The evening bloomed with shimmering dresses and boys in sleek tuxedos. The gymnasium was packed, high school kids vibrating with energy, singing along to Whitney Houston's 'I Will Always Love You.' The blinking red light from camcorders flashed in Michael’s eyes as he stepped onto the dance floor. A weird feeling washed over him as his gaze snapped to the gold 'Prom '93' banner hanging over the stage. This was it—his last high school prom. He offered smiles and nods at the girls who waved, weaving himself through the crowd as whispers, louder than the music, spread around him. He was looking for his friends, but he wasn't rushing. In fact, he slowed his steps, letting his eyes linger on his classmates and Mr. Dean, the portly English teacher, who, doubling as a chaperone, was snagging a cup of punch near the refreshments. Michael grinned when their eyes met.

  "Hollywood better watch out! Michael is stealing the spotlight!" Mr. Dean exclaimed.

  Michael laughed, his eyes lingering on the teacher’s kind face. "Thank you, Mr. Dean. You’re the coolest!"

  The teacher opened an arm, gesturing him forward. "The red carpet is this way."

  "Appreciate it, man." Michael nodded, passing by.

  Jennifer strode towards him in her high heels, adjusting the spaghetti straps of her pink satin dress as she approached. She beamed, seeing the enchanted look on his face; he couldn’t help but scan the young lady from her curly golden locks to her pink-painted toes. Gorgeous.

  She wrapped her arms around him for a quick hug. She looked deep into his blue eyes. For a moment, with the music swelling and light spilling across his fair skin, he looked like a movie star not just a high school boy.

  "Where have you been? They’re going to announce the prom queen any minute!" The look on her face spoke of her confidence in being crowned that night, but her playful tone and dramatic pout begged her boyfriend to play the anxious game with her.

  "I was searching for my boys."

  Her smile faltered. "Oh, your friends…" She hesitated, words catching at the top of her tongue. She licked her glossy lips briefly. "You’re still… friends with them?" It was more a statement than a question; she already knew the devastating answer.

  Michael sensed an argument brewing, a suffocating knot tightening in his throat. He sighed, clicking his tongue. "Jenni, we talked about this." Annoyance and anger crept into his tone. "They’re not bad. Shit just happens when you’re rising up."

  She took a step closer, her smoky eyes widening. "Oh? And the police raiding your house every other day is a coincidence?" She drew in a deep breath, forcing her tone back to being girly and polite. "Wake up, Michael. Those you’re calling friends are plotting behind your back."

  Michael exhaled angrily, averting his intense gaze.

  Jennifer clicked her tongue, her voice dropping. "Being summoned to the principal’s office every week, the police always at your doors. And you’re still wondering who’s ruining your drug business."

  He placed a warm hand over her tinted cheek, his voice soft. "Babe, I know you’re worried about me, but trust me, they'd take a bullet before they betray me."

  Jennifer gazed at his charming face for a while longer. He looked confident and unbreakable. Perhaps he was right and she was just overthinking it. "I’m not saying they’re all bad. I’m saying there must be one of them who’s trying to drag you down. Michael, I’m worried about you. I love you."

  Michael leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips. He looked deep into her sad eyes. "My drug business is getting bigger. I’m making moves out there, Jenni. The streets know my name now. I’m always having my guard up. I have people out there working for me; they can’t let me get in trouble." His hand slid down her neck slowly, "I’m safe, Jenni."

  Jennifer took a deep breath; a lot of words trapped in her chest. But she knew the second she voiced her concerns, Michael might lash out, and she didn’t want to ruin the evening. She exhaled and nodded. She knew he’d never agree to give up on his drug business and get a normal job just like anyone else. Nevertheless, her heart chose him, no matter if he was a criminal or not. She trusted him. If he said he was safe, then he was safe.

  He kissed her one more time. "I’ll be back in a while. I won’t miss the coronation of the prom queen." He walked away, leaving her to drown in a mix of concerns and anticipation. Yet, at least she now knew that he was protected by others, even if she didn’t know who those others were.

  Michael stepped outside the gymnasium and, as he expected, heard giggles and shouts. His friends were out there, slumped over a bench, half-hidden from view, liquor bottles glinting in their hands. They saw him and waved him over. Cyrus Leonardo and William Lester sat side-by-side on the bench, sharing a single bottle, slowly drifting into a drunken haze. William lifted his rectangular glasses to wipe his blurry eyes. Meanwhile, Rico Rodrego and Raymond Malcolm held out some suspicious-looking pills. Raymond was explaining how the pills affected dopamine receptors in the brain and how they could lead to serotonin poisoning, that was too scientific for Rico to understand; the latter simply popped a couple of pills and washed them down with liquor, causing the former to get a mild heart attack.

  As soon as Michael approached, Rico wrapped a lazy arm around him. Some incomprehensible slurs rolled off his tongue, and Michael immediately knew he was being cursed in Spanish. Rico turned his head and looked deep into Michael’s eyes. "I love you, man."

  Raymond offered the drug tablets in his hand. "Check out this new stuff."

  Michael raised a hand, a sign of refusal. "I need to keep my cool tonight. I can’t get wasted."

  Cyrus, his head sinking into the back of the bench, lifted it slightly. "You’re lame, man."

  William snickered. "We’re losers."

  Rico spat, his Mexican accent thick. "Talk about yourself, negro. Why you're out of your cage?"

  William mimicked his accent. "At least I don’t speak Taco Bell, you immigrant."

  Michael stepped between them. "Guys, stop. We said no racism." They all turned to him in confusion, a collective “look who’s talking” expression on their faces. He clarified, "At least towards each other."

  Raymond laughed. "I thought Michael became a good person for a moment." They all snorted a laugh.

  Rico shot Michael a suspicious look. "Why do you want to be clean tonight, amigo?"

  A shy smile crept onto Michael’s lips. "There’s something I have to do." He looked at William. "Did you bring a disposable camera like I said?"

  The latter nodded. "Yeah, but you didn't tell me what for."

  "I need you to come with me." Michael pulled the half-drunk William back towards the gymnasium. Seeing the prom committee members on stage giving a speech, he exhaled in relief. "Just in time."

  "What’s the big deal, Mike?"

  Michael smirked. "Just don’t miss the shot. Jennifer will remember this night for the rest of her life."

  The two prom committee members, a girl and a boy, stood at the mic with a letter in their hands; the boy patted the mic to make sure it was working. The girl leaned into it to chirp, "Now, we are going to announce the prom queen based on your votes."

  The boy took a turn to speak, "We want to let you know that we didn’t let anyone mess with the votes, and we let everyone decide freely."

  "The prom queen is…" The girl opened the letter and exclaimed, "Jennifer Morris!"

  The gymnasium rumbled with applause and roared with cheering. Jennifer quickened her steps towards the stage, hands on her blushing face, a wide grin visible through the gaps between her fingers. The prom committee draped a 'Prom Queen' banner over her shoulders and placed a plastic crown on her head.

  Rico and Raymond peeked from the entrance. Rico threw his arms up in pride, strutting a few steps inside to greet the audience he thought was his. "No need to thank me, mi familia! Soy la mejor puta madre!"

  Raymond pulled him back. "Get your drunk ass back in here! These paranoid assholes will call the cops on us if they see you wasted."

  Cyrus staggered behind them. "Cops? Where?"

  Among the crowd in front of the stage, Michael signaled for William to pull out his camera and get ready. Jennifer was delivering a speech of gratitude, but then she stopped talking, stumbling over her words, her tongue seemed to forget how to speak. Her eyes searched the familiar faces, who looked back curiously, wondering why she was suddenly silent. Michael raised his hand and waved at her. Her smile returned, and she continued her speech, "A queen can’t exist without her king." She took a deep breath. "That’s why I crown Michael Easterwood as my prom king."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The crowd cheered once more, seeing Michael walk up the stage. Mr. Dean raised his hands, clapping louder than those around him, a warm grin on his face. Jennifer picked up the other plastic crown. Michael lowered himself so she could place it on his head. He took the microphone. "Today is my last prom—our last prom—at this school. It’s kinda sad that I won’t see you guys anymore. Mr. Dean, I’ll miss you, man, you were the best." The teacher gave him a nod, emotions plain on his face. "And because it’s my last prom, I’d like to make it a special day."

  Michael got down on one knee, microphone in hand, the other hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a small box. Jennifer gasped, her heart stopping for a second. "Jennifer Morris, would you marry me?" He opened the small box to reveal a shiny ring.

  Girls screamed, boys cheered. The gymnasium was roaring with excitement. Camera flashes and shutters mingled among the cheers. Jennifer’s eyes teared up, a trembling hand covering her face. The earnest smile in her boyfriend’s eyes made her heart melt. Slowly, he extended his hand to her. She gave in and put her hand on his so he could slide the ring onto her finger. She looked down at her hand, the shiny ring sparkling under the soft lights; her hand looked different, in a good way. Michael stood up and approached her for a soft, gentle kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck; her lips lingered on his, savoring each fragment of this special moment. He pulled away slowly and looked deep into her eyes.

  "Don’t you think the name Jennifer Easterwood sounds better? I think it has a nice ring to it," he whispered.

  She giggled. "I love it. My friends have always called me Mrs. Easterwood, can you believe that? I didn’t know I’d ever be Mrs. Easterwood for real."

  A delightful laugh escaped Michael’s lips, his heart fluttered. "I’ve always told you you’d be mine."

  She chuckled softly, clearing some of the tears carefully without missing her makeup. "Is this the happily ever after we see in Disney movies?" Her eyes widened, taking in every inch of his smile like it was the last time she’d ever see it.

  "Yeah. This is our happily ever after, Jenni."

  Indeed, it was their happily ever after. Shortly after their college graduation party, Michael and Jennifer got married and moved into a new house, bought with the earnings from Michael’s growing underground business. By the age of 25, the criminal underworld whispered his name in awe. Little did they know that Michael led his friends' movements and defended them in court as well—he became a criminal defense attorney, not just the leader of one of the country's most dangerous gangs.

  His friends, too, carved out reputable roles within society. Because these men topped the hierarchy, the authorities rarely bothered them. Cyrus Leonardo, with his business administration expertise, became the group's strategist, meticulously planning their nationwide expansion. Raymond Malcolm, specializing in pharmaceutical sciences, not only helped expand their drug industries but also established a small lab in The Dead City, employing chemists, physicians, and microbiologists to run it alongside him. William Lester, a finance whiz, played a vital role in their strategies, speaking in numbers and probabilities to predict their expenses. And Michael Easterwood, having studied political science in pre-law and graduating from law school, was the backbone of the group, their indispensable leader. Without him, these gentlemen wouldn't enjoy their freedom outside prison walls.

  The last person in the group, the one no one was particularly proud of, was Rico Rodrigo. He’d dropped out of college, embracing a thug life on the streets. Got kicked out of his parents’ home due to his illegal activities. He was a castaway among his friends, the only connection he had left after losing his family and all other acquaintances.

  They maintained the habit of gathering in the lavish living room of Michael’s mansion, either to chat about their lives and drink expensive wine, or to manage their expanding drug business. Rico leaned back on the comfortable sofa, gulping down a wine whose name he couldn’t pronounce. His gaze swept over each of them, noting their sneaky glances. He looked different. Dressed in black, a T-shirt with a profane slogan stretched across his chest. Tattoos coiled around every inch of visible skin. A pocket knife peeked from his pants' waistband. Unlike the other gentlemen, who were dressed in decent casual attire, Rico was becoming less like a proper person and more like a lowlife. Even the maids at Michael’s mansion couldn’t help but shoot him concerned glances.

  But once Rico felt their stares lingering too long, he gulped down his fifth shot and slammed the glass on the coffee table.

  "What’s wrong? Am I that handsome today?" Rico laughed nervously.

  Each of them coughed and averted their gaze.

  Michael pitied the rough life his friend had been living. Blending in with street mobs, defending himself, earning respect the hard way. That wasn’t easy. Michael himself had gotten into fights with gang members back in high school too, and he still remembered the way his stomach twisted every time he had to walk home.

  Michael beamed at Rico. "How have you been recently, Rico? You’ve been away for a while."

  "Everything is good, amigo." Rico gulped down another shot. Silence settled in.

  Michael turned to Cyrus and set his glass down. "How’s little Vincent doing?"

  Cyrus’s face lit up, a wide smile spreading across it. "He’s growing fast. Tough like his father. How is your baby girl? Leah told me that Jennifer’s been having a tough time recently."

  Michael beamed with pride. "You should be asking, ‘How are my baby girls doing?’ Two days ago, we were at the doctor’s. Turns out we’re expecting twin girls. Due September fifteenth."

  Gasps and congratulations filled the room. Even Rico’s face brightened.

  "Wait until they turn two, and you’ll be living in hell," Raymond sighed. "Last night, I pulled my son, Alex, out of the fridge. He was stuck. Don’t ask me how he got in there. I was one step away from losing my mind."

  William nodded. "It’s hard trying to keep up with them."

  A laugh escaped Rico’s lips. "My girlfriend’s pregnant too. I can’t imagine leading our guys in the streets and changing diapers."

  Heads snapped to him. Eyes widened. Brows furrowed.

  "Rico," Michael said slowly, "you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend."

  Rico’s smile flickered. He blinked. "You guys don’t know I have a girlfriend?"

  Cyrus chimed in, "You’ve never brought her to any of our parties."

  A depressing smile touched Rico’s lips. "I thought you guys wouldn’t like her, so I never brought her over."

  Michael’s voice rose. "Come on, man, we’re a family. We bring our wives and kids to these parties because we’re one big family." He grinned. "Next party, bring her. We’d love to meet her."

  Rico chuckled, colors returning to his face. "Sure, amigo. She’ll be happy to come over, but she doesn’t like white people music."

  "Who likes white people music?" William giggled.

  They laughed lightheartedly, agreeing that none of them were fans of pop music at the time.

  Cyrus turned to Michael. "When are you planning to have a party for your daughters?"

  Michael’s face lit up once more. "I was thinking September twentieth or something."

  Cyrus hummed with a nod. "Sounds good."

  Jennifer’s concern about keeping the due date and party plans from his friends simmered in his head, but he masked it with a smile and rose from his seat "I’ll be back in a minute."

  He grabbed a small jewelry box hidden in a guest room and went to Jennifer’s art room. She was sitting on a couch Michael had installed for her after she became pregnant, knowing that the wooden stool would soon be too small for her increasingly large body. Her head was resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed, a hand resting on her swollen belly. As soon as she heard footsteps, she shot upright, but seeing it was her husband, she let go of the breath she’d been holding.

  "You invited these assholes again?" Her tone was sharp, edged with exhaustion and fear. "Haven’t I told you these people are dangerous to us?"

  Michael sat down next to her quietly, his gentle tone enough to soothe her. "Yes, honey, we have talked about that a lot." Before she could continue with her broken record of fears, he went on, "I know you’re concerned they may hurt our girls. I get it. But they have children too. Isn’t that irrational, babe?"

  She took a deep breath, sinking back into the couch, her chest heaving. "I don’t know. I just have these thoughts that something might happen to us because of them."

  He set the small box down beside him and shuffled closer to her, taking her hand. "Honey, I know the chaos that’s been going on recently is making you anxious. The police chasing us, the weird attacks on my business, and everything else. But we have men working for us, they are standing outside our door 24/7 to keep us safe, and not just outside our house, but everywhere we go."

  The phone in his back pocket buzzed.

  The tip of his finger touched her ring. He gazed at it and laughed. "You’re still wearing the ring I gave you back in high school? Don’t you like the new diamond ring?"

  Her heaving chest settled, she chuckled. "I like this one. It reminds me of our school days." Her eyes caught the box. "What’s that?"

  He opened the box for her, revealing a glossy pearl necklace shimmering in the golden rays of the setting sun. "I saw you looking at it last night, so I got it for you."

  She took the necklace, a grin stretching over her face as she inspected it. "It looks so cute, even better than in pictures. Thank you, babe." She leaned in to give him a peck on the lips.

  "How about I take you on a date tonight and you wear it? I’m sure it’ll look amazing on you."

  The phone in his pocket buzzed again. His breath hitched for a moment.

  "Tonight? I thought you had some work to do tonight."

  He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "I can change my plans for you, because you’re the only thing that matters in my life."

  Her cheeks flushed. He leaned down to kiss her one more time.

  The phone buzzed once more.

  Michael stood up abruptly, startling his wife. "I have to make a phone call now to cancel my meetings and reserve our favorite restaurant."

  He paced outside, closed the door softly, then snatched the buzzing phone from his pocket. He couldn’t believe even after putting his phone on mute, it had almost given him away.

  "Vivian! I told you to stop calling when I’m home!" he shouted in a hushed tone as he walked away from the art room.

  "But what can I do? I missed you!" The mistress’s soft, playful voice melted away his frustration. "I can’t wait to see you tonight, Mikey."

  "We can’t meet tonight. I had a client who reserved an urgent meeting with me. Said it was a great deal," he glanced at the door that was getting further, "and if he didn’t have me tomorrow in court, his whole family would be behind bars for life. Maybe tomorrow when I’m done."

  She whined, "Clients, meetings, court. You always give me these lame excuses. Just say you don’t want to see me again!"

  Even at the end of the corridor, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the closed door. "Babe, of course I want to see you. But you know how busy I am."

  She sighed, "Tomorrow night, then?"

  He hummed, "I’ll pick you up at eight."

  IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!

  Arc 1 is officially over.

  welcome to my world!