Hood Ornaments

There were reasons why Malik could have left Sticks’ room. Word on the street was there wasn’t any word on the street. It was mute. The news didn’t even report what happened at the funeral home that day. Because there was no family to make a public outcry, the media began exploiting another tragedy for ratings.

But he knew the city knew. Knew they couldn’t do anything about it. Knew what would happen if they did. So he stayed right where he was until he was absolutely certain it cooled off. That had its perks. He didn’t realize how much he needed to rest until his head hit the pillow, and he woke up two days later. After he showered, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went back to sleep until hunger woke him up. It was Sticks’ dime, so he ordered room service:

French toast.

Scrambled eggs

Turkey sausage and bacon

Home fries

English muffin with butter and jelly

Orange juice

Two large coffees

And two bowls of Lucky Charms.

By the time the attendant knocked on the door, Malik had gotten dressed. He opened it, and the attendant had an amused smirk on his face.

“You ordered breakfast?”

Malik nodded and reached for the receipt to sign it.

“For two? Three even?”

Malik sighed heavily and leered at the attendant as he assisted him in wheeling the cart into the room.

“I’m a grown ass man, bamma.”

“Enjoy your Lucky Charms, sir”

The door snapped closed behind him, and Malik swore he heard a chuckle.

But he was too hungry to care.

After the food coma, Malik decided it was safe to head back to the house. Out of habit, he headed straight for the kitchen.On the refrigerator, he found a note.

It read:

Leek,

I will be back really late. Call Dennis if you need anything.

Love,

Mom.

There was so much that he needed, but he didn’t realize it until that moment.

***

Farrell angrily swiped his key card through the slot and then barreled his way through the back door of the station, down the hall, and into his office. Then he slammed his office door shut. He shoved his chair away from his desk before plopping himself into it. He heard tapping at the doorway, but he did not look up for fear it was his sergeant. He began shuffling papers on his desk in an attempt to look busy. He heard footsteps shuffle into his office.

He did not look up.

Someone cleared his throat.

He did not look up.

The aroma of good coffee permeated his office.

He thought about looking up.

“You know you really oughta check to see if the door stayed shut after you slam it. Or else it loses the effect.”

Detective Ross said as he sat on the edge of Farrell’s desk while holding out a large Styrofoam cup of coffee. He took the cup and mindlessly sipped it.

“Thanks, I’ll remember that the next time a kid gets his head blown off at his grandmother’s viewing.”

“You need to let yourself off the hook. No one would have anticipated that shit.”

“Exactly no civilized human being would have ever…” He stopped in mid- sentence so he could regain his composure. “…why didn’t we escort…”

“…he refused it. Said no one saw him at the bus station.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Ross. We saw him…”

“We were looking for him. Farrell, this isn’t your fault.”

Farrell sighed, “It sure as fuck feels like it.”