Five Steps Ahead

THREE

"You look scared," He said. "You were trying to spy on me, but you blew your cover."

I didn't exactly know the calm and correct way to respond to him. All I could think about was that I shouldn't have come here alone; I needed Brittany.

"You don't need to be scared," He sat my badge on the table in front of him. "However, for future references, if you want to spy on somebody, leave your badge at home. It fell out from under your shirt when I grabbed your arm."

I nodded while seeming to calm down just a bit. He knew before our conversation even started who I really was.

"You must think I'm a part of a gang, right?" He asked while starting to ramble for his keys.

I kept quiet just in case I might offend him or not answer the way he'd want me to.

"You're right," He started. "The business I was referring to is a mafia I started here in Peoria. I'm the leader of it. We do bad things, but for a good cause."

"Okay," I muttered.

"People refer to us as the NSG. We're hired to kill for emotional benefit. Like if you had a sister, and someone killed your sister, you would hire us to kill the murderer. However, we only make our killings at night. Our cover is safer when the sunsets. The Night Street gang." He conversed tranquilly while looking down at the table at a classic swisher that he just pulled from his back pocket.

"What if the person you need to kill is a friend of yours," I asked, concerned.

He laughed. "NSG, don't make friends. When somebody pays you money to get a job done, you do it. I tell my people all the time: Either you kill or get killed."

He pulled out a one-dollar bill from his back pocket once again and asked, "What do you see?"

"A one-dollar bill," I answered softly.

"Look again," Joe demanded.

"A one-hundred-dollar bill," I quickly responded.

"A one-dollar bill does not hold even twice the value of a one-hundred-dollar bill. It's nothing compared to it. When someone is murdered, and the criminal is put in prison for it, the victim's family still has to live with the hurt and the pain. Is it behind the loss of their relative, or is it the fucked up thought that the killer will one day be walking the streets free again?" Joe grew angered, "What about those who seek instant revenge on that bastard? Those who want ACTUAL justice. Those who want that piece of shit of a dollar bill to feel like a hundred?"

"What about the flipping of the money?" I questioned while partially frightened but sticking to why I'm here in the first place.

"I usually pay my members up to a G to do a job. Once the job is completed, I charge the customer three times what I paid my member. I'm not losing any money, and neither are my members. We do this every day" He smiled.

"How are you so comfortable telling me this?" I asked.

"Because if you snitch, I'll kill you." He answered calmly while blowing smoke into my face. "I also need something from you.

"I began coughing as the smoke filled my lungs and scrunched my eyebrows in response, hoping that what he needed from me was nothing sexually related.

"I've been accused of sexual assault. In jail, the black community doesn't treat a man nice when they find out he's there for disrespecting our women. I'm not a big fan of that either. That's why I didn't do it." He stared deeply into my eyes, so I knew that he meant business.

"This is your way of making me believe that you're innocent? Why would she accuse you of sexual assault?" I folded my arms.

"She showed up to my house, her and two other girls, asking me for swishers and gars. If I'm not mistaken, they were all already loaded. When they first approached my house, I told them they looked beautiful, and I wasn't on no freaky shit. I was just being polite. They were white, and I didn't need to be seen as a threat to them. Then, they asked for gars, and I told them the only gar I had left was the one in my mouth, and it would only be enough for one of them," He shrugged.

"I can definitely see how that was misinterpreted, considering they were already under the influence," I laughed.

"Well, it wouldn't have been had they focused on the first half of my statement." He sighed.

"So I'm supposed to do all of this for you as a favor for free?" I started. "Lawyers cost money."

"Yea, and this cost your life. Hopefully, it's valuable enough that we can follow through with this." He rose from the table.

"Where are you going?" I called out.

"You'll know when we get there," He exited the store.

I kicked the table in frustration and disappointment. How could I be so careless to bring evidence of my profession to a secret investigation!? At this point, the money exchange case needed to be put on hold for the sexual assault case. I needed 100% hard work and dedication to succeed and live. Literally!