After hours of wandering the outskirts of Mallyview, Russell had hitchhiked to Grevelton, tired and hungry. It was past midnight and he hoped to find Tsara Orez, the girl he’d met there the night before.
As he walked past the dilapidated, graffiti splattered buildings, Russell wondered if he’d end up sleeping beside the people on the sidewalks. He moved faster when the hooded figures on every corner began hollering, “Leufarem! I got Leufarem for sale!” The distressing scenes made it clear that his life had taken a twirl for the terrible.
Nothing around him looked familiar. Since he wasn’t about to ask for directions to Ding Palace — the dance club that Tsara worked in, he took his chances and headed down an alleyway. Maybe he’d get lucky and the shortcut would lead right to the club.
Near the end of the dark path, he saw what looked like a small campfire. But the closer he came to the flames, the more he realized the men standing around weren’t Boy Scouts cooking marshmallows under the quarter moon. The men boozed and boasted about all the money they’d made that night, even though they had no roof over their heads.
Russell could’ve — and probably should’ve — turned and run but he didn’t want to look scared. However, when two men stepped out of the circle, it was obvious they wouldn’t allow him to just stroll on by.
“Yo kid, come here. I got some Leufarem for sale — best prices in Grev,” slurred the drunk, blocking Russell’s way.
“I don’t want that stuff man.”
“Excuse m-me? I’ll put it this way boy. How much money you got?” he shouted. The man could barely stand as he staggered closer and he smelled like soiled socks soaking in a bucket of vinegar.
“I ain’t got no money!” Russell shouted, clenching his fists as the other men surrounded him. He was in huge trouble.
“Well you ain’t passin’ here for free. We’ll just have to beat some cash out of you,” he slurred.
Suddenly, one of the drunken men slugged Russell in the head, knocking him down. Another intoxicated bum reached down for him, but Russell thrust his Adidas into the man’s face and rolled clear as the drunk cupped his bloody nose and fell down shrieking. Russell staggered up and tried to run, but the drunks overpowered him. They held his arms back and punched away, until the sound of laughter echoed loudly from the alleyway. The drunks quit swinging and looked behind them; they weren’t hallucinating when the chuckling, burley figure marched out of the darkness and into the firelight.
“I never seen a marketing strategy so bad!” said the man, a slight rasp in his words. He removed his leather jacket, tossed it on the ground, then adjusted his black T-shirt. Rubbing his fist, he walked right up to them and glanced down at the poor kid slumped in their clutches.
“Ain’t nobody gonna buy your stuff if you treat ‘em like that,” he said, towering over the drunks. Now unless you want a severe beatin’, quit tackin’ that boy, and get lost.”
“T-Take it easy, Sheridon, we’re leaving — right now,” the drunk stuttered, releasing Russell to the ground. The petrified bums sprinted into the alley and kept on running.
“Thanks,” moaned Russell, rising to one knee.
“Man, don’t thank me. It’s Saturday night, I got a woman waitin’, and I ain’t taken a shower or changed my drawers yet. You can thank Tsara — she sent me out here to make sure your Mally-butt wasn’t gettin’ tacked — a good decision it looks like,” said Sheridon.
“How’d she know I was here?”
“I don’t know kid,” he said, helping Russell up. “I’m takin’ your Mally-butt to her place, then I’m going to pick up my lady.” As they marched through the brutal streets of Grevelton, the number of people who knew Sheridon Coswell amazed Russell. On every corner, Sheridon stopped to hi-five the very people that Russell had been avoiding all night. The excitement continued when Sheridon prevented a gas station robbery; the gun-toting thieves returned the money to the cashier as Sheridon had ordered — even though he had no weapon.
Russell felt safer walking with Sheridon, but he’d never admit it. Yet, he did admit that he liked the respect Sheridon received and wished people would treat him that way. Sheridon offered a different perspective: “Look at this messed up city, Mallyboy. Try to gain respect in a respectful place. I know for fact it’ll mean a lot more to you.”
Tsara lived on the first floor of a surprisingly clean apartment complex. After Sheridon had tapped on her window, she peered from behind the curtains, saw Russell’s condition, then hurried to open the door.
Even in his battered state, Russell gleamed when Tsara appeared in the doorway, where the lovely eighteen-year-old panicked at the sight of him bleeding.
“Quickly, come inside. I will clean you up,” she said taking his hand.
“You better teach Mally-boy how to find your crib. He won’t be so lucky next time,” said Sheridon, closing the door.
“I can take care of myself — and quit calling me Mallyboy. My name’s Russell,” he said, easing down on the pink vinyl couch situated in the tiny living room.
Sheridon laughed. “Sure you can take care of yourself — if you drive around Grevelton in a tank! I best be leaving now. My lady’s probably asleep and it’s my duty to go wake her up.”
“Thanks for bringing him here in one piece.”
“No problem, little sister. Mallyboy, if you go back home tonight, don’t get tacked,” said Sheridon, who strolled out laughing. Russell grinned.
“Ouch!” shouted Russell, as Tsara dabbed peroxide on his wounded scalp. To take his mind off the pain, he asked her about Sheridon.
“Sheridon was a gang leader until someone shot and killed his mother inside their home,” she explained quietly. She’d always wanted him to shape up so he quit being a thug. Now he and his network help people protect themselves and their property — a good thing with hardly any police in Grevelton. That’s why he’s called King of The Streets.”
“So how’d you meet him?”
“I was living on the street and selling drugs when Sheridon found me. He got me this apartment and the job at Ding Palace.”
“Were you sellin’ that Leufarem stuff?”
“I had to. I needed money. Leufarem is dangerous and makes some people go mad so don’t touch it.”
“I ain’t no druggy,” he said, sounding insulted.
Tsara glanced down at her wristwatch then sprang from the couch. “I’m late for work! Come with me it’ll be fun.”
“Can’t. Them two nickels I had in my pockets were kicked out back in that alley.”
She took his hands then helped him up from the couch. “Let me worry about the money,” she said, pulling him close for a kiss. “I heard all about your bad day in Mallyview.”
Russell eased her backwards. “From who?” he asked, glaring hard at her. Tsara stayed quiet and moved to the dining table for her purse. Russell followed her around the corner.
“Well?” he demanded, as she applied black lipstick.
“Russell, you’re not the only person from Mallyview who parties in Grevelton,” she explained, combing her short black hair. “People say your picture is plastered all over that town, which is why I asked Sheridon to look for you. Now cheer up and let’s go have some fun.”