Thirty: Escaping Trouble

Travis' 

The punch by Fester was only the beginning. It had triggered an unquenchable fury within Mr. Alvarez.

He didn't fail to return his own punch, aiming for Fester's jugular. However, the blow hit his chin.

In a blink of an eye, both men were throwing punches to see who was the greatest.

I wonder if I should keep watching or I should use the moment to just escape instead.

I began taking a few steps backwards to slip away from sight.

“Ugh!” Fester groaned, leaning forward and holding onto his crotch. 

That was freaking nasty.

How could Mr. Alvarez hit on his own brother's balls?

Fester was whining about it. It must have hurt that much, I can imagine.

I was hit once there too when I was in high school. By a ball, not a boy. 

I rolled my eyes.

I had just taken a step out of the door when he voiced, “where do you think you're going?”

“Mr. Alvarez…”

“What?” Both men retorted with an angry gaze and glanced at each other.

That's right, they're both Alvarez's. How could I have missed that.

“I’m sorry sir, but I should really be going now.” I said with a bow.

“Come here.” He commanded, but then Fester attacked him again.

I ran out immediately as the both brothers got into a fight again.

I know I have stayed here for too long and it's bad. 

I mean I left the owner of this body undead, which might implicate me. And his actual bodyguard, who I shot dead anyway, is lying on the street.

I did waste a second anywhere. I just ran straight to the car I got here with.

After getting out of the big warehouse I assume, I took off the mask and threw it away.

After getting into the car, I heaved a sigh of relief and inserted the key.

“What took you so long?” A voice questioned behind me.

I jerked.

It was Carlos.

I didn't turn. I quickly tilted my head forward and adjusted the sunglasses properly. This wouldn't be enough to hide my identity properly, not like the mask.

I've been faking a voice and it's really biting my throat. I don't want to keep this up.

I should probably throw this guy out of this car.

Wait! Did he find Dayton bodyguard attractive and want to fuck him now?

Does this man just have sex with any man with a dick between his legs?

“Drive!” He commanded like he owned the car.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Drive! I want to go see my uncle.”

I don't have time for this.

I began to drive, not wanting to debate anymore with him. I think I know what to do to him.

I stepped on the gas, the engine humming to life as we pulled away from the looming silhouette of the warehouse. The silence inside the sedan was thick, heavy enough to choke on.

In the rearview mirror, Carlos was leaning back against the leather seat, eyes closed, looking like a man who thought he had the entire world dancing on his fingertips. He didn't say another word, and I certainly wasn't going to start a conversation.

My throat felt raw, scratched up from hours of forcing out a low, gravelly voice to match a dead bodyguard's profile. Every breath I took through my nose was a quiet calculation, a steady countdown to when I could finally drop the act.

The dashboard light cast a faint, cold glow over my hands on the steering wheel. I kept my knuckles loose, though every instinct in my body screamed at me to slam on the brakes and drag Carlos out by his collar.

The oversized sunglasses sat heavy on the bridge of my nose, hiding my eyes, but I knew they wouldn't hold up under any real scrutiny. If he looked too closely, if the light hit my jaw line just right, the whole facade would collapse.

So, I prayed for the silence to hold. And it did.

Carlos remained motionless in the back, the rhythm of his quiet breathing the only sound competing with the hum of the tires against the asphalt. He seemed entirely unbothered, content in his assumption that I was just another hired hand following orders, another nameless grunt driving him to his next destination.

He didn't care who was behind the wheel as long as the wheels kept turning.

Outside, the streetlights flickered past in rhythmic bursts of yellow, illuminating the empty stretches of the industrial district. The bodyguard’s body was back there somewhere on the pavement, Dayton was still lying unconscious or worse, and the Alvarez brothers were likely still tearing each other apart over whatever twisted rivalry drove them. A trail of absolute chaos was left in my wake, and yet, sitting in this quiet car, the world felt eerily still.

My eyes flicked to the side mirror, watching the dark road stretching out behind us. I didn't know where Carlos's uncle was, and frankly, I didn't give a damn. We weren't going there anyway. My brain was already mapping out the next move, looking for a quiet, unlit turnoff away from the main thoroughfare. A dark alley, an abandoned lot, anywhere out of sight.

I eased my grip on the wheel, letting a slow, measured breath out between my teeth. Just a few more minutes of quiet. Just a few more blocks. Carlos wanted a ride, but he had no idea where this road was actually ending.

“So, how long have you been working for my uncle?” 

Just what I've been avoiding. A conversation with him.

I keep shut, not saying a damn thing. I'm not going to talk to him.

“I usually visit my uncle, you know, and I've never seen you before? What's your name?”

Who is he trying to fool?

Stanley confirmed that Carlos literally lived in his house before they broke up. And Carlos doesn't look like one who gives a shit about his family. So, how come he visits frequently?

Honestly, I'm trying my best not to be pissed off by his presence in this car, but I am.