She looked in her rear vision mirror again. Not to fix her hair. This time at least. It must be a tail, she thought. Hell, if it wasn’t, somebody was trying to get her attention. They beeped a second time. Nobody beeps at someone for no reason, but, forget it, she thought. If they want to pass me they can go right on by. I haven’t time for peoples shit right now and I’ll acknowledge them when I’m damn good and ready. I’m a Mafioso. I do what the fuck I want. When I want.  Fuck what they think. Fuck what they say.

She gripped the wheel and leaned back in the cushioned seat of her Chrysler Imperial. She did what she wanted. She didn’t care too much for her superiors. What they had to say didn’t really phase her. She just ignored it and went about her business. She was a Mafioso, after all.

A second car turned in onto the Boulevard behind the one she thought to be tailing her. She didn’t notice this one. She really didn’t care now. The cars were zipping along Esteem Boulevard and she had other shit on her mind. It sure as hell wasn’t the cars behind her. She brushed at her wavy hair and rolled down the window.

She had issues with her superiors and decided to brush them off completely. Just me. My thoughts. My world. I might be able to make it on my own after all. Who needs family in this thing of ours anyway? Nobody knows me. Nobody cares. I’ll just do my own thing. My own way. Fuck what they say to me, she thought, as the wind from the open window took to her face and neck.

Two blocks down a grocery store sat on the corner of Esteem Boulevard and Scorn Avenue. A local spot that served the neighbourhoods people and their many needs.

A ford pickup truck was parked out front with the back end open. A delivery guy pulled at a crate of tinned goods and dragged it to the back. He paused a moment and wiped the sweat off his brow. He’d been working hard to make his dough. He thought about dinner that night with the wife and kids. Maybe he’d stop off at the speakeasy on his way home. He dreaded seeing his wife when she was in a nagging mood.

A mother and son were passing the truck walking toward the grocer. The delivery man noticed and gave the boy a nod before turning his attention to the women attached to the kid. They walked hand in hand and she tugged at his arm. She had enough of his complaining. She just wanted to get the food and go home to start dinner. It would only be the two of them again tonight. Upon noticing the man making eye contact with her she smiled and flicked her hair back. Maybe he thinks I’m attractive, she thought.

After passing the truck the mother stopped to fix the boys shirt. How did it always pop out like this? If only his father were around. Maybe he’d listen better. The boy was told his father was away serving the country and trying to make his family proud. He died in a concentration camp in World War I. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Maybe she hadn’t yet accepted it herself.

As she tucked the shirt into the boy’s trousers, he glanced up and noticed a young couple talking outside, leaning against a payphone.

The guy had his arm up against the booth and was leaning in towards the girl. She looked at him with a playful look before he’d catch her gaze and she’d look away again. They met weeks earlier and had to conspire to see each other at the grocery store. Her parents didn’t know the guy, and didn’t want to. Her father was strict and domineering. He was rebellious and his family had a bad reputation.

He smiled and pushed at her shoulder. I can’t wait to kiss her, he lustfully thought. She giggled and nudged him back.

The young girl’s attention was caught by the screeching of tires. She turned her head to notice a small procession of cars pulling up at the lights. The guy took a quick look then focused his attention back on the girls face, and lips.

The cars pulled up as the light turned from amber to red. One, two, three, they stopped and idled in a line in front of the grocery store. The front car ended up breaking late as the female driver momentarily closed her eyes a block or so back, losing herself to the feeling of wind sweeping across her face. Her turning signal was flickering, indicating she wanted to turn onto Scorn Avenue.

In the blink of an eye the car at the tail end pulled out and sped around the others before turning sharp and skidding to a stop in front of the first car, boxing it in. The back doors swung open and two men wearing dark suits and fedoras exited, holding Thompson Submachine guns at the ready. They took aim at the Chrysler. Instantly bullets began pumping the car full of led as casings fell to the ground littering the road, with the sound of machine guns deafened the area.

As the shooting started the delivery man jumped out of the way and behind his truck whilst the mother picked up her son and bolted into the grocery store. The flirtatious young guy grabbed his girlfriend and shielded her whilst ducking behind the phone booth.

Bullets continued to annihilate the car from both sides as the women driver instantly slumped forward and over the steering wheel. She didn’t have a chance.

After the guns ran out of ammo the men rushed back to their car and made a speedy getaway, flooring it as they continued down Esteem Boulevard. The last car reversed and spun around before speeding off down the boulevard in the opposite direction.

After the cars had left the scene the damage was done. The women was dead. Her own self conceited ways led to her own demise. She felt she could ignore the family that bought her in. That housed her. That gave her an opportunity to be someone. To be loved. She turned them away and she paid with her life. She never did make it on her own.

In the aftermath the grocery and the corner had remnants of the violence that were meant for her. The shop front was shot up as bullets ripped right through the car and continued on with their destruction.

Most notably though a female’s cries now filled the air in place of the tommy guns loud rampage. The mother and her son stood in the doorway of the grocers; the owner peering out behind them. The delivery driver made sure he was whole before rushing to the young girl’s aid. She was hunched over holding her boyfriend in her bloody arms, panic-stricken and in tears. He lay motionless on the ground. A stray bullet ended him.

He covered and shielded her as best he could and ultimately he saved her life with his own. The disrespect of one had claimed the life of another. All he wanted was to feel and taste his girl’s lips. He’ll never get that chance.

In this thing of ours no-one gets out alive, and disrespect is met with an untimely end.

We all choose our own fate.

If we make a turn and head for Scorn Avenue, you can be sure it’ll end shortly after.

It’s only by treating others with respect that will allow us to continue our journey.

Scorn Avenue or Esteem Boulevard.

Which road will you choose?

I have always chosen Esteem Boulevard. This thing of ours is as much being a part of a family as can be. The children in the family who misbehave must be punished and the good ones are rewarded.