No Good For You

I

"You assholes gonna get my shit from Rj or what?" asked B.

We sat in a dimly lit office room. Seven of us at the table. The brothers, three henchmen, and me.

B just stood for Boss. The only people that knew his real name were his family. Whose names we also didn't know. His brothers were Riot and Psycho. Those were the names we called them. Each name is tied to their personalities.
B is the oldest and he runs everything, obviously. He acts more like a father to his brothers than an older sibling.
Psycho is the youngest. He's also my best friend. He's not normal. They don't know what sparked something in him to be the way that he is but you'd think he was playing a psychotic movie villain with the way he acts. He's very sweet though. He's covered in tattoos he mostly did himself. He's very talented, they're all beautiful. Every piercing he did on his own too. The bridge nose piercing (which he rarely wears), his six ear piercings (3 on each), and his nose piercing. He dyes his hair strange colors every so often. It's currently platinum. His voice is smooth and relaxing. Like a massage for the ears.
Riot is the middle child. I can't fucking stand him. He gets into fights because he doesn't know how to use his words like an adult. He's a whore that uses women as playthings, and he and I have a very a different relationship than I and his brothers do. He's also covered in tattoos. His ears are pierced twice on each and he has a snake eye piercing on the top of his tongue. His voice is deep and gravelly. Like...he'd just woken up before every time he speaks.

Each brother is tall, somewhere between 6'3 and 6'5. They each have anger issues. I'll assume they get it from their father. One is worse than the other. Riot is the worst. The slightest thing can and will set him off. Psycho is second. It takes a lot to get him there but when he does get there, you need to leave the room. He does the worst damage. B is last. He gets there fast like Riot but he's calm about it. But you can't expect to wake up the next morning.
They're all beautiful. Women and men continue to swoon when just one of them enters a room. If they enter all together you can expect a few beginning to fan themselves in heat. They each have the most perfect set of pearly white teeth. They're built like Greek gods because working out is how they cope. They command a room when they enter. And they're intense. Terrifying for different reasons. Even if you'd never met them before a day in your life you wouldn't have the bravery to look them in the eye when they speak to you. They aren't triplets but they look alike and have distinct features that make them, them. Not the tattoos or the hair color.

It's in the eyes.

Psycho's doe eyes. He'll speak to you so poetically as he drives a knife into your throat. Those eyes make you feel like everything's okay as if they aren't killing your family right in front of you.
Riot's intense eyes. He isn't the oldest but I'm sure he creates the most fear. He doesn't need to tell people to move out of his way, he looks them in their eyes and they run without a word.
B's tired eyes. He's fatigue from the work of running the gang and you can tell. He wouldn't say it to you though. He'll pretend like he was alright. But in reality he's been an adult for 27 of the 32 years he's been alive. He's exhausted.

All of that, and I have them wrapped around my finger.

"I'll do it." I stated.
They turned and looked at me.
"What?" I wondered.
"You're not going by yourself." Psycho stated.
"Why aren't I?"
"Calm down." Riot said and leaned back in his seat as he lit a cigarette. "You'll still get to do your job. Just not without adult supervision."
"You motherfuckers never let me do this shit on my own." I stated and looked at B.
"Leila..."
"How old am I?" I interrupted B.
He rolled his eyes.
"Answer me, B. How old am I?"
"23." he answered reluctantly.
"So you remember that I'm 23 and you assholes still treat me like a fuckin' baby? I don't need you to act like I need a babysitter. You act like you're not the one that taught me how to fight. You don't trust your own teaching? Your father taught me how to use a gun just like he taught all three of you. Do I look like a child to you?"
"Not at all." said Riot.
I squinted at him.

B sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he looked at me.

They act like they have to babysit me. I'm not a child and I don't like being treated like one. I've known their father since I was born and I've known them since I was 17. Their father is my godfather because he and my dad were best friends.
I wasn't allowed to know the boys because they were doing 'dangerous things' and I was too 'precious and delicate' to be in those surroundings. Then my father passed away of cancer. The boys had already moved out of their dad's house so it was okay that I moved in. I pestered him about what his sons were doing and I finally learned. Then I pestered him to teach me. I learned a bit about how things were run around here and how to use a gun but he refused to teach me how to fight because he "didn't want me in that scene". He said my father wouldn't want that for me so he didn't want that for me either. But he taught me to use a gun because he said there were some crazy motherfuckers in the world. I don't know anybody crazier than his kids.
I met his sons the following Christmas. B was respectful and acted like he was 20 years older than me. Psycho acted like the nice guy you meet when you exchange schools. And Riot just didn't care. I feel like the only reason they were this way was because our dads were friends. If I was anyone else they would have just stared at me with their arms crossed. Probably would have spit in my face and told me to go make them a sandwich. These are not good people.

"That was cute but you're still not goin' alone. They're not gonna touch shit. You can handle it. But I'd have to be one stupid motherfucker to let you out there by yourself." B stated and sat back in his seat.
I looked him in his eyes.
They didn't budge. So it meant he was serious.
"Careful, B. You know she's snappy." Riot mocked and smoked his cigarette with eyes on the table.

"Fine, B." I stood up and began walking towards the door. But not before I took Riot's cigarette from his lips and put it between mine. "But I don't want this one anywhere near me." I slapped Riot on the back of his head.
If I knew I could kick his ass, I would've already.

I walked down the hall towards the elevator.
I soon heard one of the doors open and close behind me.
It wasn't long before my hand was grabbed and I was pulled and slung against the wall.

I looked up at Riot pressing his hand slightly above my head. He took the cigarette back.
"Where you goin'?" he wondered and took a puff.