Gwen and Rafael got to our sides. She eyed me with intrigue.
So. . .why. . .can I keep my gun?
I looked at Gwen, hoping she would give me an explanation. She appeared just as shocked as me.
Bald Head shoved the gun back to me, hitting my stomach with the barrel.
I chose not to complain and simply placed the gun back in my holster inside of my jacket.
Alright. I keep a gun. . .for some reason.
This brought lots of attention my way. All of the big guys now stared at me, sizing me up as if they wanted to ask me for a dance.
None of you boys just got out of jail or anything? Right?
Gwen cleared her throat and walked ahead of us. “It’s this way.”
Rafael got to her side.
The rest of us followed.
Most of the imposing half-brothers and cousins remained on the porch.
However, Bald Head grabbed Timur’s dolly from the four Pansies and pushed it forward.
Where it took several of Rafael’s men to deal with Timur all day, Bald Head only used one hand to move the dolly along. The other hand held a phone. He laughed at something playing on the screen and followed behind us.
Definitely, eating gun powder with their grits.
I looked forward and stepped inside.
Once in the house, first thing that I spotted was a staircase leading up to the next level. The steps were made of a dark wood.
A long hallway flanked the stairs.
We walked down that one.
To the left, an old man sat in front of an outdated TV, eating peanuts and watching a black and white movie. He wore a green and white plaid shirt with suspenders. His hair was slicked back with grease. His glasses sat low on his nose.
We continued forward.
The aroma of delicious food hit my nose. I smelled roasted pork and something sweet that I couldn’t identify.
We took a couple more steps and I spotted a kitchen with three women busy preparing food. One chopped vegetables. The veggies made a soft thunk as the knife hit the cutting board. Another woman stirred this steaming savory mixture in a pot.
The third carved thick slices off a sizzling pig. And I knew it was a pig because it still had the head, snout, tail and all. Usually, I would have been grossed out by the sight, but that knife slid through the meat like it was butter. -The skin was a crispy, golden brown doused in sauce.
My mouth watered.
Not looking up at us, the women chatted and laughed while they worked.
Honestly, I wished I could just go in there and keep them company. Although various ages, I would have given this dick to all three of them. There was nothing sexier than a woman who could cook her ass off.
Gwen took us further down the hallway and then pointed to a door. “This is as far as I will go.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because this isn’t about me.”
I crossed my arms. “I need more of an explanation.”
Gwen smirked.
Rafael gazed my way. “Are you scared, Maxwell?”
“Hell yeah. I’m scared. Any man that said he wasn’t, isn’t a man at all.”
Gwen gave me a beautiful smile.
Rafael saw that and scowled my way.
Jean-Pierre shook his head and whispered, “Obstacles, Maxwell. Please, leave it alone.”
Then, the door opened by itself. A loud creak sounded. I didn’t see anyone near it.
So. . .who opened it?
There looked to be some dark stairs that went down just past the door.
Anyone going to comment on the creepy door?
Rafael kissed Gwen’s cheek. “I’ll be back.”
She blushed.
He whispered something in her ear in French.
She widened her eyes in embarrassment and then turned away as if not wanting anyone to see the reaction she had.
Rafael chuckled to himself and went down the stairs. Jean-Pierre and Boris followed.
I stayed there and looked at Gwen. “So. . .”
She blinked. “Yes?”
“Is the door electronic or something?”
“What do you mean?”
“It opened on its own.”
“That’s just how the house is. It does what it wants.”
“Uh. . .what do you mean it does what it wants?”
Bald Head growled next to Timur shivering on the dolly. “Get down into the basement. Lunch is almost ready and I’m hungry.”
“Sorry, man. I’m just wondering if you all can tell me what’s down there or at least—”
“Either you get down there so I can get my plate,” Bald Head flashed me a row of sharpened silver teeth, “Or I’ll eat you.”
I hurried in the opposite direction.
Gwen’s voice held anger. “Jellybean, leave him alone.”
Jellybean? There is nothing sweet or small about that motherfucker.
Not wanting to be in Jellybean’s stomach, I rushed down the darkened stairs.
His name should be Psycho or Monster.
I continued forward.
Where is Boris, Jean-Pierre, or Rafael? They must have rushed down.
The stairs were concrete, each step rough and uneven. They wound around like a spiral, descending into darkness.
I touched my gun, needing the security.