The towel hugging my body had no time to do its job because of the free-flow of the water gushing down my figure. I was drenched. I waddled inside, mainly because my vision was obscured by the tower of soaked clothes weighing down my arms. He was no good for me but I would think about him anyway. I thought about how I knew things about him I should not have, like the reason we were surrounded by somewhat of an empire and how he could afford a house that was notably different from the rest of us. You could tell that his tax bracket was bigger than our neighbors and mine.

  First, there was the infamous drug lords: the Menace brothers—Gabriel, Isaiah, and the one who truly mattered, Peter. They ran an underground drug ring. You could tell their parents were religious which is ironic because of the life they lived. Their parents were Luke and Ruth Johnson Menace. Ruth kept her last name even though she divorced Peter's father because of the power it held. How did I know this? Because I'm somewhat of a "stalker"—that's the definition Google gives anyways.

  Second, they had operations in Mexico City but also maintained a base here, in the "Magic City,"Miami, Florida. This meant they were the plug to several different operations worldwide—they were loaded, it was dirty cash but money nonetheless; and this was just one of their main bases. If I were to include all their successions I would further incriminate myself as a 'stalker.' My life consisted solely of eating, slumber, rinse-and-repeat and observing Peter.

  I developed somewhat of an admiration for him over the years. I would never openly admit it but it was there. I knew the time he would leave and I noted the time he would come back. You could call it obsession but I was his next door neighbor, I was simply observant. His father was a king pin and rumor has it he was stepping down and Peter was next in line for his throne. Peter was the oldest. He was 27. Gabriel was the middle child. He was 26, their parents sure didn't waste any time and Isaiah was 22, the amateur of the brothers.

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  There were on 5-o's radar but they were careful enough not to get caught. Nevertheless they had a number of law enforcement officers in their back pocket, even a federal judge. I've never heard of them killing anyone but I knew one of their runners went missing after attempting to steal from them. Not tryna discredit him, but what did he think was going to happen? I'm a little delusional when it comes to Peter but I'm just saying a lawyer would say,

  "Innocent until proven guilty,"

  and who could object to that. Their "family" was exactly as the word defined in the dictionary. They would die for one another. Even after the divorce Ruth cared for Luke. Everybody knew you messed with one of them you'd mess with them all. It was a bond that even the sharpest of blades couldn't dent. At least it was until I became a factor. I bought myself back to reality. Peter no longer occupied my headspace. In actuality, I was soaked and still dripping on my mother's porcelain tiles. If she had only awoken from her slumber, she would have scolded me. I rested our garments in the washer because putting them in our laundry basket that was plastered with holes felt like it would have been poor decision making on my part, so I opted for a safer route.

  There was no need to get back in the bath as I thought I had enough of water for one night. So I ascended the stairs, entered my bedroom, which paid homage to all the amazing artists of our generation. One can say I had taste for the arts. I stripped myself of the damp towel I was wearing and dried my skin with the other one hanging on my rack. I was a bit water-logged. I had the face of a 23 year old but my fingertips looked like I was turning 90. Trying to ignore the fact that I looked like a dehydrated preservative, I dressed myself in my comfiest yet somewhat sexy nightgown and attempted to fall into an altered state of consciousness.

  It always was difficult for me to sleep. I could say it was because of him but in an effort to be candid, I just always felt a little bit lonely. Turning to the side, knowing there was no one beside me felt sad. I hadn't been loved yet, not in the way I wanted to, at least. I haven't even been kissed but I knew one thing, I wanted it to be him.