04-24-2019, 07:23 PM
There weren’t a lot of brothers in Moscow.
Andre never had a problem with confidence. Chicago was his town. He knew every gutter, alley, platform and stoplight like the back of his hand. Journeying across the world where he was lost half the time and stared at the rest was getting old real fast.
He didn’t tell Marcus he was coming, but somehow it was like his baby brother sensed a disturbance in the Force anyway. Images of Consul DuBois rotated on a video screen in the subway car. His arms were folded and he wore a fine cut suit. Andre might have shivered if it weren’t for wrapping himself in the serenity of the Force. He swore those digital eyes followed him off the train.
A duffel bag was slung over his shoulders as he checked into a hotel. The skyline hovered across the river, gleaming with gold fucking streets (practically), but the neighborhood he walked felt more like Brooklyn than anything else. The serpentine river cut the two areas in twain. Might as well have been railroad tracks. At least he wasn’t stared at so much here.
He was nervous, he realized finally. He’d not spoken with Marcus in a while, and he worried the sudden visit was going to be taken suspiciously. Then again, Andre should be used to such treatment by now. It was like moving mountains to get the time off to travel anyway. There were no charges brought against him, but the c/o disapproved of the impromptu vacation yet there was no legal reason to forbid it either. Frankly, Andre was lucky to get out while he could. That shit stunk and it was a matter of time before he stepped in it real good.
He vowed to call Marcus, but not till tonight. First, he needed to look around. Get a sense of his surroundings. For a cop, that meant he had to put boots on the ground and walk the streets. For this cop, it was in an orange shirt cut with purple and blue zebra-stripes and jeans. An earring gleamed from one ear, ring and necklace glinted gold at the thumb and throat.
Hours later he ended up in the Red Square. How could anyone not? It wasn’t really a square, he thought to himself, frowning from the edge of it. Nor was it red, which was kinda disappointing, but maybe the brick fortress walls made up for that. He wasn’t the only tourist around. Hundreds gawked at the Stalinisque architecture around them. Others posed in front of the black Archway.
Shit. Andre did too. The horses on top were fucking outstanding.
Andre never had a problem with confidence. Chicago was his town. He knew every gutter, alley, platform and stoplight like the back of his hand. Journeying across the world where he was lost half the time and stared at the rest was getting old real fast.
He didn’t tell Marcus he was coming, but somehow it was like his baby brother sensed a disturbance in the Force anyway. Images of Consul DuBois rotated on a video screen in the subway car. His arms were folded and he wore a fine cut suit. Andre might have shivered if it weren’t for wrapping himself in the serenity of the Force. He swore those digital eyes followed him off the train.
A duffel bag was slung over his shoulders as he checked into a hotel. The skyline hovered across the river, gleaming with gold fucking streets (practically), but the neighborhood he walked felt more like Brooklyn than anything else. The serpentine river cut the two areas in twain. Might as well have been railroad tracks. At least he wasn’t stared at so much here.
He was nervous, he realized finally. He’d not spoken with Marcus in a while, and he worried the sudden visit was going to be taken suspiciously. Then again, Andre should be used to such treatment by now. It was like moving mountains to get the time off to travel anyway. There were no charges brought against him, but the c/o disapproved of the impromptu vacation yet there was no legal reason to forbid it either. Frankly, Andre was lucky to get out while he could. That shit stunk and it was a matter of time before he stepped in it real good.
He vowed to call Marcus, but not till tonight. First, he needed to look around. Get a sense of his surroundings. For a cop, that meant he had to put boots on the ground and walk the streets. For this cop, it was in an orange shirt cut with purple and blue zebra-stripes and jeans. An earring gleamed from one ear, ring and necklace glinted gold at the thumb and throat.
Hours later he ended up in the Red Square. How could anyone not? It wasn’t really a square, he thought to himself, frowning from the edge of it. Nor was it red, which was kinda disappointing, but maybe the brick fortress walls made up for that. He wasn’t the only tourist around. Hundreds gawked at the Stalinisque architecture around them. Others posed in front of the black Archway.
Shit. Andre did too. The horses on top were fucking outstanding.