happy 'cuz i'm free

AKEEM TURE BELL

gangbanger, youngblood, bad influence, good time

Akeem was, to put it mildly, a man on a mission. He'd never been very motivated-- not in school or in any "real" job he'd ever had-- but convincing Max to leave Hawkins felt like life or death. And... maybe it kind of was, considering last time he was locked up he'd played the field too liberally, you know? Guy's gotta eat! But, to prove his dedication to the cause, Akeem found himself pulling up at the Hawkins Library, parking in a spot clearly marked 'reserved', and rolling inside with confusion written on his face.

He'd never been in a library before, much to his not-dad's chagrin. He'd definitely been in the parking lot of a library-- great place to unload baggies on Fridays when the high schoolers were milling home for the weekend. But like, inside? To like, look at the books and shit? It had never caught his interest before. Akeem figured anything he needed to know, he'd learn in the greatest classroom of all: the streets.

Akeem weaved his way through a few aisles, stopping briefly in the sports section when he spotted a magazine about Larry Bird, the fucking white hack, but then he refocused. Rolled his shoulders. Spotted somebody who looked like they knew what they were doing. He ignored every detail about her that indicated she wanted to be left alone and approached with a wave.

"Hey, uh, 'scuse me? Miss?" he waved again, in her face. "You look like you could help a brother out-- I'm looking for, like, history and shit. Of the local variety, you know?" He leaned in, peering at her face. She didn't look white. "You know when they integrated and shit? Or about any, like, local hate crimes? I'm researchin' something."

As much as Akeem thought Hawkins was... well, whack, everytime he got a call from Cole Montgomery, he was reminded all over again how glad he was to be here and not in LA. He didn't know what Max was thinking, leaving him with some white dude who did labor law. The fuck did labor have to do with Akeem? He went out of his way not to labor, and Max knew that damn well.

But, well, there was other shit on her mind, obviously, and Akeem had basically decided that she wouldn't ditch town until that one kid was found, so he decided to do his part. He didn't really have a flashlight or anything, but he had a lighter, which he brought with him on the trail by the lake. Of course, pulling the lighter out reminded him that it'd been at least two hours since his last hit, and he couldn't do something as fucked up as look for a missing kid sober, could he?

So Akeem lit up in the woods, puffed on his joint, and held his lighter up as if it was illuminating anything other than his own hands. It was so dark that he didn't even notice the other until their shoulders brushed, and Akeem let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, shit, you're that dude!" he exclaimed, clicking his lighter to inspect the man's face. Yup. It was him-- the guy who'd been... weird at the school but then, like, way cooler later. They had to stick together, anyway.

"'Sup, man, what you doing out here? You need a ride?" Akeem hadn't seen any other cars in the parking lot... or, at least, he was too distracted trying to stash his stash in the trunk so no fucking kids got too nosy. But anyways, he rocked forwards on his feet toward the dude. "You need a hit?" he offered, before thinking again. "Who are you, by the way?"

Not only was Hawkins fucking whack as fuck, it was a town crawling with cops. Not, like, actual cops-- though he'd seen too many for his liking-- but, everybody felt like it was their duty to be a narc. At least, that's what he'd gathered when he'd been rustled out of his sleep half past noon with stern instructions from the hotel manager to 'stop playing his loud music and smoking whatever smelled like that' or be kicked out. Man, who did that? It's the twenty-first century!

But, he'd complied, maybe only because he was currently dodging a court date back home... and Max would probably kill him if he got into shit here. So, he did a lap at Walmart, bought some snacks, asked a few folks if they were looking to score, and promptly retreated to his car when they looked at him like he had a flesh-eating virus. God, people here were so boring.

Akeem's arm hung out over the side of his car and he tapped along to '6 'N the Mornin' blaring through his speakers. He figured it was the least he could do while he was in town to educate the populace on real music. West Coast type shit. He got lost in the chorus, squeezing his eyes shut and rapping along in between puffs on his joint, and was pleasantly surprised to see a girl peering into his car when he opened his eyes.

"Yo, you trying to score somethin'?" he asked, eager smile softening his features. "Cash only, but I got good shit... California shit, know what I mean?" When she didn't seem convinced, he held the joint out the window. "Try before you buy?"