The Friend

Rodney

While Rodney was getting ready to head to work, he kept glancing at Derek, who was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. This was the fourth day his older brother was home—all day. Normally, Rodney always had the house to himself.

"Hey," Rodney said.

"What?" Derek asked.

"Are you okay? You've been home more than usual," Rodney said.

"So?"

"I'm just wondering," he replied.

Derek turned around and eyed him, "Don't you have to go to work or something? Work all day to earn that lousy paycheck?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and grabbed his stuff, heading out.

***

The first break Rodney got during work, he headed straight to the deli for something to eat. He strolled around, looking for some water after ordering a sandwich. The deli wasn't that crowded, only a few other people were around.

After getting his food, he pulled out his wallet to pay, overhearing some guys speaking not too far away from him. They were no older than Rodney.

"Did you hear what happened to Joel?" the first guy asked.

"Joel, who's that?" the other asked.

"You know, Joel, that bum that use to hang around 149th on Broadway."

"Hm, Joel, Joel, Joel..."

"Nigga use to wear slides, a tan shirt and black jeans."

As the guy described him, the bum popped up in Rodney's mind. That same bum used to always bother Derek. The last Rodney had seen him was when he followed after those other two guys.

"Oh, I know who you talking about," the guy said.

"That was one of the niggas that got shot the other day. You know, the accident that had man people outside. Cops and ambulances were everywhere. He was shot like five times in the chest. Didn't make it to the hospital. Bro was dead on the spot," the first guy spoke.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that shit. Wasn't it like two other people that got murdered too?"

"Yeah, but I don't know the other guys. I don't think they were from around here...but they dead, too."

A chill swept through Rodney. Could it have been those two guys that ended up selling to that bum the day Rodney saw them? It couldn't be.

"That's fucking crazy. I wondered who did it," the other guy said.

"Do you think cops will find the person?"

"I have no idea, but I'm staying my ass indoors until further notice," the guy said, singing that last word.

In a daze, Rodney paid for his food and took his things. He couldn't feel his fingers. He exited the store as the two men continued talking.

Three men where dead, shot carelessly. Who could've done it and why?

Rodney grew cold and he felt like passing out. When will he wake himself up? This had to have been a dream.

There was only one person who controlled these streets of Harlem on the west side. One who he alone knew could've had a motive and did this.

***

He needed to stay calm. He didn't know the full story, but he shouldn't jump to conclusions and think that his brother...his brother might've—no, no, no. Derek was a narcissistic asshole, but he wasn't crazy. Besides, Derek could fight and had people to back him up in fights. He wasn't an idiot. He didn't have to go that far.