Page 2 of SNOB

Is he keeping guard? He’s way too young to be part of this fancy crew of criminals. But then again, Angelo joined the Scorpions at sixteen.

My hand comes to my mop of red coils, smoothing them down. Gaze still on me, Iron Eyes pushes a hand through his shiny black hair, an unruly curl tickling his dark thick brow. Swallowing hard, my throat feels like Nevada in summer. Dry as fuck.

“I’ll give you one last chance.” Sterling steps towards my uncle, backing him against the counter but Uncle Jake doesn’t budge. “Remember, you have a big career ahead of you. Give up the rights to your filthy thrift shop and finally feed your family.”

“Nope.” Uncle Jake doesn’t miss a beat.

“Stupid,” Sterling laughs before he tilts his head.

One of the older men steps forward.

Click!

Everything slows as my eyes land on the gun in the man’s hands. He points it at my uncle, a spell of dizziness hitting me.

Sterling turns to the boy with the iron eyes. “Stay outside, son.”

That’s the only thing to pull his gaze from mine. Then he speaks, his voice smooth and crisp, that carelessness extending to it. “Don’t worry.” He moves towards the middle of the room, next to the man with the gun. “I’ll help.”

“Oh?” Sterling crosses his arms. “So you want to show this Valley vermin the only answer we take?”

Iron Eyes shrugs like it’s no biggie there’s a weapon in the hands of a teenager. These guys look like they’re from The Hill, but I guess guns don’t phase them either.

“Kid,” Uncle Jake says, his arms stretched out in front of him, his hands splayed. “Careful with that.”

Iron Eyes glances at me, claiming my vision again before my eyes dart back to Uncle Jake.

Just give them the place.

I try to telepathically plead with the last person in my life.

Don’t let them take you away too.

“Kid.” Uncle Jake uses that same voice of reasoning when I throw a tantrum. “Don’t be like your father?—”

POW!

That sound fills the room as my ears ring.

No…

No!

My knees buckle, my hand clamping to my mouth as I fall to the cold concrete floor.

I can’t take any more of this.

I can’t take another loss.

My fingers tighten around the gold between my fingers. There’s no space for another photo. Another memory.

That feeling in my chest tightens some more, my eyes blurring.

I’m not ready to say goodbye. I never am.

Just as the room around me darkens, I hear a groan.

“You—you really fuckin’ did it, kid.”

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