Ro
No Such Thing As Peace
Recommended Song: Until the End of Time by Tupac
The sun hadn’t even thoughtabout coming up yet. The Crest was still dark, mist clinging to the air thick enough to chew, streets slick with that mix of rainwater, oil, and lies. I was dead asleep on the couch, boots still on, gun tucked under my thigh, when the first crack of gunfire ripped through the window.
Glass burst over me like diamonds I didn’t pay for. I rolled, hand already on my piece, heart punching my ribs hard enough to bruise. Tarnesha screamed from the bedroom, that sharp, panicked sound that wakes every muscle faster than coffee ever could.
“Ro!” she hollered, voice breaking as another round shredded through the blinds.
“Stay low!” I barked, crawling across the floor, head ducked as plaster snowed down from the walls. I yanked open the bedroom door, grabbing her by the arm. Her Sidekick clattered to the floor as I pulled her down behind the dresser, both of us breathing like we’d been running miles.
The smell of gunpowder was thick already, mixing with the stale scent of last night’s takeout and cheap candles Tarnesha swore helped her sleep. My R1 was parked outside, and the sound of the engine cooling mixed with that gut-wrenching pop of bullets tearing rubber.
“Stay down, Neesh. Don’t move,” I ordered, peeking through a shattered piece of blinds. Headlights flashed low, a black Civic sliding off slow into the fog like a snake that knew it already bit its prey.
The street outside was waking up—neighbors yelling in Spanish, somebody’s pit barking like it was part of the alarm system. A baby cried next door. That was Lyon Crest for you—gunshots at dawn and life just kept moving.
Tarnesha was trembling hard enough to shake the floorboards. I crouched next to her, hand gripping her jaw. “You good?” I muttered. She nodded, lips pressed tight, eyes wide.
“I ain’t never—” she whispered, voice shaking.
“I know. Just breathe. It’s over,” I told her, sliding my Glock back into my waistband.
But it wasn’t over. It was a message.
“What the hell was that, Ro?” she choked out, voice cracking like she’d been holding her breath too long. “You got me movin’ out here for this?!” Her eyes darted toward the window, her chest heaving. “I told you I didn’t wanna be back in the Crest. I told you!”
“Keep your voice down,” I growled, crouching lower, scanning the room with quick, sharp glances. My pulse was still running hot, like my body was two steps ahead of my brain. “You want ‘em to double back? Let’s not put up a sign that says, ‘Finish the job.’”
She pressed her back against the wall, tears cutting through her mascara. “This ain’t normal! I ain’t never—Ro, they shot at us like we was already dead.” Her hands shook, clutching herhoodie tight like it could shield her from what just happened. “Why are we even here? Why you got me hidin’ out in this city? I could’ve stayed in Oakland, been chillin’ at my mama’s!”
I exhaled hard, running a hand over my face. My palm came away dusted with drywall. “You think I planned this, Neesh? You think I wanted you in this?” My voice was rougher than I meant it to be, but my patience was thin. “I came back ‘cause this block got my blood all over it, and you came ‘cause you didn’t wanna be left behind. Now you here, and this is what it is.”
“What it is?” she spat, disbelief slicing through her fear. “This ain’t what I signed up for, Ro! I knew you was in some street mess, but this? They tryin’ to kill you!”
“They been tryin’,” I muttered, pulling back the curtain just enough to watch the street. Nothing but mist and a couple porch lights flickering. “This ain’t new.”
She scoffed, folding her arms, her nails digging into her sleeves. “You sound crazy. You sittin’ here all calm while I’m over here thinkin’ I just saw my whole life flash in front of me.”
I turned, finally locking eyes with her. Her fear was loud, but underneath it was a different look—one I’d seen before. Doubt. Regret. “You scared?” I asked.
“Hell yee I’m scared!” she shot back, tears spilling now. “I don’t wanna die, Ro. Not for you, not for this block, not for whatever beef you got with whoever’s ridin’ around shootin’ up windows!”
I crouched in front of her, resting a hand on her knee. “You ain’t gon’ die. Not on my watch. Not while you under my roof.”
“Your roof got holes in it now,” she snapped bitterly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “You don’t even look shook. Like this is just… Tuesday for you.”
“’Cause it is,” I bit back, voice low but sharp. “This is Crest life. This is what it look like when you tied to somethin’ bigger than you.”
She looked away, chewing her lip, knuckles white as she clutched her hoodie. “You sound just like every dude I swore I’d never mess with,” she whispered, voice trembling but laced with venom. “And now I’m sittin’ here, duckin’ bullets, ‘cause I thought maybe you was different.”
Her words stung, but I didn’t let it show. “I am different,” I muttered, checking my Glock again, sliding in a fresh mag. “Different don’t mean safe.”
She flinched at the metallic click. “You not even gonna call the cops?”
“What they gon’ do, Neesh?” I scoffed. “Fill out a report, take some pictures, ask me who I pissed off? Half of ‘em already know. Some of ‘em probably the ones who tipped it off.”
