"It's just my humble opinion
But it's one that I believe in
You don't deserve a point of view
If the only thing you see is you"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chris

My eyes are stuck on the screen. Morgan's just tagged me in a picture I took of her over the weekend. We went for a picnic, she was surprised it was my idea, but she deserved it. I laid out all of her favorites: cupcakes, pineapple, turkey sandwiches cut into triangular halves, and a gallon of Chick-fil-a lemonade.

She's angelic. Easily the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. Look at them, they're hypnotizing. In the picture, they're the greenest I've ever seen them.

There's a glow about her, we both know where it's coming from. I still haven't asked her about the pregnancy, yet, though. I want to respect her and be patient. When it's the right time, I trust she'll tell me and then everyone else. Perhaps just because of everything from the past, and since it's so so early, she just wants to keep it to herself. You know, probably to not jinx anything.

I'm hoping it'll go by smoothly, she shouldn't have to struggle anymore with anything. Not that I can control, anyway. I want the best for her.

She's changed the course of my life in a major way, made things easier.
She pushes me to be my best self and wants better for me. Also, I've never felt anyone love me as hard as Morgan. The way she loves me motivates me to get up and do something great everyday.
Jesus, how fucking corny is that? Never expected that shit to come to my mind at all about any woman. Still not complaining, though.

I leave a comment and see that she's pinned it at the top of the other thousand plus replies:

📌ChrisVaughn_ "Finally" is crazy 😒 u cute tho
ChrisVaughn_ 😍😍😍😍😍
↪️ JackJack_gamer01  Is she single yet?😍 jk😂
Prettygirljas That's my best friend 🤩
JBFlamer Lil sis pressure 😮‍💨
Vaughn.Mary_ WOW BABE🥰🥰 I love you!! And I need that bag haha
Kailyn.gram__    Morgan!! Ilysm you're a Barbie!🤩🤩🤩 texting you for outfit details rn
MrsYaraAdams1990 Pretty pretty girl! We miss you!
_KelseyBennettRealty_   That's MY daughter🤗 #shegetsitfromhermomma
__Izzyisdizzy Brb crying cuz ur so hot
LeexSun 🔥🔥🔥
Prettygirlsofinsta✅ Can we repost this?😍
Load 1,087 more. . .

I scroll to another and just stare, thinking about how lucky I am.

I stop reading the comments. I've learned that lesson the hard way. Morgan's a "hot commodity" as my mother put it, so it figures that she has a million followers and they all love her, guys and girls alike.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I pick my head up from my phone and see Beck entering.

"How's it going, Vaughn?" He asks me.

"There was one more person on the interview list." He tells me, not looking up from his second phone.

I draw out a long breath through my nostrils and stare at him unexpectedly.

"Man, I'm not interested-"

"This person's actually worked here before. Someone by the name of..."

"Sabrina." We say at the same time. Lucky guess.

Once he confirms with a shocked look on his face, I hang my head.

"Familiar?" He pops an eyebrow at me.

"Can I see her chart?" I snap for the files in his hand.

He hands it over. "Should I call to set up an appointment?"

"Please don't."

Beck throws his hands up. "That's quite the head shot she submitted, eh?"

I scowl at Beck looming over me at my desk as I flip through the paperwork.

The head shot he's referring to is a photo of Sabrina that's far from professional.
She's fucking with me, sent this in on purpose. I don't know her goal here, seduction is off the table, there's nothing appealing about this woman. If you can even call her that.
She's in lingerie, looking cheap per usual, with seemingly neon pink lipstick. I hate bright lipstick.

I feel sick to my stomach, seeing the lengths Sabrina is continuing going to.
Coming for my job is taking it too far.
Hell, after all she's done, and her father, that family should be banned from stepping foot anywhere near this office.

Though, I relax when I remind myself that she's fled the country. Although, I'll need Annette to update me immediately on that so I make a mental note to text her as soon as Beck is not hovering over my shoulder.

My phone rings. I recognize the unsaved number ending in 8561.
I reach to answer it but pause while Beck watches me.

"Do you mind?" I growl at him. "Damn."

He chuckles, walking around my desk. "Who is it?"

When I don't dignify him with a response, Beck turns on his heels. "I'll leave you to it, then," he says in an almost suspicious voice. If I didn't know that he's just weird, I would've given his tone more thought, but it's Beck Jordan.

"Hello?" I speak in the phone once my door clicks shut.

Beck's standing on the other side of the glass, just smirking. I spin in the office chair to get him out of my sight and hope he's not there when I turn back around.

"I knew you'd pick up the phone, mister Vaughn." Her voice sends me into a rage, the cockiness and entitlement behind it.

"Bitch, listen to me-"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

~~~

Talking to Sabrina made me think about her sister. I wonder how's she doing, what she's been up to? Well, other than the drugs. It was a sad sight to see, Cleo begging for drugs like that. Those men who were selling to her, teasing her, and encouraging this habit, they make me sick.

I don't particularly feel anything for Cleo, other than bad. I hate her for how she talked to Morgan and the way she's completely ignored me basically since I moved back, but I still remember how she was when we first met. I don't think she's all bad. Or maybe that's my problem.

I should let her rot. Why should I give a fuck, we're not friends anymore? Yet, here I am, wanting to play Captain save-a-crackhead.

If my father wasn't a drunk and I didn't have to watch my Mom pick his unresponsive body off of the pavement so many times maybe I wouldn't be so compassionate. Funny, I've never given myself that character trait before.

Some woman holds the door open for me and I thank her before stepping inside to escape the rain.

Cleo better be happy to see me, too, I'm skipping lunch for this and I'm starving. It's okay, though, dinner will make up for it; Morgan and I are meeting Izzy and Lee at this Moroccan restaurant, I can't wait, I've already looked at the menu and memorized my order.

"Chris, hey! Long time, no see, man." The receptionist says to me.

"Marvin, hey." I approach his desk.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, sliding palms with mine.

I shrug. "Goin' up to see Cleo."

Marvin animates his dark face. "Uh, haven't you heard?"

I stop from walking towards the elevator and ask, "Heard what?"

Marvin anxiously scratches his chin stubble. "She, uh, moved out; couldn't afford to live here anymore."

"What? Her family's rich."

"They stopped funding her."

"What about her sister?"

"You mean Sabrina?" He tests me, knowing I know her name. Unfortunately, he was witness to me sneaking in this lobby one late night to meet up with her.

"I mean what I said. Where is she, weren't they staying together?"

Marvin hunches his shoulders. "Cleo's got it bad. They had a pretty big argument and Sabrina left her high and dry. I believe she's-"

"Out of the country, yeah, I know." I begin to pace. "Any idea where I can find Cleo?"

Marvin thinks hard for a second. Then, he snaps his fingers with a memory. "She did tell me where you can find her."

~

It took me longer than anticipated to arrive to this destination. My 'Maps' app didn't recognize it.
When I park and see the looks of this place, it makes sense why - it's abandoned.

The note reads:

12070 Washington drive

This is it, I think in my head.

With a deep breath, I check my glove compartment for my pocket knife and brass knuckles —all that was in my car to serve as a weapon— then hop out of my Tesla.

I turn my location off in case Morgan gets bored and decides to check, knowing I'm supposed to be on my lunch break.

My phone rings and that has me on edge instinctively. I turn the volume down and whisper a "hello?" After all she's put me through, I think it's Sabrina.

"Hey, Bill?" Some person talks on the other end.

I curl my face. "Nah, this isn't Bill." I distort my voice just to be safe.

"Oh, sorry, wrong number." He says and hangs up.

Whew.

Yeah, after Sabrina's call earlier, I changed my number. I had been avoiding doing so because I've had the same one forever and there's so many contacts that have that number, but it's time.
No more phone calls from Sabrina means one less thing to worry about.

I maneuver through the debris and follow the music to a back room where a light is on.
Through the hole in the door where a doorknob should go, I can see four men surrounding Cleo. She's on a mattress, stripping for them.

One guy in a white tank top drops his pants to his ankles, he has the deadly white substance in a bag and is shaking it in her face, teasing.

I can't watch.

But I have to.

Damn do I wish I had a gun, though. Who the fuck do I think I am? Jason Statham?

I see one guy drop to the floor. Druggie.

That leaves three. I can take them, but I don't want to have to.

"—I said beg, bitch." The half-naked man raises his voice at Cleo.

The other two just laugh and watch. They look like they're expecting something and that thought makes me sick.

I can't take another second of this.

"Everybody, hands on the floor!" I bust in like the police.

I put my hand on my hip as if there's a gun on my belt and they seem to buy it.

Everyone drops and does as I say while I make my way over to Cleo on the bed.

She's tying a band around her arm and searching for the drugs.

I had hoped this was some cocaine but I see that it's not. A slither of hope escapes me but I keep my focus on the goal of getting Cleo out of here.

I speak into my shoulder like it's a walkie-talkie there, it's dark so they can't see me, plus their heads are down.

"I've got four males: two black, two white, and one Caucasian female. Over." I have to keep up the policeman act.

"Copy that. Alright, you four are going to get in that little Honda out there and stay the fuck away from her. Got it?" I instruct.

The three of them stand and scurry to the door but the toughest one pulls his pants up and has his posse gather the one who's passed out.

"Chris?" Cleo recognizes me, blowing this cover that I've done a good job at.

The biggest guy then stops and looks at me. "Man, you ain't no real cop." He says, lunging towards me.

I see him start to reach for something in his pants so I react with a fist across his face.

I don't mean to knock him out. Anyway, it was self-defense.

"Oh, shit, we gotta go!" One of the fiends panics.

I confiscate the gun from their leader and pick him up once he's conscious.

"Yo, chill, let me go. Let me go!" His voice trembles with fear. He's not so tough now.

"I said beg, bitch." I repeat his own words, pointing the gun at his head.

He shuts his bloodshot eyes, accepting his fate, but I let him go. I'm no killer.

"Get the fuck out of here. Now." I order, sending them scurrying out of the abandoned house.

Once I see four bodies get inside of the gold 2012 Honda and it pulls off, I aim to throw the gun across the room but figure it's better to keep it. Just in case. . .

Cleo's already injected herself when I face her.

She lets out a breath and settles onto the piss-stained mattress.

"Shit, Cleo," I fret. "I'm going to help you. Come on-"

"Don't touch me!" She screams, threatening to stab me with the same needle she's just used.

I back away carefully with an uneasy feeling of defeat.

"Don't try to care now. You don't give a shit or a fuck about me," she sputters, stumbling backwards.

I just watch her deteriorate before my eyes.

"S-Sabrina," she pauses for a beat, slipping further away from sobriety, "she has a plan. And she's going to get you back."

That's all she says before turning into a living corpse right then and there.

I hang my head and wonder what my mother would do in this situation.

If I were a better person, I'd take her somewhere. But I'm not. I also don't want to risk those guys coming to look for her. I can't get involved with any shit like this right now.

As each second passes, I feel like I'm running out of time.
All I can do is write my new phone number on the sticky note from earlier and push it into her forehead. She doesn't feel, or hear, a thing.

At least I know where she is, I tell myself. I'll come back and check on her if she's still here in the morning.

Before going, I take a plastic Walmart bag and use it as a glove to pick up the needle, spoon, and the rest of the crack in the baggie to throw that shit out.

I walk the perimeter of the house first and then get into my car once I assure there's no sign of those men.

***

"—Mom?" Ten-year-old me pulls on my mother's arm as she signs for a delivery from the mailman. More balloons. More cake. More people.

"Yes, baby?" She asks me, pushing me towards the kitchen where she continues to help Grandma Lena with the food.

"He'll be here any second." My Godfather, MJ, announces after taking a phone call.

I watch Mom fix her curls and look into a compact mirror to apply more red lipstick.

"Why do we always have to have a party when he comes home?" I inquire, looking around at all of the family members waiting with us. It's more people than last time. They actually look excited this time, too.

"To see Daddy, baby. Don't you want to?" Mom smiles at me, lifting my chin.

I twist my mouth. "Not really. Why did he go away again?"

"Um," her voice cracks. "Daddy drinks a lot. And he went away to work on that so we can be a big, happy family again."

"But we already are a big, happy family without him - me, you, and Uncle Malcolm. Daddy messes everything up." I fold my arms.

"Christopher Omar, that's enough." She grits her coffee-stained teeth.

"Mary..." my grandmother warns.

"It's true," I rant, "he just comes home and yells at you and shows up to my basketball games and fights everybody. It's not fair. Why does he have to drink so goddamn much?"

A hand strike across my face teaches me to watch my mouth. It also teaches me to never speak bad about her husband in front of her again. Not in front of guests, anyway.

Gasps from my close and extended family make my mother caress my cheek and pull me outside on the porch.

"Your father has a problem. He's sick, do you get that, or no? Your job is to be strong and welcome him back happily. I don't want to hear anymore complaints from you, okay? That is your father. He loves us very much and is trying to get better." She makes clear. Her Colombian accent is a lot thicker when she's angry, it's really all I can focus on as she tries to scold me.

I nod my head and try to let that sink it but it's just goes in one ear and out the other like always.

Cousin Tony walks up the outside steps with a brown paper bag in his hand. He's all smiles but my mother looks at him coldly.

"Tony, why the hell would you bring that here? He's sober, you asshole. Give it here and go in the house, he'll be here any second. Go. GO!" She yells at him, shooing him away once she's confiscated the brown paper bag.

It's him.

"Honey!" She gasps and runs down the steps to jump into his open arms.

He looks the same only not really. I know he's Carter Vaughn, husband of Mary Martinez, but I can't get excited about his arrival. Not again.
What's this, the third time?

As they hug, he just looks at me.

"Chris, how are you, son?" Dad lifts my chin.

When I don't reply, he says, "I love you, son," and walks inside after Mom.

A hand on my shoulder makes me look up to see who it is.

"You're not a bad person for being mad at him, Chris. It's not your fault he couldn't put down the drink, don't beat yourself up about it. Your mother, she's the saint here. If I was half the person she is— well, if I was half the person she is, I wouldn't be in the business I'm in. People who get addicted to things are weak. They're here to make people like me rich. If they want to kill themselves, I say let 'em. All you have to do, nephew, is keep your nose clean. Got that? Way I see it is, you and I, we're saints. Me giving these drugs to those fiends is keeping them alive, they'll just die without it. Hey, stop crying, you're a fucking good person, remember that. Now come on, I have to make a few deals in Denver, if I have you with me, the cops won't suspect anything."