Baby Rabbit and The Old Man

The Impala sat quietly in the darkness, beneath the protective shadow of the old oak tree. It's two occupants sat in silence, their attention focused on the modest one story home across the street.

The driver was a tall, lean man in his early 20s. His name was Juan Castillo, but his street name - as used in the gang with which he was affiliated, The Street Kings - was Snake Eyes, a moniker her earned for his intense stare that seemed to penetrate it's recipient to their very core.

His hair was closely shaven on the back and sides, and it's thick mop on top was slicked back. His square jawline had a pencil thin beard outlining it, connected to a slightly thicker mustache. He was wearing a white tank top and blue jeans, a.45 tucked into the back of his pants.

Beside him, in the passenger seat, sat the diminutive form of Roxanne DeLaCruz. She was 5'0" maybe, with her gold and brown hair currently in a ponytail, coming out the back of a baseball cap she wore low over her eyes.

She might have been short, but she was proportioned beautifully. Her legs, though short, weren't stubby, and she had beautiful, thick, caramel colored thighs, which were currently being shown off in her denim shorts. Her hips were wide and ideal for breeding; her midsection was thick without being fat. Her breasts were a fat set of C-Cups, but tonight they were hidden beneath an oversized baseball jersey.

Roxanne had just turned 18 the day before. She was the baby sister of Juan's homeboy, Benito, whose street name was B-Money. Roxanne had been riding Benito's ass about joining the crew, but he had been initially reluctant. He didn't want her at risk of being caught up in the violent life, or throwing her youth away behind bars.

But she had been insistent. Not only was Benito in the Street Kings, but so was her cousin Pete ( Mad Dog ) and her boyfriend, Carlos ( Psycho ). So, Benito and Juan conferred, and hatched this plan - if she could successfully pull off this heist they had been planning, she was in.

They all ready had a name for her, the same nickname she had carried with her for as long as she could remember - Baby Rabbit. This name had been given to her not just because of her short stature, but also for her wiry nature and her speed - especially the rapidity with which she often landed herself in trouble, and the swiftness with which she escaped it.

And so, Snake Eyes and Baby Rabbit sat in silence, casing out this house, until finally Snake Eyes snapped his fingers, ensuring Baby Rabbit's attention, and pointed at a certain area of the house - the kitchen window, where Rabbit saw a sad, hobbled old man, shuffling towards the sink in a blue bathrobe, huge oversized, outdated eye glasses perched on his nose.

"There he is; that's the guy," Snake Eyes said in Spanish. Rabbit narrowed her eyes to get a better look at him - it was hard to gauge his size from here, but in order to have his shoulders and head visible from the streets through that window, she figured that he had to be at least 5'11" - 6'.

He looked like he probably had your typical old man body, she guessed, though she couldn't see below his shoulders and chest. He didn't look like a huge, fat old man, so more likely he had your typical old man bloat - slight pudgy tummy, maybe a small set of old man boobies. This thought made her giggle quietly to herself.

Beyond that, he had a bald dome with some remaining wisps of thin white hair sloped across it, and a furrowed crown of white hair from ear to ear. His face was deeply lined and wrinkled, he was clean shaven, and his cheeks and jowls hung low. Two bright, sad blue eyes peered behind his glasses.

"So what's so special about this old white man anyways?" Rabbit asked, almost impatiently. "Is he like loaded or something?"

"Maybe," Snake Eyes answered, "maybe not. Fucker probably has a stash or a safe somewhere in that house. But that's not what you're going to be going in for."

Rabbit looked over at him, a quizzical look on her youthful, cute face. "It's not? So why the hell am I going to be going in there?"

"This fucker has a veritable pharmacy in there," Juan said, raising his eyebrows for added emphasis. "The good shit. Lots of it, too. I'm talking Hydros, Oxys, Valiums, Xanax... bottles of the shit. They keep sending them to him but he barely uses them. Fucker won't even miss them."

Rabbit considered these words for a second and then continued to watch the old man as he washed out his coffee cup in the sink, placed it aside, and walked out of the kitchen, turning the light off as he exited.

"So that's it? Just grab this old man's pills and I'm in? Anyone else live there?"

"Nah, he's alone. Wife died about 10 years ago. Some girl my cousin is fucking comes over here about 3 times a week to check on him, that's how we found out about it. She even made us a key, so you ain't gotta worry about breaking in. Tomorrow night, he goes to bed... you let yourself in, take his shit, back out... boom boom, in and out in like 10 minutes. And then you're one of us!"

Baby Rabbit looked over at Snake Eyes and smiled, then returned her attention to the house, now standing dark and quiet.

She had been wanting this, and now they were giving her a chance. They were trusting her with this mission. She took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

She could do this.

She WOULD do this.

***************************************************

Herman MacCallister was a solitary person. Or, at least, he had become one once his beloved Dolores passed on a decade ago, called home by The Lord after a seemingly endless fight with cancer.

That ordeal had taken a lot out of both of them. For certain, it robbed her of her vitality, her spark, her health, and ultimately her life; but for Herman, it killed a part of his soul. There was nothing to compare with watching the love of your life slowly get eaten up from the inside, every day in pain, and all you can do is watch.

Part of him desperately wished he had died alongside her, while another part of him felt like it did.

Their children - two girls and a boy - were now grown and nearing middle age; they had families of their own. Providence and the pursuit of prosperity had spread them throughout the country, and now, an 80 year old widower, he was all but forgotten by his family outside of the obligatory holiday card, call or text. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen any of his grandchildren.

Did they miss him? Hell, did they even remember him?

His oldest boy, Dale, had become a successful engineer and moved to Texas. Shortly after Dolores had passed, Dale did, to his credit, try and get Herman to move in with him and his. family in Texas.

"We have a carriage house in the back that we're not even using," he had said. "You'll have your own space; your independence. But you won't be alone anymore. It'll be the best of both worlds!"

Dale had always been a good kid, and it was a very generous offer. Hell, Herman actually almost took him up in it. But this house had been his and Dolores' for over fifty years, and that was hard to walk away from.

And yeah, sure, the neighborhood had changed. But all of Florida had changed. Herman had accepted long ago that life was all about change, and if you didn't learn to accept that, and make your peace with it, then you were likely to get left behind.

Pure Darwinism. Evolve or die.

Accepting that fact made it easier for him to accept it when, one by one, their children fled the nest, and over the years became little more than passing acquaintances. Accepting that fact enabled him to be at peace as his once quiet and docile neighborhood changed over the years, from upper middle class, career and family oriented neighbors to a far more ethically and financially diverse neighborhood.

Sure, it was louder, and seemingly there was always a party or something at a neighboring house that resulted in far more parked cars than any one driveway was capable of housing. And yes, more than once that meant that a strange car or two ended up parked in Herman's driveway, or sometimes his house. But Herman rarely left the house anymore, so it wasn't like it was a big issue.

And this change, this evolution in his neighborhood enabled Herman to meet people he might not have otherwise met, and get exposed to cultures he might have otherwise dismissed as strange or alien. He was thankful for this, for he felt it enriched him as a person, and helped open his eyes to the commonalities of man that lingered beneath the surface.

As Herman told Dale, just because the neighborhood wasn't predominantly white anymore didn't also mean that it was no longer safe. After a while, Dale accepted his father's stance on the issue, and dropped the matter all together.

But not all changes were so easy to accept.

The house was so quiet, so empty, so dark without Dolores. And Herman was more alone than ever - alone to dwell on his thoughts, to dwell on how empty he and the house were. Alone to meditate on just how much he really missed her.

Herman sighed as he stripped himself of his pajamas and climbed into bed, completely nude. It helped him to sleep better in these humid Florida summer evenings, and besides, it wasn't like there was anyone around to see his nudity.

Well, aside from his dutiful black Labrador Retriever, Carson, that is. If it wasn't for Carson, Herman would hate to consider his quality of life, or what he might be driven to do.

As if on cue, as Herman pulled the covers up to his chest, Carson came bolting out of the hallway and bounded onto the bed, right beside his master. He did the obligatory two circle spin dogs feel compelled to do, before finally laying down beside Herman, his chin resting upon Herman's thigh. Herman patted his head softly.

"G'night, Carson," he croaked, before silently bidding the spirit of his beloved Dolores a good night as well.

***************************************************

All day during school, Roxanne found it difficult to pay attention. A knot of excitement formed in her stomach, and she felt like she was about to bounce out of her skin. She was so incredibly ready for the task ahead of her tonight and prove herself that she could barely contain herself. After all, she was now finally 18 years old - a legal adult!

But that wasn't the source of her nervous excitement.

After school, she and Carlos were at her mother's apartment, and as she sat at the table with him, she found herself literally bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Damn, Baby Rabbit, you really are hopping tonight," Carlos teased her. "Baby Bunny want a carrot, ay? I got a carrot for you," he said, reaching over and running his hand up and down her tummy.

Roxanne slapped his hand away. "Not now, Psycho" she chided him in Spanish. "I'm trying to stay in the zone, mentally. I'm ready to show y'all what I got!"

Carlos chuckled, and put both his hands on her hips, pulling her closer towards him, and moving his lips closer to her neck. "Ay, I all ready know what you got. And ain't nobody else need to know what you got. That's all mine, right?"

Carlos a/k/a Psycho was 18 years old, same as Roxanne. But he had dropped out of school, and mainly spent his time hustling for money. He wasn't much taller than Roxanne, clocking in at around 5'3". He had his head shaved closely to the scalp, and tried to grow a mustache but was seemingly incapable of growing much more than a faint outline of whiskers.

He was also heavyset, his chubby tummy spilling over his pants, and his white tank top a little too tight, emphasizing his man boobs and love handles.

They really were quite a mismatch. Though Roxanne tried desperately to portray herself as hard, or from the streets, her cute, naturally sweet demeanor worked against her. Perhaps that was why she was so desperate to pull tonight off - to show that she wasn't just some cute little girl. She was just as tough as anyone else on the block.

Her hair was straight, and went down to her neckline. It was parted in the middle, and was naturally gold and brown. Her eyes were wide and innocent, and her lips were full and pouty. A combination of good genetics and even better skin made her look younger than her 18 years, and practically everyone who saw her had to do a double take. She was just so damn cute and naturally attractive, that not only did she look out of place in her rough neighborhood, but she could easily pass for a model, or perhaps an influencer or personality.

If nothing else, absolutely nobody knew what the hell she saw in Carlos, or knew how the hell he pulled her. More than one of his closest friends and homeboys plotted secretly behind his back to rob him of her.

However, for now, at the table, Roxanne continued to rebuff Carlos' physical advances, pushing him back onto his seat. "Cut it out, Psycho" she growled. "My mom will be back any minute. Besides, if you fuck me it's gonna make me sleepy and slow, and I don't need that kind of shit tonight. Okay?!"

Properly chided, Psycho slumped back into his chair. "Okay, okay, okay. But tonight? When you get back? That ass is MINE!"

Roxanne said nothing in response but simply rolled her eyes. Sex with her boyfriend didn't concern her right now - especially considering how short and disappointing it usually was.

No, the only thing on her mind was tonight, and she was eager to get everything lined up and planned out. "So who's gonna drive me over there tonight? You, or Snake Eyes?"

"Neither," Psycho said, as he casually placed a cigarette between his lips. "Monster's gonna do it."

Baby Rabbit gulped audibly as she lowered her eyes, absent mindedly watching her hands as they nervously fidgeted with her phone atop the table.

Monster was the only other girl affiliated with the crew. Rabbit didn't know too much about her, other than the fact that her real first name was Sonja, and she was 19. Other than that, she was tall - at least 5'11" - and had long, straight, dark hair. She had an athletic build and was rumored to lift weights - she had a nose piercing on her left nostril and a brow piercing on her right eyebrow. She had a sleeve of tatts on her left arm, and some neck tatts visible above her collar. She almost always wore a baseball cap low around her eyes, and when everyone was together, she usually stood in the back while everyone else sat, arms folded as she watched silently.

Even some of the guys in the crew were kind of intimidated by her. Nobody fucked with her, and none of the guys ever seemed to make a move on her, so a few months ago, one of the guys in the crew who went by the name of Killa started telling everyone that she was gay. Under the circumstances, most people didn't seem to have many issues believing this, but once it got back to Monster, she confronted Killa and beat his ass so bad he was actually in the hospital for a couple of days.

Considering that Killa was 6'1" and 200 pounds, this was no mean feat. So after that day, the crew accepted two unspoken facts as gospel - 1) Monster is NOT a lesbian, and 2) don't fuck with Monster.

This second fact reverberated around Rabbit's head as a hundred different scenarios ran through her head. Having lit his cigarette, Psycho leaned way back in his seat, arms folded behind his head and his feet resting on the table as he took a long drag off it. He looked over at his nervous girlfriend and chuckled.

"Don't be scared, stupit" he teased her. "Monster ain't gon' hurt you and she ain't gon' rape you neither. Supposedly she all about that dick." He offered Rabbit the cigarette, which Rabbit politely declined with a wave of her hand.

Shrugging, Psycho returned the cigarette to his lips and took another puff. " 'Sides, you gon' want someone like Monster there with you in case things go sideways. You know she won't think twice about throwing down if this old man decides to act the fool."

Rabbit scrunched up her face in consternation, slowly turning to look over at Psycho. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? 'In case things go sideways'? 'In case he throws down'? What the FUCK, Psycho? Does this old man have guns or something?"

Psycho shrugged, lazily scratching his belly. "I dunno. I don't know how thoroughly they cased out the house. He might have guns - hell, he might have money in a safe or something! Main thing is those meds. If he has guns or cash, shit - grab those too!"

Rabbit let loose a string of profanities in Spanish as she forcefully scooted her chair back and stood to her feet. "You don't even KNOW if this old mother fucker is strapped or not?! What the FUCK, Psycho?! You not even concerned about sending your girlfriend in there by herself to maybe get fucking SHOT?!"

Psycho rolled his eyes, as he removed his legs from the table and sat up straight. "Calm the fuck down, Baby Rabbit. You probably ain't gonna get shot. And asides, you ain't gon' be by yourself neither - I just done told you that Monster is gon' be there with you!"

But Rabbit had all ready stormed off to her room and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Carlos to himself. Sighing, Carlos stood to his feet and made his way over to the fridge, to see what groceries Roxanne's mom had awaiting him.

Fucking bitches, he thought to himself.

***************************************************

Herman stood at his back door, watching as Carson ran the fence line, and waiting for him to relieve himself before he allowed him back into the house.

It had been a pretty busy day. His Puerto Rican assistant, a tall, buxom girl named Miranda stopped by the house this morning to check on him, and help him do some pretty basic stretches and exercises. After she helped him make himself a breakfast and fed Carson, she left, reminding him that she would return in two days.

Yes, it was expensive paying for that service, but between his insurance and the money he had nestled away, he could definitely afford it. Besides, it was nice having another human presence come by the house and keep him company three times a week, even if her concern for him was completely superficial. She was friendly and Herman had to admit that she was sexy as hell.

But, more importantly, Carson seemed to like her.

After she left, Herman got dressed, bid Carson adieu, and went to get his monthly check ups. After being poked and prodded, he returned home with a bustling bag packed full of a myriad of medications.

Pain pills, sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, you name it, and they probably prescribed him a medication for it. He dutifully stocked them in his kitchen cupboard, taking care to rotate the older ones to the front in his impressive collection.

He never took them himself; not wanting to develop a dependency at this late stage in life, and also preferring to keep his head unclouded and clear. But he still continued to fill the prescriptions and take the bottles home, if for no other reason than life was uncertain and you never knew when you might find yourself in need.

After that, he prepared Carson a can of his finest Alpo, and cooked himself a Swanson Hungry Man meal ( although Herman only ate roughly half of it, making him dutifully reflect upon the fact that maybe he wasn't a Hungry Man. Carson had no such issues eating his dinner).

Together they watched a movie that attracted Herman's attention because it starred Burt Reynolds, who Dolores used to always describe as "the last true leading man." Herman had never heard of or seen this movie before, called "Boogie Nights," so he elected to give it a shot.

As the credits rolled, Herman absent mindedly patted the head of the sleeping Carson, rolled up into a ball beside him. He was trying to process his thoughts on what he had just seen, and didn't know where to begin.

***************************************************