What Breaks a Man?: Sensible Hearts Part 2

by H. Q. Frost

  "Fuck." I rush the truck and yank open the door seeing my backpack's gone. "Fuck, fuck!" My wallet was in there.

  My eyes dart to Brie's and I'm rushing her front door before I let my rage calm down. I pound a few times until an older woman answers with her eyes wide and worried.

  "Where's Brie?" I scream, trying to look into her house.

  "She's not here! She isn't here!" she insists when I try to push the door open.

  "Brie!" I shout into the house and she shoves me back by my chest.

  "What's she done?" the woman asks, and when I hear the tears, I back off.

  "Where can I find her? Can you call her home? I'm going to have to call the cops on her, lady. Where is she?"

  "What's she done?" she begs me to tell her and I turn toward my truck that's in Iesha's driveway.

  When she looks out she gasps and covers her mouth. "She didn't do that," she whispers.

  "Get her on the phone or I have to call the cops."

  Being ex-con, you don't really want to deal with cops. They're less likely to be on your side. I've always been the type to deal with my issues my damn self. Especially something like this.

  I don't listen as the woman in tears calls Brie, but I can hear the sobbing and it's making me uncomfortable. Somehow making me feel guilty for this. As I'm about to walk back over to Iesha's, a car stops on the curb and Brie gets out.

  "Oh shit." Her eyes are wide and she's staring at my truck. "Mama, go in the house," she calls to the crying woman on the porch.

  "Brienna, what happened?"

  "I don't know. Just get in the house!" she yells. "Dom, what the fuck happened?"

  "You fucking tell me," I storm toward her and when she takes a frightened step back, I quickly halt my steps.

  Two girls get out of the car and rush over like they're going to take me down.

  "What's going on? You want me to call the cops?" one asks her.

  "Did you call the cops about this, Dom?" She's gesturing to my truck and the look on her face is like the sight is insane, and it is, but I know she had something to do with it.

  "Where the fuck is my backpack, Brie?" I snarl and watch her face turn from shock at the sight, to anger I'm accusing her.

  "Uh-uh!" Her hands thrust into my chest, catching me off guard so I stumble and fall. "Fuck you, Dom, I didn't have nothin' to do with this! I'm sick of you accusing me of this shit. Why don't you go in there and ask that fucking bitch what happened? And what happened the day you were jumped. Fuck you, man. Call the cops, I'm innocent!"

  The girls get back in the car and drive away before I get to my feet, but when I do, I look back at Iesha's. The door's still closed, curtain's shut, and she hasn't come back out. I walk to the door and quietly knock, giving her a minute, then knock louder.

  "Iesha," I call, and when I try the knob, it's locked. "Iesha!" I yell as my heart starts to race because maybe Brie hasn't been lying.

  "Sestak, you're done for the evening. Don't you have better things to do than call me?" Rory answers his phone with a huff.

  "Uh." I stare at the truck a minute. "I'm in some shit here. Can you meet me? Don't bring the Porsche."

  There are no questions asked but when he shows, he's not happy.

  "I thought this had something to do with business," he quietly snarls. "What the fucking fuck." With a shake of his head he walks over to the truck. "What're you doing in neighborhoods like this? Well, did ya call the cops?"

  "No. It'd probably be best you did. It's your vehicle."

  "Motherfucking shit. Bringing me to the ghetto for some bullshit," he grumbles as he walks away and gets back in his truck.

  "Iesha?" I knock on the door again and this time I hear her inside. "Open the damn door, Iesha. The cops are coming. Open the door," I bark. "I don't want the cops coming after you for this shit, open the door and talk to me."

  The door cracks open and she says, "Take your money elsewhere, Dom. This neighborhood ain't for people like you."

  "What the fuck does that mean?" I bark quietly so the boys don't hear.

  "You bring your money and nice cars to a street like this, you get in trouble." She closes the door and the click of the lock almost makes me slam into it.

  If the boys weren't inside, I would snap the door frame. Was it a confession? Why's she suddenly pulling away? Was it a setup for me to come for dinner today? I could question everything over and over but still not get any answers so I head for Rory's truck where he's still on the phone. An unmarked police car flies up behind Rory in the street, and the second he steps out, I almost lose my shit.

  It's Nyla's husband.

  ~~*~~

  "You're tight with that cop, huh?" I mumble as we drive into the city.

  "Brad Hancock? I've known him a long time. Shadiest of shady that cop, but if you need something done, he can do it."

  Nyla Hancock. I cringe.

  "So what'd he do in this situation? I think I know who stole the tires and my bag. The dickhead didn't ask me shit."

  "Because I don't want you involved in anything like that shit. You having run-ins with the cops even if you're the victim will only cause you problems we don't need."

  "Well I still want my backpack and my wallet."

  "It's a lost cause, Dom. I made an insurance claim. I'll get enough money to replace the backpack and wallet."

  "And the three hundred bucks in my wallet?"

  "I said you had seven hundred." He smirks and I shake my head.

  "That cop's married to the boss," I grumble with a roll of my eyes.

  "I ain't up in their personal business. I do business with them, and anything dealing with the law, I call Brad first. I don't know who's marrying what, or fucking how, and I don't give a shit. Give me money." His laugh bounces around the truck and I lean my head back, closing my eyes.

  That's probably Nyla's mentality now too. Everything's for money. For a girl like Nyla to get involved in shit like this, it's gotta be about the money. You get a little, a little more, a little more, and when you start getting a little less, you work harder, get shadier, more fucked up to keep your pockets full.

  Maybe it's better there are things keeping us apart. Not because I'm a saint, but because I'm a sinner and the girl that was once a saint can no longer save me.

  ~~*~~

  As Rory promised, the truck was back in my possession three days later and a check was on the way from the insurance company. He paid me cash for what was stolen; more than likely because the check coming is for a hell of a lot more money.

  "Aye, I'll be home in four minutes. And yes, I got milk, dear," I answer CJ's call.

  "You get your truck back?"

  "She's got four wheels again."

  "Fuck the milk. Meet me up at Thrill."

  "The fuck is that?" I ask, turning onto our street.

  "The sports bar on Ryan. Punch it and meet me, dude." He hangs up and I groan.

  It's only seven thirty but I'd like a full night of undisturbed rest. The only good part of this is I know I can get him to buy my drinks.

  The game is on every TV in this bar and I sigh because I don't want to party. Four high tables hold the guys we work with along with a few others I don't know, and when I sit down, a beer is put in front of me.

  "Where you been? You needa catch up, Sestak," Dale says putting a shot in front of me.

  "Dude." I grimace at the shot. I only wanted a few beers.

  "Don't be a bitch." CJ slaps my back. "Look right here." He points into the crowd. "This bitch has been dancing on tables and shit. They keep trying to kick her out but she knows the owner or something."

  I don't see who he's pointing at because there's at least twenty girls in that direction, but I take the shot and prepare for a longer night than intended.

  "Look, look!" Gary's pointing in excitement at the girl CJ was telling me about. She's climbing onto a table after we scored. "She's hot as fuck."

  "I know her," I mumble when she turns in our direction.


  I slink down, hoping she doesn't notice me in the crowd.

  "How do you know her?" CJ asks with too much excitement.

  "She's friends with… a girl," I respond and turn my head to hide from Mandy.

  "Introduce us, Sestak," Dale suggests and I snicker because that's not happening.

  I get two beers and two shots in and I'm ready to get the hell out of here, but before I get away from the table, Mandy steps in front of me.

  "Hey, jail break."

  I pinch my eyes because I've been here for two hours and managed to avoid her.

  "Hey. See ya later." I try to step around her but she latches onto my arm.

  "Buy me a drink."

  "Broke. Sorry."

  "Then I'll buy you one, sorry ass."

  "I was actually gonna take off." I try to pull out of her grip until I see Nyla.

  She's sitting at a tall table laughing with someone and that smile could make me do questionable things.

  "Bye then." Mandy pushes me a step back.

  "One beer," I say and give her my attention.

  "That's what I thought." She wraps her arm with mine again and pulls me up to the bar. "Here." A jar full of money slides in front of me and I glance at the bartender, pushing it away. "It's yours." Mandy laughs and I scowl at her. "If." Her finger with a deep red nail lifts in the air.

  "This is their tip jar." I push it farther away from me and she grabs it.

  "No. It's my tip jar." She pulls the jar in front of her. "And you can have every last cent. All you gotta do is walk up and kiss her."

  "What? Who?" I bark and look down at the insane girl.

  "Nyla, dumb fuck." She slaps me upside the head.

  "Don't fucking touch me," I tell her while she laughs at me.

  "Do you accept?" She glances toward Nyla's table.

  Money doesn't need to be my motive to kiss Nyla, but there's a jar of money with my name on it if I do, and I'll take a fist to the face for publicly kissing her.

  "Hey," I call the bartender, not trusting Mandy, and point at the jar. "Is this yours?"

  She shakes her head no and hands me a beer.

  "I accept," I tell Mandy and drink the beer in a few gulps.

  "I'll hold this." She grabs the jar and I look back at Nyla who's still clueless I'm here.

  Looking at Mandy, she's grinning up at me and wiggles the jar as if that's my motive. As I weave around people, I approach the table, getting Nyla's attention when I'm a few steps away. Her talking mouth pauses and she stares at me. I only glance at her table companion, noticing it's a man, but don't bother checking if it's her husband. The second I'm close enough, I grab her face and move in. There was a second or two that she kissed me back before shoving me and blurting my name.

  "All yours," Mandy says and slaps the jar against my chest. "Get lost," she then says to the guy sitting at Nyla's table.

  "What the hell?" Nyla barks, looking between me and Mandy.

  "He just made about a hundred and twenty for that ballsy move," Mandy says, sliding into the guy's seat when he stands.

  "You just kissed me for a hundred dollars?" Nyla shouts looking at me disgusted.

  "Why don't you get lost." The guy shoves my arm and I face him.

  I stand taller and set the jar on the table, ready to square off with this guy, but as each second passes, he's shrinking more and more.

  "Beat it." Mandy uses her foot to shove him away.

  "Just go, Len." Nyla huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and the douche bolts.

  This is the awkward part because what now? What I did was a tool move. That could have been her husband sitting here with her, and now I gotta explain I did it because I'm just an asshole, it wasn't for the money.

  I don't get the chance to say anything because she shoves past me and storms out of the bar. I don't give a shit about the money so I take off after her, catching her before she gets into her car.

  "Why'd you do that?" she shouts at me.

  "Kiss you?" I ask like it was a stupid question.

  "You're an asshole." Her car door whips open and her back turns to me, but she's not walking away.

  I haven't seen her in a few days. Since I found out she's running a huge underground drug smuggling company. Swiping my hand to her stomach, I pull her back and shove the door closed before pinning her against it and kissing her again. This is my solution, and it seems to pay off because she kisses me back, until she bites me.

  "Nyla!" I shout putting my hand to my lip.

  "Dick." She gets in her car and almost runs over my toes backing out of the spot.

  I don't know I'd call it drunk, but I'm buzzed enough to be stupid enough to go after her. I'm in my truck, driving like my life's depending on it, and not until I almost blow a red do I slow down and think about what the hell I'm doing. Last thing I need is to be arrested for drunk driving. Her car's in the lot of her complex so I rush up the stairs and knock.

  When she pulls it open, she sighs. "What?"

  "Are you alone?" I ask, glancing behind her.

  "Yes! What the hell do you want?"

  My lips crash hard because I want her to shut up, and this time she grabs on and kisses me back. Getting us inside, I lift her and pin her to the door, and when her legs wrap around my waist, I cut to the chase. I slide my hands up her outer thighs and yank at her pants until she stands and I can push them and her underwear off. We're still kissing and she's trying to move us, but I don't let her. I pin her to the door again and free my cock in a second before shoving myself inside of her.

  "Dom!" she screams as her head hits the wood. "Yes, fuck!" Her nails latch on as I pump harder, slamming her against the door.

  Under five minutes but we both get what was needed and I set her on tired legs.

  "What the hell is your problem?" she pants, leaning her head onto my shoulder.

  "Stop ignoring my texts, Nyla." I kiss her head.

  "It's for your own safety." She pulls back and looks up at me. "I need you to stop doing the jobs and to stay the hell away from me."

  It's comical so I laugh. "You have no right to request that. You're a fucking drug dealer, La."

  Her lips clamp and her head drops. "Leave," she says, pulling up her pants and the door open at the same time.

  "Nyla." I laugh and try to grab her but she shoves my hands away.

  "Leave, Dom."

  Fuck. I don't want to fucking leave, but I don't want her uncomfortable so I zip my pants and walk out, jumping when her door slams at my back.

  The woman's morals are fucked up and she's going to act like I'm the problem!

  Every text I send goes ignored. Apologies, questions, accusations. They all go ignored. And so I choose to ignore her telling me to stop doing the jobs and I pick up more. I'm doing a run to a local shelter that's not far from Iesha's. Feeling dirty I'm delivering drugs to a shelter, I decide to stop in to see the boys and remind myself the extra money can go to them. I'm not such scum that it's all in vain.

  "I thought I told you to stay the hell away," she snarls at me through the cracked door.

  "I want fucking answers. Who was it that had me jumped? You or Brie?"

  "You were jumped 'cause you're in the wrong hood. Leave me the fuck alone." Before she can close the door, I move my foot to block it.

  "I told Rupe I'd look out for you and his kids."

  "Rupe played you. Don't you fucking get it? He played you so you'd come pay for his kids and his brother could keep getting money out of you. Damn, boy, you're not that dumb. Get lost, okay?" She's staring into my face with a begging expression but her words harshly project from her mouth. "Before you get hurt."

  "Listen to me. Are you in trouble?" I whisper, trying to look into the dim living room.

  "I can't help you out. I'm doing this shit so you don't end up dead." Her tone is calmer and she tries to walk away but I grab the door with my hand.

  "I can overpower you and get inside the house, Iesha. Just answer."

 
"I told you to stay the hell away. You were used." The door slams but she's not the one that pushed it and I realize whatever trouble she's in, they were behind the door.

  "Fuck." I exhale and pull my phone out as I get into the Durante truck.

  "Speak," Rory answers.

  "I need your help. Your cop friend's help," I mumble as my stomach twists because I'm calling for Nyla's husband's help.

  "What's up? You alright?"

  "I'm fine. It's a friend. At the same house as before—"

  "Dom," he huffs. "I told you to stay out of that neighborhood.

  "Yeah well, I didn't. My friend lives here with two little boys and I know she's in some fucked up—" Gun fire cuts my sentence short and I duck.

  "Sestak?" Rory snaps into the phone.

  "Fuck. They're shooting at the truck. Rory, I need some fucking cops here now. Call your friend and have him send a unit or two. If I call the cops, it'll be two hours. Please, man, please," I beg while laying across the bench of the truck.

  "Dom, get the fuck out of there right now."

  "Please call your friend!" I beg.

  "I'm calling him, I'm calling! Get the hell out of there!"

  Still laying down, I start the box truck and put it in drive, not sitting up until I'm rolling away from the house. Then I floor it to get the hell away from here as fast as I can.

  I wait around the block, not trusting Rory called, or that cops will show up, but within ten minutes three cars are flying down the street with their lights on. The distance between me and the house is too far to see what's happening so I get out of the truck and walk a few houses down. They're parked in the street taking cover behind the doors of their vehicles and a flashback of Kaitlyn makes me feel sick.

  "Come out with hands up," an officer says over a bullhorn.

  Shots are fired and the cops start retaliating as they rush the house. Fear drains the blood from my face and I start running for the house.

  "There's kids in there!" I scream over and over. When I'm too close, I'm taken to the pavement by a cop but I don't stop repeating the words, "There are kids in the house."

  The agonizing screaming coming from the house is a sound I'll never forget or dismiss, and when I lift my head, I see Iesha running out, covered in blood with a small body in her arms.