Hakim drove through uptown and Mark watched Downtown Brookhaven fall away in the rearview. The broken _Welcome to Downtown Brookhaven_ sign got smaller, then disappeared. In its place: cleaner streets, buildings without bullet holes, air that didn't smell like smoke and rust.
It looked like the America from the Disney movies he'd watched back in Harare. The America he thought was real before the plane landed a week ago.
"Wow."
The word slipped out before Mark could catch it.
"I know, right. It's like a totally different place." Hakim kept both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. His shoulders weren't as tense as they were downtown.
Uptown didn't just look safer. It _felt_ safer. No BLUE tags on the walls. No kid watching you from a rooftop with a smile that meant trouble.
Austin closed his book with a soft snap. That was his tell. Done reading.
"Uptown has always been safer than Downtown. By a large margin."
"Why's that?" Mark asked. Genuine. He wasn't trying to be smart. He just didn't get it.
"Because uptown is where the rich live." Adrian's jacket was draped over the dashboard. He lounged in the passenger seat like he owned it. Lollipop stuck between perfect white teeth.
Mark expected that answer. It was obvious. Harare had neighborhoods like that too. Places where people slept in boxes and stole bread to eat. But Downtown Brookhaven had taken that and turned the volume up ten times. Crime wasn't survival here. It was a sport. A rite of passage.
That thought sat heavy in Mark's chest. He didn't like it. Not one bit. But what was he supposed to do about it? He could barely do five pushups without his ribs screaming.
So he pushed it down. Changed the subject.
"So Adrian. Where are we going?"
Adrian twisted in his seat, grin sharp enough to cut glass. The lollipop bobbed as he spoke.
"We're going to my side hustle, man."
Mark nodded. He'd been curious about all their jobs since day one. Connor's gig. Hakim's driving. Austin's tutoring. But Adrian's had always been the mystery. The money he moved, the respect he commanded, the way people got quiet when his name came up.
Now he was about to see it for himself. Maybe he could pick something up for himself too. Part-time. Something that paid better than "get folded by Tom Hanks and bite his leg."
---
Golden Boulevard was a different world. The streets were clean enough to eat off. The people walked without looking over their shoulders. No BLUE tags. No burnt-out cars. No kid with a taser in his waistband.
Hakim slowed the car to a crawl as Adrian pointed out the window.
"There."
A park. Green grass. Sunlight hitting water fountains. And a crowd of people with cameras clustered around a girl who looked about their age. She was striking. Fashion-forward outfit. Black hair with streaks of blue catching the light like a bad omen or a good paycheck.
"Stop here, bro. We can walk the rest of the way."
Adrian pushed the door open before Hakim fully parked. The rest of them followed. Mark kept his hands in his pockets. Out of habit. Downtown made you keep them there.
The closer they got, the clearer it became. This wasn't a casual meetup. Tripods. Reflectors. A crew. This was a photoshoot.
Adrian spread his arms wide, walking backward toward the set like he owned the runway.
"Welcome to my office. My workplace. My haven from home."
He struck a T-pose. Grin locked in.
He didn't get to say another word.
_WHACK._
A shoe nailed him straight in the forehead.
"YOU LITTLE PUNK! YOU'RE LATE!!!"
The voice came with a blur of brown hair and a fist. The woman who'd thrown the shoe was already on him, yanking him into a full Nelson. Her eyes were sharp even when she was furious.
"I'm sorry, Jenna! I had a detour to make!" Adrian's grin was now 80% nervous sweat.
"Oh, I know all about that detour." Jenna's grip tightened. Her fist clenched. "And I know about the damages you caused."
"W-wait, I can explain—"
He didn't get to.
_THWACK. THWACK. THWACK._
Jenna's punches landed in perfect comedic rhythm. Adrian's head bobbed with each hit. The boys winced in unison. Connor didn't wince. He pulled out his phone, camera rolling.
"Oh, this is the best leverage I've gained all year." Connor muttered, grin evil.
Five minutes. Five minutes of Adrian getting his ass kicked in broad daylight. Mark couldn't decide if he should feel bad or laugh. Probably both.
Finally, Jenna let him go. Adrian straightened up, adjusted his jacket, and stood tall like nothing happened. His hair was a mess. One cheek was red. But he was grinning.
Now Mark could see her clearly. Long brown hair. Matching brown eyes. She looked carefree on the surface. The kind of person who'd laugh at a joke and buy you coffee. But her eyes didn't miss anything. Competent. Dangerous, if she wanted to be.
Jenna grinned wide.
"Right, Adrian. Care to introduce me?"
"Of course." Adrian smoothed his hair, trying to recover his dignity. "Guys, this mons— I mean _woman_ is my aunt Jenna. Aunt Jenna, these are my friends. Hakim. Austin. Connor. And Mark."
He said it with a grin, but Mark caught it. That split-second hesitation before "woman." Adrian almost called her a monster. And from the look in her eyes, she'd earned it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
Hakim stepped forward first, hand out. The rest followed. Even Connor put his phone down for two seconds. Jenna shook each hand with a firm grip and a grin that said she'd already sized them up.
"Likewise."
Then she grabbed Adrian by the ear and dragged him toward the set where the girl with blue-streaked hair was waiting.
"Stacey's been waiting an hour, Adrian. Go change." Jenna released him with a flick of her wrist.
"We're on it." Adrian jogged off, snatching a garment bag from the ground and heading for the building behind the set. Stacey followed without a word, arms crossed.
"That boy." Jenna shook her head, hands on her hips. "Zero regard for anyone's time."
She turned back to the group, posture shifting from enforcer to host.
"So. You boys want to see where the magic happens? Good. Follow me."
She led them toward the cluster of cameramen adjusting tripods and lenses. The air smelled like coffee and fabric spray.
"This is Josh. Head cameraman." Jenna motioned to a man crouched by a tree, snapping photos of birds. He didn't look up.
Josh was locked in. Focused. The kind of focus Mark had only seen when Hakim threw a punch or Austin analyzed a fight.
"Man's invested in his work, huh?" Hakim said, arms crossed, laid-back smile in place.
"He gets like that." Jenna smiled as she tapped Josh's shoulder. "Hey. Josh. Adrian's friends are here. Maybe teach them something."
Josh stood up, brushing dirt off his jeans. He looked them over and smiled.
"Pleasure to meet you all. Adrian talks about you a lot."
"So what were you shooting?" Hakim asked, casual.
"Trying to find the right lens for reaction shots." Josh held up the camera. "Tested it on birds first. Less likely to punch me if I mess up."
"That the Aoa PS40?" Austin's voice shifted. Excitement cut through his usual stammer.
Josh's chest puffed out. "Yeah. It's my pride and joy."
That was it. Austin and Josh were gone. Technical jargon flew. Shutter speed. Aperture. ISO. Mark understood maybe 10% of it. But he watched Austin's eyes light up for the first time since the cafeteria fight.
It made Mark smile. Because for once, the peace around them felt real. Not like a trap. Not like a setup. Just... normal.
He realized something then. Peace in the area he lived in wasn't normal. It was a privilege. One he didn't have yet.
The tour kept going. Jenna introduced them to the lighting crew. The stylist. The kid running coffee. Each person had a role. Each person looked like they actually liked it.
For Mark, it was eye-opening. He needed a job soon. Something real. Something that paid. Watching them work gave him ideas. Not just for survival. For something he could do with his hands besides fight.
When they circled back to the main set, Adrian and Stacey came out.
Street-style formal. Clean lines. Sharp cuts. It looked expensive. It looked like them.
"Hope we didn't keep you long, everyone." Adrian threw an arm around Stacey's shoulder like it was routine.
Stacey immediately removed it. Calm. No anger. Just habit.
"How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"It just happened in the heat of the moment." Adrian grinned, easy as breathing.
"I don't want to give people the wrong idea. Don't do that again, okay?" Stacey said it without breaking stride.
"Fine, fine." Adrian conceded with a smile, popped a lollipop into his mouth.
"You know if you keep eating those, your teeth will decay." Stacey's voice stayed light. Almost teasing.
Adrian just shrugged. She shook her head and smiled anyway.
---
The set came alive. Adrian and Stacey fell into rhythm like they'd done this a hundred times. Pose. Snap. Adjust. Snap again. Their chemistry on camera was clean. Professional. No wasted movement. The clothes looked expensive. They looked expensive.
After ten shots, Mark slipped away from the group.
"Hey. Where can I find the nearest tap?" He kept his voice low and polite.
"Behind that building." Jenna pointed without looking up from her tablet.
"Thanks."
It didn't take long to find it. Mark took his time. Washed the dried blood off his face. Rinsed the copper taste out of his mouth. The bruises on his jaw were still faint but visible. He couldn't hide them all, but he could hide enough.
Then he sat down. Back against the cool brick. Just breathed.
These jobs weren't just about money. He'd realized that watching the crew. The way Josh focused on a bird. The way Austin's eyes lit up talking about lenses. The way Stacey carried herself like she owned the space without demanding it.
It gave people purpose. Joy. Something outside of survival.
He needed that. But what? He didn't know where to start. He didn't even know what he was good at besides taking hits and biting.
"Hey there."
The voice was light. Easy.
Mark looked up. Stacey stood by the tap, filling a water bottle. The blue streaks in her hair caught the sunlight.
"What are you doing here by yourself?"
"Just… thinking about a decision." Mark stared ahead instead of at her. Easier that way.
"I've got a few minutes." She sat beside him, not too close, not too far. "Talking helps. More than you think."
Mark's heart rate jumped. He wasn't used to being this close to a girl like her. His face didn't show it. Years of Downtown had trained that out of him. But his fist clenched. Small. Tight. The tell he couldn't control.
Luckily, Stacey didn't know him yet.
"It's been a week since I moved here from Zimbabwe." Mark's voice was steady. "I've been learning how to survive. One of those things is getting a job. I thought I wouldn't need to worry about that until after I graduated."
She didn't interrupt. Just listened. Eyes on him. Not pity. Not curiosity. Attention.
Mark cleared his throat. "I don't know where to start. Any advice?"
Stacey nodded slow. "Yeah. I get it. I was there once." She looked up at the sky. "Here's a secret. The first job you take isn't usually the one you keep. I did a lot before modeling. Most people do. Humans aren't meant to stick to one thing forever."
Mark blushed. Quick. He looked down before she could catch it. Her smile did something to him. Made the brick wall behind him feel less cold.
"I guess you're right."
"Hey. Give me your number."
Mark blinked. "W-what?"
"I might have an opening for your first job." Stacey held out her phone, calm and direct. "I'll contact you once I confirm it."
"Okay." Mark took the phone, punched in his number, saved it under his name.
"Mark." She said it like she was testing it. "I'll remember that."
She stood and walked back toward the set without another word.
The second she was gone, Mark leaned back and hit the ground with a quiet thud. He stared at the sky, breathing hard.
_I just got a girl's number._
The thought hit him and his face burned. He covered it with his arm.
---
Mark lay on the ground, staring at the sky. The number was still in his phone. Stacey's name. That was real. That wasn't a fight or a threat or a war declaration.
He didn't know where that job would take him. Didn't know if it would lead to money, or trouble, or something in between. That was the future.
And the future wasn't Brookhaven's problem right now.
Only the present mattered.
The cool brick against his back. The faint ache in his ribs. The quiet of Golden Boulevard. The fact that for once, he wasn't running. He wasn't fighting. He was just breathing.
That was enough.