly but I doubt the men cared. One goes over to Semaj and hands him the keys to one of the cars, while another man comes up to me and hands me the other set of keys.

"Don't try taking it for a joy ride either boys." One man joked, the other following in a suit of laughter right after. Semaj let out a fake one of his own and when I don't follow he nudges me in the shoulder rather hard.

"Laugh or that's your ass on a silver platter," Semaj whispered to me.

I straightened up then. "Ha ha ha . . ." I forced up a little too hard, the men sending me odd looks as they walked past us.

The one obviously in charge here observes me with the gaze of a stranger, that aloof judgment with no strings. From afar he has made some opinion of me. I try to brush it off as he makes his way past me. That aroma of his cologne was as chilling as the blackest of the coldest winter nights, wrapping you in a cocoon of dark florals, damp woods, and spices. The man doesn't laugh like the other men, he doesn't grimace, pucker his lips, frown, or anything as makes his way in the restaurant. His face stays the same — cold and hardened like he's forever stuck in timeout.

"What the fuckkk . . ." Semaj prolonged the word, excitement dripping from his two-toned lips as he clung onto my shoulders. "real live mafia men just walked into the restaurant."

I raised a questioning brow at my friend. "And that got your dick hard? A bunch of scary-looking men with tattoos?"

He shrugged his slender shoulders at me. "Yeah, a little bit not gonna lie."

"You're pathetic," I say to him as I move away from his grip on me and towards the car I have to take to the parking garage.

"Did you see how that one guy got out of the car? I bet he thought he was cool as shit when that other guy put that jacket on him while he was on the phone." Semaj jokingly pokes out his bird chest as he tries to walk around all macho like but it only made him look constipated.

"I don't know why you're going so crazy over them. They're probably terrible people. We've had like five shootouts this week and they were probably behind all of them." I finally stand to my feet, tossing my bag over my shoulder.

"There's actually been seven," Semaj corrects like that made it better. "The streets have been saying there's real shit going on between these gangs in the city, a lot of fighting over territory, money, and whatever else."

"And the police do nothing while innocent bystanders are caught in the crossfire." I shake my head as I enter the car from the driver's side. The interior is just as lavish as the exterior. The car has a personality of its own with an amazing star roof.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know I've been hanging out with Mayor Goody Goody this entire time." He teases as he follows me, inserting his long head in the car and looking around like a kid at a candy store.

"If I was the mayor I would blast all of them out of the city like how Team Rocket used to get done at the end of Pokémon."

Semaj kisses his teeth as he reaches across from me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him, his long slender arms reaching over me. "I'm just trying to see something, relax."

"Go snoop in the other car. Why do you have to do it in the one I got?"

"Because you got the big bad boss's car." he winks at me before reaching for the glove compartment and opening it. Almost immediately a gun fell from it and we both jumped back.

"I knew it!"

"Are you fucking insane? Put that back!"

Semaj turned to me with a widened smile on his face. "These guys are the real deal Kylo, real fucking gangsters."

"I thought we already came to that conclusion when we saw the tattooed foreheads?" I said to him. He's practically in my lap now leaning over me into the passenger seat like an idiot.

Semaj looks down at the gun and then back at me. "Put that shit away. Guns creep me out, man." I tell him. Those soulless clunks of metal. They call them "arms" - but they ain't. Arms are what your mom hugs you with, maybe the cold kind is what you get when no one hugs you enough.

"Really?" He made a face.

"Uh, yeah!" I mirrored. "Guns!? I don't know nothing bout that."

"Fine. We should probably go park these cars too before more come piling up." Semaj reached down to grip the gun with his bare fingers and I yelled at him."You're the dumbest motherfucker I know, why would you touch it with your fingers? That could be a murder weapon for all we know. Use your shirt." I tell him.

He knocks on his head which I'm pretty sure didn't feel like much considering there's nothing in there but a monkey playing with cymbals. "You're so smart. If you weren't doing that ballet shit you definitely could've been a detective." Semaj untucks his button-up and uses it to pick up the gun carefully before placing it back in the glove compartment.

He jumps up off me and out of the car dusting himself off. "See that wasn't so bad now was it?" he smiled.

I started up the car. "Get the fuck outta here and go park the other car." I slammed the car door in his face before pulling off to the parking garage.

••••

EXCUSE ANY MISTAKE OR ERRORS

Pretty mundane chapter but it gets a crazier from here I promise lol