(This is not connected to my first “Coffee Catastrophe (KEITH)” post. You don’t have to go back and read it, it was explicit, so you probably don’t need to see it. And it was brought from true events, such as the dialogue and references, as will this one be. Thank you.)

He’s just sitting there. Staring at me over the black coffee he never told me he drunk. His likewise black hair is in his face, his eyes are pure evil, muddy brown like the Mississippi. And for some reason— they still hold their power. Power to make me do anything with that look.

I stare back.

Drinking the same coffee.

In the exact same cup.

From the exact same pot.

From the same busty waitress.

Does it bother me? Maybe.

He pays in cash. I wonder why? Hah. Probably still has the crack and weed business on ‘Luther Street in that old, rundown building on the corner. Hit up that place more than the McD in town. I guess now there’s no room to shame him since I dealt the same deal and sold the same sale.

He locks eyes before he walks out. I angrily toss my drink into the garbage can and storm out, annoyed that he was such an egotistic asshole. I choose the back alleys, side alleys anything.

That’s when someone grabs my wrist. Reflexes jump in quick, I land an uppercut to his perfect jawline and twist out of his tight grip.

“The hell are you doing grabbing on me like that?” I yell, eyebrows furrowed, fists clenched. He stands, wiping his mouth and touching his jaw. I snort at how pathetic he’s become. But he laughs.

He laughs.

I scoff, crossing my arms. “What do you want, Guelner?”

“Haven’t seen you in awhile. That’s all,” he crosses his arms likewise and leans into the rough brick wall, swirling him tongue around. “I missed you.”

My mouth hangs open. Slowly, I close it, then blink away the foggy mist that surrounds me. “Yeah, your stupid bribes don’t work no more. Nor do your looks. Anymore. So…” I trail, biting my tongue. Why does it hurt so much?

“Still a little piss bucket, I see. Welp, if you need a spot,” he gives me a look and his chocolatey eyes brighten. He tosses me a big smile, a wolfish grin that brings me to pieces. “We have a few,” he murmurs. “Mmm… I’d be glad to give you back your spot. I’m single, anyways. The south needs its little… Dixie Land Delight. Eh? That’s what is was. Right?”His laughs ring out and I freeze up, glaring at him.

“I’m not doing your dirty work.”

“You have a lottttttt of secrets, RJ.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“Need a hug?”

“Fuck you.”

“Please, allow me,” he steps forward.

“Touch me and I break your arm.”

“Always liked when you got mad. You’re just so pretty with that rebellious look. You’re writing now, yeh? Drugs didn’t give you enough paper?” His smile widens and he knows he’s done got me. I step closer to him in the darkening alley, I stare him in the eyes and slowly lean in.

Inches from his lips, I whisper the words ever so softly. “I won’t do your BS anymore, Guelner Vasquez. Fuck up.”

I turn, walking away from the mess I’d gotten into years before. It hurts to leave such a pretty face— but he’s not worth the trouble.

“Baddie got a little maddieee,” he calls, chuckling back. “That’s alright, Jay. Swear to God, I’ll tell every fucking rat of mine that I saw you. You better walk away.”

Doesn’t take long to drive home, shut the curtains and hit the wall until my knuckles go numb. I sink to the floor, breathing slowly, eyes closed.

“Cartels,” I laugh, then say it again. “Am I right? They’re nothing like the TV shit. I’m tellin’ yuh.” My hands wander down to the lightening rod clawed scars between my thighs and I sigh, leaning my head up as tears pool.

It won’t be long before they find me again, I just know it.