He had sad eyes. Levi couldn’t make out the color, but he could see the dread in them, the hollowness, the resignation. Levi knew it well. He saw it in the mirror most mornings. It spurred something in him, this sort of deep-seated rage that simmered just beneath his skin. He fucking hated bullies. He hated people who used their size or money or influence to force their will on someone else. It made him want to hurt someone.
As he watched, the kid wiped the blood from his nose. Was this a lover’s quarrel? Domestic abuse? The thought of them as a couple turned his stomach, but the kid wasn’t any trick Levi had ever seen around. And the older guy certainly didn’t run any pros in this area. Jericho wouldn’t allow it. If people wanted to sell their bodies, they did it on their own terms. No pimps allowed.
Levi wanted to interject. He wanted to jump up and put himself between the soft boy and this much bigger guy, but he knew it would only make it worse for the kid if they were in a relationship. Eventually, he’d have to go home and Levi knew with a sick sense of certainty that the next beating would be ten times worse. The boy seemed to know it, too.
He was obviously used to being this guy’s punching bag. He hadn’t defended himself, hadn’t blocked the blows. He hadn’teven flinched away. He just stood there and let the man hit him in the face. Twice.
The man shoved the kid towards the double doors again, this time slapping him on the back of the head as he pointed aggressively. Levi’s stomach sloshed as he realized what was about to happen. He took in the boy’s oversized hoodie, the reluctant expression. Levi knew it well, having seen it a dozen times. That piece of shit was sending that poor kid in there to rob the place.
Christ, he hated this job.
Levi looked around at the four cameras—two on his left side facing the doors and two directly in front of him above the coolers on the back wall. There was no way this boy wouldn’t get caught. They always got caught. For nothing. There was never more than a hundred bucks in the till, tops, even on weekends. Sometimes, Levi wondered if people just wanted to go to jail for a safe place to sleep for the night. It was the only thing that made sense. Desperation bred creativity.
The bell dinged as the boy pulled open the door and stepped inside, his hood now up. There was a smear of blood on his cheek, which was already an angry red and starting to swell. The boy’s gaze jerked to him, then away, before he stepped into an aisle where he probably thought Levi couldn’t see him.
But he could. The camera monitors were on the second shelf out of view from customers but directly in front of Levi. He could look all he wanted. Now that the boy was closer, Levi could see he wasn’t as young as he’d thought, maybe Levi’s age—possibly a year or two younger, but not a kid.
Levi’s reluctant thief was cute in that teen heartthrob kind of way. His chocolate curls were springy and hung in his eyes. He had golden skin, full lips, and a mole that sat just to the right side of his frowning mouth. Even with the swelling, he was still pretty, almost feminine.
Levi sighed. He really didn’t want to send someone that cute to jail. He wouldn’t last long there. Maybe he could bribe him with whatever money he had? He’d done it before. Usually, only with the unhoused. It was hard to get tweakers to focus long enough to take a deal.
The boy didn’t look like the typical addict, but hewasgrowing agitated with each passing second. He had his hands in his pockets and he was pacing, talking to himself. Was he giving himself a pep talk? Trying to convince himself he could rob the place?
Levi looked outside, but the real culprit was gone. Of course, he was. What kind of chicken shit let someone else do their dirty work for them? The kind that beat the shit out of someone outside a convenience store in the middle of the night, clearly.
Levi shook his head, his gaze dropping back to the cameras. Unease trickled down his spine like icy water as he saw the boy pull something from his pocket. It was still obscured by his side, but Levi knew it was a weapon.
Luckily, the cameras didn’t.
While therewerefour cameras, the back right camera had been down for months, and despite the frequency with which they were robbed, Levi’s cheapskate boss hadn’t felt any sense of urgency about getting it repaired.
The cameras had never been the deterrent the owner thought they’d be when he installed them. If anything, all they did was help the cops and the insurance company when he filed his many, many claims. At this rate, he likely made more off the insurance money than the actual store itself. He’d told Levi a dozen times that there was no point throwing good money after bad.
Levi’s heart tripped as the boy seemed to come to some internal decision, finally stepping free from the aisle, a gun in his right hand. His very shaky right hand. He was sweating. Rivuletsrolled from his hairline, joining the tears that already stained his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, like he’d spent too much of his night crying.
Levi dropped his feet to the ground, then stood slowly. He didn’t want to spook the kid. He didn’t reach for the shotgun leaning against the wall or the panic button beneath the counter. Instead, he fixed the kid with a patient look and said, “Look, I know you don’t want to rob the place. How about I just give you fifty bucks and you go tell that piece of shit who sent you in here that it was all the money in the till? Deal?”
The boy blinked at him, voice dull as he asked, “What?”
Levi smiled, lifting his hands in the air. “I said, you don’t have to do this. You’re going to end up in jail, and for what? Some loser guy who sent you to do his dirty work for him? You’re way too cute for that shit. If that’s your boyfriend, you need to dump him.”
“He’s my brother,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“Oh,” Levi said. Nobody understood fucked-up family dynamics better than him. “Still, just take the money. I won’t call the cops. I promise there’s not much more in the register.”
Take the deal.
Others had done it. This boy just needed to do it, too.
The boy stumbled closer. “I’m not here for money,” he said, his voice taking on a sharp edge, like he was trying to sound tough. Instead, he sounded strained, like he was seconds away from cracking.
“Then what are you here for?” Levi asked, keeping his tone as soft as possible with his heart hammering against his ribcage. Levi was starting to sweat, too.
He could handle a thief, but a murderer? Was this some kind of gang initiation? If it was, Levi was fucked. He didn’t want to kill this kid.
“Your brother wants me dead?” Levi asked.
It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. When Levi wasn’t in school or working at this shitty store, he was killing people. Bad people like this kid’s brother. His own version of community service—something he’d been doing so long that he’d forgotten there were people in the world who might object. Like the family of someone he killed.
