#6

Through the dirty window, Tennessee’s eyes lingered on Alejandro for a moment. He felt a slight, genuine regret over Calito’s death. Even more so because that idiot had filled the void.

It was around then that Alejandro’s expression, which had been suppressing irritation the whole time, completely lost its composure.

“I know you think you’re the protagonist of some epic, but knock it off. This is your final warning.”

He could have avoided it if he had played the social game skillfully, but today, Tennessee simply wasn’t in the mood.

“That warning… is it really the final one?”

Their gazes locked. He truly meant it when he said try it if you can. Gangs were mostly made up of nobodies in the end. They were people who didn’t even know how to hold a gun properly and hadn’t received proper training, so they didn’t know how to finish a job with a single shot. The pinnacle of an inefficient group. People who swarm in, fire a bunch of shots, and then blast loud music and vanish, thinking, ‘He’s probably dead by now.’ Tennessee snorted openly.

Despite Tennessee’s nonchalant reaction, Alejandro ultimately failed to pull the gun tucked into his waistband.

Figures.

“You’re quite tame. See you around.”

A half-finished cigarette butt landed on Alejandro’s shoe.

After parking the car outside the building, Tennessee headed toward where the car he had driven had been parked. As he crossed the street and turned a corner into a secluded area, he felt a gaze.

Tennessee turned around. Three Hispanic men were looking toward him from near a telephone pole. It was too blatant to be called tailing. They didn’t even make eye contact. However, it was too fast to be because of the incident with Alejandro.

Their eyes are creepy. Should I just kill them?

After thinking for a moment, Tennessee stared at the child sitting motionless inside the car. It wasn’t a mistake. Those men were staring intently at the child.

“Open the door.”

The child moved his hands quickly. Since the child had also noticed the men’s gaze, he glanced at the men across the street even as he stuck close to Tennessee. He was visibly tense.

“What did those people do?”

“No, they’ve just been staring at me for ten minutes.”

“I told you to keep your head down.”

Cutting off the child’s attempt to argue, Tennessee added:

“You should have shot them.”

The child’s mouth fell open in shock, but he soon realized Tennessee was joking and snorted.

Is there something going on?

Opening the rear door of the car, Tennessee cast a glance toward the telephone pole. The men had already disappeared.

They probably weren’t targeting him, so they must have been looking at the child. Since there were three of them, if he met them again, he could kill two and make the last one talk.

“Where are we going now?”

The child asked as soon as he switched cars. We? Tennessee’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Not ‘we,’ but ‘you.’ There’s a place to stay. You’ll stay there.”

The child fell silent. Tennessee tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. For some reason, the expression he had seen on the child’s face earlier kept coming back to him.

The tension had been palpable. With his arms clenched tight and barely able to breathe, he had been curled up quietly. Yet, the moment he heard the words “open the door,” he had lowered the gun with a look of relief.

Relief. Tennessee had never seen anyone feel relieved upon seeing his face. Usually, it was the opposite. There was resignation that the end had come, or people who tried to flee or resist in terror.

No one had ever let out a sigh of relief as if wrapped in a cozy blanket while a gun was pointed at them. But the child had. He had immediately lowered his hands and even carefully handed back the gun—handing over the grip while pointing the muzzle toward himself.

“There’s a TV, so you won’t be bored,” Tennessee said as he parked the car in front of the house. It was a place he hadn’t returned to in a long time. Perhaps that was why it felt exceptionally unfamiliar.

Crushing his cigarette, Tennessee turned on the lights. The child should have been jumping for joy that there was a TV, a bed, and a shower, but he simply sat quietly on the edge of the bed.

“You’ll come back, right?”

Tennessee, who was double-checking the door lock, looked up. He already had another cigarette in his mouth, though he had lost count of how many he’d had today.

“When will you be back?”

Fearing he might seem weak, the child changed the question. Tennessee, who had been looking at him with a dry gaze, checked his watch.

“Who knows.”

Tennessee set the gun down beside the child.

“Keep it if you’re scared.”

Tennessee took the child’s hands in his and taught him once more. Unlock it like this, yes, pull it like that, and then aim.

The child bit his lip the entire time.

“Can’t I come with you? I’ll wait quietly in the car.”

The TV he had turned on was making a noisy racket. Seeing a hint of irritation from Tennessee, the child shook his head.

“…Never mind.”

Opening the blinds with his fingers, Tennessee looked outside.

Recalling the men who had watched the child so intently, Tennessee carefully scanned the surroundings.

It had been a blatant search, but since they hadn’t threatened him immediately, the child must not have known what to do. If they had approached, he would have shot, but since they only stared from afar, he wouldn’t have known how to respond. He said he was eleven. It was enough to be scared.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there was nothing around except the light of the streetlamps. But he didn’t know what might be hiding in the corners where the light didn’t reach.

A house situated next to a pitch-black alley. A desolate space with nothing and no one. The occasional sound of the TV, a small gun lying nearby.

Tennessee had experienced something like that too.

The difference was that in the past, someone had been by his side. His drug-addicted mother had collapsed unconscious, and the house was as silent as if its mouth had been forcibly shut. The distant, low howl of a dog, the sound of gunshots like fireworks.

Young Tennessee had known the location of the gun his mother had hidden long ago.

Should I just die?

He had thought that dozens of times.

Should I kill this woman and then kill myself?

Whenever his hand touched the cold metal, he realized how heavy and yet light the weight of a human life could be. A weight that a small child could lift with two hands. Perhaps that’s why his mother lived a life she had discarded so easily, because life was that light.

Tennessee changed his mind.

“You have to listen to me.”

It wasn’t a good place for a child to go, but he figured it was better to take him along. At Tennessee’s words, a spark of life flickered in the child’s eyes.

“Yes!”

“When I tell you when and what to do, you do exactly as I say.”

“Yes!”

“…Come out.”

The child hopped down.

No matter how he thought about it, the child was too small for his age. Whether it was because he wasn’t fed or because his food was stolen, he looked frail.

Though he had frightened the boy, Tennessee thought nothing major would happen.

As soon as he brought the child inside, people’s attention naturally shifted toward them. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a gambling den, nor was it a bar or club for adults only, but it was a restaurant with a rather poor image.

It wasn’t like Hooters, where waitresses walked around in clothes that were practically rags, but the atmosphere was similar.

“Hello, little gentleman.”

A scantily clad waitress pinched the child’s cheek. The child, who was clearly tense from Tennessee’s warning, looked around, unable to grasp the situation. His small face was filled with bewilderment.

“Tennessee.”

As soon as he sat at the bar, Rick came over to greet him. While doing so, he looked at the child sitting next to Tennessee and asked with his eyes. Is this your kid? That was definitely the question.

The child was looking at the menu, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“I’m not buying you anything. Don’t order.”

“I have a hundred dollars.”

He got me. Even so, Tennessee snatched the menu the child was looking at.

“Ah!” The child reached out, but the difference in size between him and Tennessee was vast and daunting.

“I have no intention of boosting the sales here. I’ll buy you something elsewhere, so eat there.”

“What?! Why, Tennessee, don’t you like my food?”

When Rick protested, Tennessee reluctantly returned the menu. Come to think of it, he felt that if he boosted the sales a bit, Rick would be more likely to grant his request with a proper attitude. However, Tennessee truly hated this atmosphere.

“Um, I’d like to order.”

The child raised one hand, then seemed to realize something and looked at Tennessee, asking if he could order.

When Tennessee gave his consent with a glance, the child said, “Cinnamon Toast, please.”

“That’s the name of a cocktail.”

“…Oh.”

“It’s written right here.”

Following Rick’s finger, the child narrowed his eyes. Looking closely, the word ‘Crunch’ was attached after ‘Cinnamon Toast.’

While the child dropped his head back to the menu, Rick could not hide his confusion.

‘Is he your kid?! Is he your kid! He looks at least seven or eight!’

Rick could be loud even with just his eyes. Tennessee ignored the intense and desperate shouting. As the ignoring continued, Rick simply asked out loud.

“Tennessee, I’m asking, is he your kid?”

His voice was loud enough that the child ordering food and the waitress next to them turned around, so Tennessee spoke.

“There’s no way he’s my kid.”

“You look quite alike.”

“A little in the eyes.”

As Rick evaluated them with his arms crossed, the waitress joined in. Tennessee frowned.

“He’s a kid I happened to kidnap.”

He expected Rick to take it as a joke and ask, ‘Where did you kidnap him from?’ but unexpectedly, Rick stared at Tennessee with a completely blank expression. It was a calculating gaze.

“You wouldn’t happen to be… right?”

Tennessee didn’t know what he meant, but there seemed to be something. Feeling it wasn’t a conversation to have in front of the child, Tennessee jerked his chin toward the back room. This place, which was strictly a restaurant, even had a small office.

Tennessee tapped the bar table to get the child’s attention.

“I’m going to talk to Rick, so eat here.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

When Tennessee said that, Rick called the waitress and asked her to look after the child.

“I’ve got it.”

Perhaps because it was a crowded restaurant and he had let his guard down for a moment, the tension returned to the child’s expression, which had softened into a playful one.