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Los Angeles, California
FRENCH NOTICED ENRIQUE LONGINGLYwatching his pool in the backyard. He'd been fixated on it the entire day. French placed his glass cup on the marble table with a firm thud, startling the ten year old and making him look at the owner of the house.
"My pool is not for you, don't go in it." He said, sternly.
Honestly speaking, he had no reason he didn't want the child swimming. He just didn't want the kid in his damn pool. He was already uncomfortable with them being in his house. He was doing enough as it was by protecting them and that was all he needed to do. He wasn't here to be courteous. Once he killed the Italian mob members, back off to the streets they were going.
Enrique didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He'd been pretty bored here these last few days. Of course because of his new circumstances he wasn't allowed to text friends or update his social media. There wasn't much to do besides watch tv in the room he shared with his mom or surf the Internet. He damn sure didn't go anywhere else in the house.
French went into the fridge and pulled out a tray of eggs, sausage links, and some peppers and onions. He set it next to his toast and butter. Enrique sure missed Omari and couldn't wait until this was all over.
"Did you catch the bad guys yet?" He asked. He knew he probably wasn't suppose to be asking that because he was a child. But he was the one to help translate most their conversations, so he wasn't oblivious to what was going on.
French looked over his shoulder at the kid. "If I did you wouldn't be here."
"What do you do, for a living I mean."
"I mind the business that pays me."
Enrique furrowed his eyebrows. "It was just a question."
French narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder. "Why don't you go feed your little brother or something."
"He can't eat normally." Enrique said in a tone that suggested it was the obvious.
"Well go teach him how. Some retarded people learn to live and function like normal people if you teach them."
"My brother's not retarded!" Enrique yelled, banging the counter. He shocked even himself and his mother who came strolling into the kitchen.
What's going on? Inola signed to her son.
This dumb guy just called Joshua retarded! I hate it here I wish we can go home! He signed angrily, tears in his eyes as he got up and left his cereal. He wasn't even hungry anymore. He flew up the stairs two at a time and slammed the room door.
