[The Last Outlaw] Where Will I Go?

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PhoenixXeno

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Ash strolled down the congested streets on Times Square as she kept her head low and avoided eye contact with everyone. First she ran away from the gang she was with in Chicago, and now she felt like she was in hiding and completely lost in New York City.

She let her long blondish chestnut hair fall over her shoulders and act like curtains for her face. The baggy tank top and cargo pants hid her curvy body.

One thought kept crossing her mind: Could there be a day that she would have to go back to Chicago?
 
"Franco, Franco!" The young man named Franco turned towards the source of the voice. The owner of the voice was a middle aged man with graying hair and withered brown eyes, it was his uncle. "Sorry uncle Jorge, I was just thinking." Franco while turning back the grill in front of him. The burgers in front of him looked to ready to flip, so that is just what he did.

Franco worked for his uncle at the "Ramos bar and grill", small hole in the wall place in Times Square. The jet black hair dangled in his face as he tried to flip the burgers. He looked up from his spot to see two of his fellow gang members, Alejandro and Luis, walk into the bar. Not wanting to deal with this problem right now, Franco took off his apron and headed outside for his smoke break. Once outside, he lit up and watched as hordes of people made their way to God knows where.

The green eyed Cuban watched the crowd until someone caught his attention. A girl, about his age was strolling down the road towards him. She had chestnut golden hair, as well as wearing a loose tank-top and cargo pants. She seemed lost. Maybe I should help her Franco thought as he watched and took a long drag on his cigarette.
 
Ash didn't pay attention to the young man that came out to smoke. At least not until she almost walk past him.

"What?" she asked bluntly.
 
Franco turned to this newcomer and asked, "You new here?" He dropped his cigarette and stomped it out. He walked over to the stranger and extended his hand. "Name's Franco, welcome to good ole NYC."
 
Ash scoffed. "The name's Ash. What's it to ya if I'm new?"

She looked at him and noticed his green eyes. "How does someone like you have kind of eye color? You got some Caucasian blood in you?" She never really felt right calling white people "white"; she felt that Caucasian sounded better to her. She herself was quarter Dutch, while she was quarter Honduran and half Brazilian. Crossing her arms, she cocked her head to the side.
 
Franco nodded. "Yep, my dad is Irish, his family moved from Belfast when he was three. " He leaned against the outside of the bar and continued. "My Mom and her family moved from Cuba some 35 years ago. My Parents met at Boston College, and that was that."

"So, are you staying with anyone or are you by yourself?"
 
She shrugged. Irish, huh? "Nah. I moved here from Chicago. I left everyone I knew there, so I'm obviously here by myself."

Her amber eyes studied Franco's face as she placed her hands on her hips. "Since you gave me some of your family history, I guess it's my turn. My mom's parents were a Dutch woman and a Honduran dude who met in Costa Rica. My dad's entire family is Brazilian who moved to Florida I don't know how long ago. so then, my parents met in Chicago and the rest is history. So... wait, why are you askin' if I'm here by myself?"
 
Franco scratched the stubble on his chin as he looked around. He turned back to Ash. "Listen, no offense, but a young woman like yourself will not survive long in New York without a friend. So I was thinking, Me and my uncle share this building behind me." He pointed to the bar behind him. "We have a extra bedroom upstairs, so if you want, you can stay with us."

Just then, Franco heard his uncle calling for him, so he decided he needed to get back to work. He wrote down his number and handed it to Ash and headed back towards the bar before turning back and saying, "Oh, almost forgot, if you ever get hungry, stop on by." he turned back to bar and headed back to work.
 
She stood there as Franco went back inside the building before she went to a desolate alleyway. She picked up two large bags full of clothes and belongings.

"Staying anywhere else would be better than this crappy alley," she said to herself as she lugged them back to the building. As she came in, she looked around for Franco. "Franco, where do I put my crap at?" she called.

Maybe she shouldn't be quick to trust but honestly she had nowhere to stay and had been living in the alleyway ever since she arrived. Ash put her bags down and pulled her hair back with a bandana she had in one of the pockets of her cargo pants.
 
Franco looked up from his spot in the kitchen to see Ash standing in the middle of the main dining area. He walked over and grabbed her bags. "Follow me" he said as he trumped upstairs. They stopped in front of a door, Franco pulled out the key and handed it to Ash. "We have breakfast around nine every morning, shower is down the hall, and last of all, I would like you to meet some of my friends tomorrow. They could provide some good work for you."

And with that, Franco headed back downstairs to resume his part time job of flipping burgers.
 
"Uh... thanks..." she said after Franco left. She opened the door and went into the room. It was average for her taste, but at least she would a real bed to sleep in. She tossed her bags onto the bed and began to unpack. After she finished, she fell onto the bed.
 
The Next Morning

"Damn it Franco!" was all Jorge had to say as he set the tables for the morning crowd. "Please uncle, keep your voice down, you might wake our guest." Franco said in a mellow tone of voice. Jorge gave Franco a nasty look and said, "Good, I can't believe you invited her to stay with us. You know how bad I'm in debt!" Franco nodded, he really should've consulted with his uncle before handing a room over to Ash. "Don't worry uncle, this problem will sort itself out, just like it always does." Franco said while cleaning the dishes he forgot to clean last night.
 
Ash stirred somewhat from the yelling downstairs. Why would someone yell that loud? I'm trying to sleep...

She sighed and got out of the bed. Pulling out a tube top and some jeans, she got dressed and went downstairs. Looking at the older man setting the tables, she made her way to him. "Mornin'," she said before patting his back and walking to the kitchen.
 
Franco held his breath as Ash patted Jorge on the back. You could see the anger in Jorge's eyes as he watched make her back to the kitchen. Shit Franco thought as he remembered he was wearing nothing on the upper half of his body. Due to it being extremely warm in the summer, Franco would usually wear just a pair of pants and his faded workbooks when he did work, the only exception to this is when the bar and grille was open.

When Ash began to walk in, Franco dove across the kitchen and snatched apron he wore while cooking. He quickly put on and put a smile on when Ash entered. "Hey, good morning, how did you sleep?" Shit Franco thought, he had totally forgot to cover the full sleeve of Tats on his left arm.
 
"I slept well, I guess," she said, looking at his sleeve of tattoos. "Is it normal for you to prance around the kitchen with no shirt on?"

She gave him a smirk. "Anything special about the tats? I've got a few myself."
 
Franco smiled, "Kinda, I mean, it gets hotter than hell in here. I kinda like being somewhat comfortable while working this damn greasy spoon." Franco looked Ash in the eye and asked, "Why, you prefer me running around without a shirt on?" flexing while completing that statement.

When she asked about the tats, he got more serious. "What these, nah. Most of these I got stamped with when I was in high school. Just looked cool, I guess." He then remembered the very first tat he got. He pointed to a image of a smiling skull, with a rose in it's mouth. Behind the skull was two revolvers, barrels crossing each other.

"This was the Tattoo I got when they shipped me off to Afghanistan." He stopped for a minute, he looked off into the distance, as if something was there, but nothing was.
 
"Are you flirting with me?" she teased.

She looked at the tattoo he pointed at and nodded when he explained that he got when he went to Afghanistan. "I had some friends who were shipped to Afghanistan. They told me about the craziest shit." She looked off into the distance for a moment. "I miss them." She sighed. "I only got a few tats, like I said before." She lifted her shirt up and showed him a tattoo of an American flag on her right abdomen with a few tombstones in front of it. "I got this when I found out my friends in Afghanistan died." She pulled her shirt down. "The others I don't really let anyone see."
 
"Can we please stop talking about that place?" he asked. What he did was in the past, so he believed it should stay in the past. "Be right back, help yourself to anything in the fridge." he said while on his way up to his bedroom. Once he got to his room, he changed into his standard black t-shirt and blue denim jeans. He put on his work boots and grabbed his favorite ball cap as he headed back downstairs. He stopped for a minute before running back upstairs and grabbing his .45 Colt semi auto handgun and a Beretta 9mm pistol.

He stuffed his Colt .45 into his pants and raced back down to the kitchen. "Hey, once you're done, You and me are going to visit some friends." He said flatly before setting the Beretta pistol onto one of the counters.
 
Ash looked through the fridge and pulled out some leftovers. She didn't exactly know what it was, but she figured she should eat before they went on with their day.

What was up with Franco and not wanting to talk about Afghanistan?

She eyed the Beretta on the counter once Franco came back downstairs. "What's with the pistol?" she asked.
 
"Um.... well ya see, some of my friends aren't the nicest, especially since there is a young woman coming." He smirked a bit. "Ya probably won't even to use it, just bring just in case."
 
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