The smell of perfume drifted throughout the open concept ranch-style home as nearly the entire New Kids On The Block discography played loudly from a RGB-display speaker sat on an oak dining table, the slight fizzle of static accompanying each beat. Faintly, from the primary bedroom across the home, a few women spoke with giddy anticipation while performing their beauty regimens.
A young blonde girl at the table, staring at the dance of colorful lights flashing from small light strips along the edges of the speaker. She was dressed in a bright outfit, the style hand-picked from 1990’s fashion magazines she found online. Her phone fidgeted on the table between her hands, it’s cheap protective case definitely getting scratched by the unpolished surface.
One of the women emerged from the room, a small trail of cigarette smoke following her to the kitchen as she attempted to swat it sway with her hands and rough coughs. The slightly worse for wear white refrigerator groaned as she grabbed a canned cocktail from inside. “You got your sneaks on, sis?” the tall brunette woman asked the girl.
Her sister looked back at her, “I’ve been ready for like hours now! You guys take forever. Are YOU ready yet?” She stood from her dining chair and reached to turn down the speaker. The height difference was noticeable between the pair as she headed into the kitchen area.
Two shorter brunette women walked into the kitchen, dressed in the same style as the sisters. “Alright ladies, are we ready to get steppin’?” one of the ladies asked.
The muffled sound of men yelling came through the slightly ajar living room windows, grabbing the attention of the girl as the women chatted amongst each other and started gathering their scattered belongings. She opened one of the windows further.
“I have waited all year for this concert, I am so excited! The goal is to not ugly cry, so I have waterproof everything makeup,” one of the other women exclaimed. The muffled yelling grew louder as the girl approached the window.
Outside stood a group of men, maybe nine or ten in total. Two large men stood yelling in each other’s face. One bald, muscular man was furiously shoving a more stout black-haired man. In the background, the women continued to chuckle and chat, oblivious to the scene unfolding outside.
“Come on, tough guy. Hit me! Think you can talk bad on my name and not get absolutely rocked? No f**king way,” the bald man yelled. The other stood expressionless, staggering backwards ever-so slightly with each shove. The surrounding men cheered and booed in succession, seemingly rooting for their projecting winner.
The taller woman’s head turned towards the window, the sound peaking her interest. She walked over to the window. Her younger sister turned to her with a stoic look on her face, “These guys are fighting,” said the girl. “We should probably call the police.”
“Nah, that’s their problem. We don’t snitch here, police don’t care about us here,” the older sister said. “Sometimes men gotta fight it out, that’s life for you, hun,” the older sister said. The girl turned her attention back to the window and her sister wandered away.
The bulky man was beating his hands off of the ground, letting out feral screams at the direction of his opponent. Man vs. Man seemed to alter into Man vs. Nature as his anger took hold and he charged forward, ready to pummel the other to bits.
Before the punch could land, the stout man cocked his fist and slammed it into the other’s face. Excitement came from the small crowd, slowly fading to quiet and muffled discussion. The bald man fell backwards flat, unconscious. The sound of his skull smashing into the pavement seemed to ring throughout the now quiet atmosphere, like a ripple in the air.
“It’s like a free pay-per-view MMA living in this d*mn neighborhood, I’m tired,” one of the women exclaimed as all three women scurried to the window like drama vultures. The older sister let out a sigh. The young girl stared at the scene, eyes fixed on the man on the grounded man.
Within moments, a pool of blood began to form around the downed man’s head. He remained motionless, chest without movement. His skull seemed deformed, but was difficult to tell from the girl’s vantage point. One of the men from the crowd yelled out, “Oh sh*t, I think he’s dead bro.”
One of the women let out a gasp. “I don’t want to be mixed up in that. We need to go before the police get here, I’m not having no cops in my house,” she said. She bolted to the kitchen and grabbed her purse and flask.
The young girl stared at the growing pool of blood, her pupils wide but expression blank. Her sister’s voice woke her from her saze as she grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the back door. “Let’s cut across the neighbors yard, front isn’t an option right now.”
The door slammed behind them as she was dragged away, eyes transfixed out of the window. They ran across the yards onto the sidewalk and began walking towards the concert venue. “Hey, let’s stop at the gas station on the way and grab a snack, I’m starving,” said one of the other women. The tall woman turned to her sister and said, “Don’t worry about it, let’s just go have fun!” They continued on to the venue.
The next day, the girl was flipping through TV stations while eating her lunch and came across a familiar scene on the local news station. “A Latino man was found deceased from head injuries inflicted during an altercation in front of a home on Webster Avenue yesterday afternoon,” a female newscaster said. She froze, finger hovering just over the channel change button.
“I feel awful that I wasn’t here to help, my friends and I were at the New Kids On The Block concert waiting in line. The neighborhood keeps getting worse and ain’t nobody doing anything to help. Bless his soul,” said the homeowner, Erin Brown.
The young girl’s pupils grew wide and face stood still for only a moment before she changed the channel again, eventually settling on cartoons as she ate her food.
