One Week Ago

H*H*H*H

The push from Lighter’s palms caused Hui to practically fly back onto his bed. The mattress creaked as he fell and the springs of the sheetless spread molded to his shape immediately. After four years of working for Honcho he had come to realize that the employees didn't exactly get upgraded perks. One perk he had always noticed, however, was the fatherly mentorship the old man had shown Hui since they showed up day one. It was that extra bit of attention that had helped the young thug become a better craftsman in the art of pickpocketing.

Honcho’s attention had helped Hui learn the layout and social order of the city quicker than the others. He was trusted by the old man, with their pasts so similar, that Hui even found his jobs higher paying even if they were 'easier' than some might believe. Now of course in order to further teach the boy Honcho would supply Hui with difficult jobs—wiretappings, drug plants, or becoming a mere fly on the wall in the dirt of the slums, but the boy found that he always seemed to make out better than his fellow henchmen. After four years of quietly observing the familial feeling between the boss and his successor, though, Hui found that he wasn't the only one noticing the potential favoritism. Recently, he'd admit, the others were beginning to grow rowdy.

Hui stared up, wide-eyed at Lighter from the mattress, all the while attempting not to lose the poker face he had worked so hard to craft over the past few years. It was clear from the pissed, yet satisfied, expression on Lighter’s face, though, that Hui’s confusion and fear were blatantly exposed, and Lighter knew it was his doing.

“Listen, kid, at first I thought you just needed a ton of practice work and that’s why the boss was giving you so much slack,” Lighter gripped the bars of the top bunk and lifted his one leg up to kick Hui in the ribs. “But I’ll give it to you that you’re not the sh*ttiest newbie. I mean, heck, tons of the newbies will never get to your level.” Lighter leaned in closer to the young boy, and as he spoke Hui did his best to not gag from the overwhelming aroma of cigarettes emanating from the thug. Never was hard to figure out how he got his name, Hui thought.

“You might have some skills, but not enough to be babied by the boss. I’m sick and tired of you getting some unwarranted treatment.” Lighter picked his foot up again as if to kick Hui’s ribs once more, but he just held it there, threateningly. “If you don’t start giving me some of those well-paying jobs where you just sit on your a** all night you best leave this place by the end of the week.” He kicked Hui harder in the ribs and spat on the boy writhing pain. “If you don’t off out of here I swear on all the strip joints of the slums that I’ll make sure Honcho has a reason to kill you.”

“H-Honcho?” Hui gagged in confusion as he gripped his side. If this is between Lighter and me, he thought, why even bother letting Honcho know? He tried to sit up in his bed, but Lighter moved his foot and held it against Hui’s chest. Pushing him back down onto the bed, he grinned smugly at the young thug.

“I’ve been in this line of business for over 10 years now, kid, and I’ll spare you the details of my styling of “corporal punishment.” Just know that if you think Honcho was a force to reckon with, I’ll have you know I can get a lot worse than your Papa Slums.” His boot pressed further into Hui’s chest that it was becoming harder to breathe. He found it hard to find the words to speak, his mind focusing only on the bruises beneath his skin.

“What do you want me to do, Lighter? Just give you every one of my jobs from now on?” Hui was starting to grow angrier by the second, bewildered by the thought that one of the older members would think he hadn’t worked over the past four years to gain that trust from Honcho, or to get those “easy” jobs the boss had provided the young thug. It’s true that Honcho saw something in Hui that perhaps his parents wouldn’t have, and Hui was thankful for those high expectations, but to always get sh*t like this from the seasoned members of the gang? It was getting old for the young pickpocket.

“Get off me, Lighter, and go to hell.” He grabbed the boot still planted on his chest and compiled all his anger into a brief burst of strength. Pushing the foot aside, Hui sat up in his bed. Just like how his back grew accustomed to the mattress springs, he had become too accustomed to the hardness of the slums—of the members of H. As Lighter stumbled slightly from the push Hui stood up and passed the offset henchman.

“Why you little shi—” Lighter turned quickly with his fist swinging towards Hui, but found himself hitting the door frame rather than the young fly on the wall. Hui stood roughly a foot away from the now fresh dent in the plaster and smirked. He watched Lighter as the thug shook out his hand and glared at Hui. The young blonde nodded at the pained hand.

“Lighter don’t go thinking that I've hardened up these past four years just because I get what you think is an ‘easy’ jobs. I work. I get paid." Hui shrugged. "Honcho likes my clean precision I bring to my work.” He studied the reddened hand Lighter now cradled. Hui noted to himself that the red hand matched the ferocious expression of the older thug’s face. “I suppose he can’t exactly see the same potential in you, which, I would bet, leads to why I'm getting all the ‘easy’ jobs while you’re here attempting to bully the junior members.”

With a confidence slightly unrecognized by Hui, he stepped closer to Lighter and patted the man’s shoulder. Holding it there, he added, “And Lighter, didn’t you ever wonder if those ‘easy’ jobs I’m getting just looked easy because I was the one completing them?”

“Cocky little sh*t, I’ll kill you by the end of the night.” Lighter hissed. His fists clenching by his sides.

“Ah ah ah,” Hui shook his head. “I wouldn’t make such a promise if you couldn’t bet on it. What’s the phrase?” The blonde swiftly held up a brown leather wallet and tapped it to Lighter’s lips. “How about you put your money where your mouth is?” He smiled and held the wallet in front of Lighter’s face until the older thug snatched it away. Having proved his point, Hui turned and walked out his shack of a bedroom. Ignoring the curses that Lighter slung at his back as Hui walked down the corridor of The House, the pickpocket decided on his next move.

Although Honcho had been a generous boss, in the loosest usage possible, Hui noted, he was turning into a liability for the novice thug. If the others were starting to turn on Hui rather than tutor him in the ways of the slums, the blonde couldn’t help but think that it would be dangerous to stay around those same slums any longer. Although The House was what he called home for the past few years, once again, he thought, in the loosest usage possible, either a guy like Lighter would continue to harass him and threaten to steal his jobs, or worse, would try to kill him to get his jobs.

As he waved to Muscle who watched over the entrance of The House, Hui stepped out into the fresh summer air. In this line of business, through all the drug deals, raids, ion, and pickpocketing hauls there was no time for a sense of familial comradery. There were no mothers and fathers or brothers and sisters. The only people in H were abandoned by the only ones who could have cared for them and shield them from the dirty lifestyle they all lived now. Without those people to help them from straying, the lost souls always found their way to The House one way or another, thanks to Honcho.

Honcho, Hui thought, he never saw me as anything but a pawn that would get him information—or a little spending money. The cold air of the night kissed the back of Hui’s neck he wanted to go back inside, but, for some reason, he knew the warehouse behind him wasn’t a shelter for him anymore. Honcho will understand, he thought, he knows it better than anyone that in this line of business there are no hard feelings. There are grudges, he noted, remembering Lighter’s boot against his chest moments before, but no hard feelings.

He would leave the city. None of Honcho’s men patrolling the edges would think twice about the boss’ favorite pickpocket leaving the city limits. It would look like nothing more than an errand or a higher-level job Honcho assigned to Hui. I could do it this week, during the holiday, the most popular time for jobs in my field.

The Fourth of July was coming up, and, though it fell on a weekday, the city insisted on having the holiday festival on Thursday. It would be busy and hectic, with no time to think twice about a fly on the wall.

Hui figured that if he managed to escape the city limits with some money in tow and a clean set of clothes he would be able to start fresh somewhere away from his dirty lifestyle, to which, Hui regretted, he had unfortunately become accustomed. Honcho wouldn’t be the type to fret over the loss of some thug-like image of a son, though. The only thing he would be pissed about losing was the money Hui planned to take— his 'paid leave.' Knowing he’d have to bribe Honcho’s men watching over the border for the night, he’d need at least 10K to get out and make it to a new city. That’s all Honcho would miss, Hui admitted, the money.

When he finally found out that Hui defected, Honcho would be the kind of man to hear the news, roll his eyes, throw a shot glass at the wall, and then head out to the freeway to pick up the next frantic child waiting on the side of the road. It would take him a week max to put a new body in Hui’s bed.

A week, Hui thought to himself, then that’s exactly what I’ll give the man.

One more week of his prized fly on the wall.