𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒.

'𝟏𝟎

excuse all mistakes.

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𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐉 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓.
⥊𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘈𝘙𝘚𝘐𝘌, 𝘉𝘙𝘖𝘖𝘒𝘓𝘠𝘕, 𝘕𝘠 ⥊
𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟓, 𝟏𝟐:𝟒𝟏 𝐩.𝐦.
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Harlem bit down on her lip as she sat on the floor of Kaze's office, staring at the sheet of her incomplete spring break packet since she finished doing the job that Kaze gave her to do, which was counting and sorting the money.

Because it was Spring break, all of her younger siblings went to visit their father in Queens, only she and Tribute staying in East New York since their father was busy working like usual.

Harlem intended to hang out with Diamond today, but unfortunately, Kaze had notified Tribute that he needed Harlem for a little while. Knowing her mother was going to get suspicious, she lied and asked to hang out with Diamond, to which her mother gave her the green light.

Nine had come to pick her up from down the block of her project building, blasting 90's music like he normally did whenever she rode with him, and that happened to be most of the time unless Kaze came.

Tapping the sparkly dark blue BIC mechanical pencil against the hardwood floor of the office in a steady rhythm, Harlem gazed at the math problems for a few more seconds before realizing she didn't understand any of them.

I'm not even gonna need it after high school, anyways.

The brown-skinned girl peeled her eyes off of the paper seconds later to glimpse at a black clock that sat up high on the navy blue wall, near a black and white portrait of Malcolm X, ticking in a steady rhythm.  She examined the clock, the time being 12:45 p.m., meaning she had been there for almost 2 hours already.

"Why the fuck you ain't working?" She heard Kaze interrogate loudly behind her, causing her to jump, a frown forming on her face as she turned around to face the older man.

Today, he was dressed in a plain white Tee with dark blue jeans that looked expensive, a pair of Louis Vuitton hightop sneakers, and a watch encrusted with diamonds that sparkled even under the dim lights of the office. A gold chain held a round pendant crusted with larger diamonds rested around his neck and it held a picture of a small girl, and Harlem couldn't help but wonder who she was.

"I was doing my work," Harlem responded softly, biting on her top lip until she tasted blood. "I, um, I finished what you told me to do."

"Why the fuck you sound like you about to cry all the time? If it ain't that you crying over small shit," Kaze conversed, his voice laced with annoyance as he ran his head over the dark spinning waves that covered his head.

Maybe because you're mean to me all the time, egg head.

Harlem shrugged slightly and lowered her attention to her hands, inspecting her red fingertips covered in the small red cuts to avoid the gaze of the rude older man, pulling the sleeves of her grey sweater over her fingers out of habit.

She didn't understand why he was so mean to her when she didn't do anything to him and, as much as she wanted to ask, she didn't.