Color Wars

Author's Note: This was written for a short story competition with the theme of Colors. Entries had to be a thousand words or fewer. There is not much sex in this story, so be forewarned. Enjoy!

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"Why do I have to be Mr. Pink?"

As he woke from a deep sleep, Ebron Johnson recognized the classic line from one of his favorite movies but it didn't coincide with the wonderful sensations emanating from his core.

He reached down and grabbed a handful of the beaded braids which flowed from the scalp of the head eagerly bobbing on his erection. "What the fuck are you doing bae?" he exclaimed with a hint of terror in his voice as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Bianca Rodriguez smiled up at him, her dazzling white teeth framed by her thick mauve lips. "It's called a blow job Silver, and as I recall, you like them."

"Why'd you let me fall asleep? What the fuck time is it?" he asked frantically, looking around her small apartment dimly illuminated with slivers of moonlight thinly sliced by the rusted bars of the fire escape outside the window.

The curvy girl arched her back like a feral cat and craned her long neck to see the bedside alarm clock over his right shoulder. "It's one in the morning," she said, her bronze skin glistening in the moonlight like the surface of a calm mountain lake. She dipped her head to take his semi-hard cock back into her mouth, but was halted by the tightening grip on her hair.

"I gots to go you crazy bitch," he said as he wiggled his 5-foot-8 frame out from under her sultry body. "You know I can't be seen north of 189th street after dark," he reminded her as he pulled up his boxers and mostly pulled up his saggy jeans.

"You'll be fine, Silver," she said as she hugged her naked self to his chest, her fingers tracing the six inch scar just below his left pec, the source of his colorful nickname. Ebron was dubbed Silver, short for Silver Dollar, by his fellow gang members after the lucky coin his father left him deflected the bullet which surely would have taken his young life.

"Not if your cousin or his boys catch me up here," he said as he pulled the red tank over his fro and pulled on his faded denim jacket. He pulled Bianca to him and kissed her deeply, then leaned and kissed the rose colored nipple which stood proudly from her large chest like the eraser of a brand new pencil.

"I can try to reason with Hector," she offered, as she patted the pocket of the jacket which held the lucky coin. Her other hand slid down his back and fully tucked in the red bandanna that draped from his back pocket, "but it's best to be safe." She pressed the soft pillows of her full lips to his and kissed him good-bye before he ducked out the bedroom window and scrambled down the rickety fire escape.

MLK Boulevard provided the most direct route back to his turf but he'd have to pass The Ace of Spades, where Hector and the Latin Kings were sure to be dealing. So he took off toward Roosevelt drive which was mostly burnt out tenements and homeless.

"Why won't that bitch hang at my crib?" Silver thought to himself as he traveled through the grey shadows of the neighborhood, happy that the city was none too quick to replace street lights in this section of town. "Almost there," he whispered to himself as he rounded the corner and saw the bright green Lotto sign above the stairway to the subway.

Just as he was about to break into a dead sprint for it, he saw the three grease-balls with blue bandannas exit the subway stairs. They didn't need to see his bandanna to know he didn't belong, his hair and ebony skin tone was enough for them to know.

Silver reached into his waistband for his Glock, then closed his eyes and yelled "fuck!" when he remembered where it was. With no other option he turned and ran back in the direction from which he came.

The three Kings took after him yelling a blue streak of expletives and epitaphs as they gave chase. Silver did not know where he was going, he just knew he couldn't lead them back to Bianca's place, which would be bad for both of them.

He turned down what he thought was an alley, but it was a dead end. He leaned his forehead on the cool rough surface of the filthy grey cinder block wall before turning to meet his fate. The three Kings closed in on him, Silver took solace in the fact that none of them had a gat. The biggest guy had a dull grey pipe, the smaller one had a rusty chain, but when the moonlight glimmered off the surface of the switchblade in the third guy's hand, he knew he was in for more than just a beating.

He pulled the red bandana from his pocket and wrapped it tightly around his right fist as he calculated which of the three to take down first. As they were about to pounce, his eyes grew wide as saucers and he yelled, "NOOO!"

The alleyway was illuminated in the bright yellow glow of the three muzzle flashes, as the three Latin Kings dropped to the blacktop, revealing Bianca, clad only in her PINK nightshirt, holding the butt of the Glock, still cool from being in her freezer.

"Forget something?" she deadpanned, before flashing the brilliant white smile that led him to fall for a girl from the wrong neighborhood in the first place.