To Protect and To Serve

Yay! Sasuke and Naruto had sex again! And there was an itty bit of KakaIru! That makes me happy. There will be no NaruHina in this chapter or ever in the course of this story, even if this chapter makes you think otherwise.

-Naruto-
They are arguing about a hit they have to make because someone is selling drugs in their territory. I listen carefully and dutifully transcribe it into my notebook. I share it with the agents. We're all tired but we can't become bored. Bored means you're letting your guard down and then someone dies. I wake up later that night and stare at the digital clock on the wobbly nightstand. The green numbers glow 9:25 PM. I roll over on my front, exhaling. Somebody barges into the room. I turn and smile lazily when I see Hinata. We share this room. She curls up next to me. “You sure slept hard.”
“I thought I’d sleep all night…”
“You feel that comfortable here?”
I shrug.
“You sure went to bed early.”
I crawled in here at six. “Hinata, I was so tired…” I protest. She nods. I yawn. We hear footsteps outside the door and I quickly roll on top of her. Hinata blushes profusely and we turn to look at Claudia, who hurriedly exits the room. I apologize quietly for the impulsiveness of my actions and Hinata responds kindly, just as quietly. It got us the privacy we needed though. I roll away from Hinata and towards the wall, yawning again.

“Naruto, are we seeing the other agents tonight?”
“Not unless someone has anything new…which I doubt at this hour.”
“Okay.”
Hinata and I change into our pajamas. She falls asleep quickly, despite the fact she doesn’t feel comfortable in a house full of gang members. Neither do I, really. I lie awake. I can’t call Sasuke for sex two days in a row. Maybe I should try drinking some liquid form valerian root since I doubt the ability of sleeping pills. I’m not horny anyway. Still tired from last night! I am curious about Sasuke, and I’d like to see him again. Trying not to think about the investigation, I will my body to relax. Maybe tomorrow we’ll find out more.

There’s about thirty girls and women, all chattering loudly and excitedly. Eleven different conversations, maybe more, float through the air. Rosario, Hianata and I are sharing funny stories. “Everyone at my high school thought the gangsta walk was all that,” Hinata stands up and imitates it, “but I always thought it looked like they were thinking, ‘I have a cramp in my leg, I have a cramp in my leg.’” Rosario explodes into laughter. It’s the greatest sound, and sight—she seems so sad and she’s so serious the rest of the time. It’s been a month, and she hasn’t opened up to anyone at all. Hinata and I haven’t really, either, though. “I got my wisdom teeth pulled…they had to put me on laughing gas,” I grin at the memory. “And they had to keep turning the knob on the machine up and up….and then it squeaked. I laughed really hard because it was the funniest thing in the world. It squeaked!” Hinata and Rosario laugh together at the story. The conversations around the room, even ours, quiet soon.

Rosario takes a deep breath and looks around. It’s going to be serious, I can tell. She hasn’t really started any group conversations before. She prefers answering questions. “Have any of you ever been raped or beaten by a boyfriend?” Silence and shock reign. Then nodding. Then looking away, crying, or crossing the arms across the chest. “Tell me about it—one by one. Especially if your boyfriend is still doing it and is a member of the gang.”

The stories they share are horrifying and will not be repeated. We are all sworn to secrecy. I won’t tell even you.

--Rosario, is anything wrong?—She jumps at the sound of my voice.
--What?—
--You seem nervous and jumpy today. What’s going on?—
She stares me in the eye and her body language indicates she’s assumed a fighting stance—she doesn’t like my line of questioning and is ready for a fight. –Nothing.—She’s telling the truth, and she doesn’t like to be interrogated. –Well, if anything is, you can always tell me.—She nods, jaw clenched and mouth set in a firm line.

The mansion has seven rooms—Hinata and I share one and gang members share most of the others. Rosario has her own room somehow. The other gang members, as well as the agents, live in expensive apartments a few blocks away. The agents congregate daily—the women mostly talk and the men mostly commit crimes. Sometimes the duties switch places, with the women prostituting themselves and the men planning and bragging. It’s all illegal. They’ll all do at least a decade in prison. The loss of freedom will hit the teenagers hardest unless they go to juvy, which I doubt. Echo Glen is mild compared to Walla Walla. Maybe I’m being too hopeful—they could hire very powerful, manipulative lawyers. Or maybe I’m not being hopeful enough—they could go directly to federal prisons instead of the maximum-security one in Walla Walla. I’ll learn at sentencing. We have quite a bit of evidence against against each of them already, after a month and a half. It’ll happen.

My thoughts drift to Rosario. I still can’t figure her out. She has another maybe-fake, probably, tattoo, a thirteen in black on her neck. It appeared three days ago and was kind of red around the edges. It could have been drawn in Sharpie, then she could have rubbed her neck vigorously to make it reddish, as though it were really a still-healing tattoo. I wonder about her cop boyfriend. Talking about him makes her sad. It’s understandable—he’s a cop, she’s a gang member. Or maybe not. If she is, he could rescue her one day and they could be safe and…Maybe she’s lying and an amazing actress. I think her boyfriend really exists. I want to believe she’s a gang member. I want to believe everything she says. I want to believe her. I don’t know why.