Axel slipped his hand against his holster, just in case.
“Quiet down!” Legend yelled as he gripped a beer bottle.
What a difference a few years make. The man was nothing but muscle now. He’d always been broad and built, but it was obvious his last stint in prison had been spent pushing massive weights. He’d been the runt of their group when they were kids in school. The small, skinny one. Those days were long gone. Now he was about the same height as Axel, and looked like a fucking fourth dog. A pit bull.
They stared at one another in silence for a long time. He noted the light freckles on Legend’s cheeks and nose. As a kid, he’d hated them, but later on, they’d become some sort of girl magnet. Not too little. Not too much. Just right. Axel always felt that they gave him a more youthful appearance, an interesting contrast to his light beige skin. But his eyes didn’t look lively and full of life. The hazel orbs appeared dull and tired, as if he’d seen and schemed far too much. His hair was cut in a low, jet-black fade, with natural waves going in a circle—a 360. His thick black beard was groomed almost to a point, and a diamond earring in his ear sparkled like a star.
“My man, Axel… Come on in, come on in.” Legend finally cracked a smile. He opened the door further, and Axel stepped inside to be immediately hit with the smell of weed. They slapped hands and hugged. Axel looked around the pigsty of a house. Papers everywhere. A television was on, the sound muted, and the living room was occupied by old mix and match furniture. The black leather couch seemed to be falling apart. The foam oozed out where the fabric split and it had so many cracks, they looked like the veins of a collard green leaf.
“How are ya doing, Legend?”
“I’m okay,” the guy replied before disappearing into a small, dingy kitchen, the dogs hot on his trail. “Go on and sit down, man. Make yourself comfortable.”
Axel sat down in the living room. He noticed a couple of chewed up raw-hide dog bones, marijuana papers, lighters, empty beer bottles and cans, and something he hadn’t seen in forever: a copy of Hustler magazine.
Something is seriously wrong. Legend used to be more of a clean freak than even me. He had that brief stint in the military… always kept his things tidy. He likes lavish shit. Expensive shit. He used to have maids, and live in nice ass apartments and big houses. He had a bunch of cars. Beautiful women. And he didn’t drink so much that he was out of his mind. He could hold his liquor. Shit. He isn’t the same… My brother is hurtin’…
Axel sighed and stared at the television screen. There was a commercial on about some medication for eczema. Suddenly, the Rottweiler came barreling in, but instead of an attack he was braced for, it began sniffing him insistently. He pet the dog a little, letting her have her way. Legend approached with another bottle of beer in his hand.
“Here you go, man.”
Axel reached for it. “Thank you.” He took a gulp.
Legend sat across from him, set his beer down, and began to pick up shit off the table, frantically cleaning up as if he didn’t know he was about to have company. Hell, maybe he didn’t even remember?
“So, what is it that was so important that you couldn’t tell me on the phone?” the man questioned as he tossed the junk in a big garbage bag.
“Before I get to that, I want you to tell me why you’re living here… like this,” Axel looked around, then back at him. “And not talking to your family.”
“What’s this? An episode of CSI?” He chortled mirthlessly. “Maybe you’re Dr. Phil’s ol’ phony ass, huh?” He tied a knot in the garbage bag, then tossed it aside. He then opened the porn magazine, and began to roll himself a blunt between the pages. Between the ass cheeks, actually.
“You don’t have to be defensive. It’s a question.” Axel threw up his hands. “That’s all.”
Legend kept working on his high, but his expression drew tighter.
“Axel, don’t come over here wit’ that big brother shit. You only like five months older than me, and always tried to toss your weight around. I don’t have to answer to you, mothafucka. You come in my house and start up right away, huh? Demanding shit. Tryna force a mothafucka to do what the hell you want them to do. That’s just like you. This is why I stopped fuckin’ with you to begin with. You haven’t changed a bit… The great inquisition.” He laughed in a lazy sort of way. “Always think you runnin’ some shit.”