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“And every day after.” Luce’s voice has both of our heads spinning in his direction. He steps up beside Lexi, throwing his arm over her shoulders as he lights a joint, his eyes on the dying flames.
We stand there, my eyes on the rivulets of water sliding down the street like an inner-city river, some of the neighborhood kids playing in the puddles as their parents yell at them from their stoops. Other shop owners speak with police, answering their questions, but knowing Luce, no one saw a thing.
“You’re a real Picasso, Luce.” Lexi says softly, her eyes glittering with the glow of the stubborn flames.
Luce chuckles, passing me the joint, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetness.”
She shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek as she stares at the building where she was held. I can tell she’s trying to be brave, but the memories are too strong to just bury inside.
I’ll need to have a conversation with her about this soon; she buried her true feelings, focusing on me and Luce’s mental health rather than herself, and I know from experience that bottling up strong emotions will only lead to self-destruction.
“You know, there’s something beautiful about life burning us,” she looks up at me, her eyes tightening at my words, “it feels like shit, but it’s the same way a smith uses the heat of flames to strengthen gold…life’s flames refine us.” I look back up at the building, “Let it harden you, baby. Then act on your revenge.”
“It’s best served hot.” Luce adds.
Our eyes land on the spray-painted message Luce left on the bricks on the storefront, the big, bold white words too brilliant against the burnt stone to miss.
WE’RE COMING FOR YOU.
We lost Maxine, but we have each other, and Alan has gained enemies he’ll wish he had never touched.
