The tale of two hearts brought into a war. Could a girl from the wrong side of the track and the oldest son of a political family find a happy ending?

I entered the room to find my brothers packing for a job. "I want to go."

"No," my oldest brother, Malcolm, refused. He dropped a can of spray paint in his bag. "You're just going to be in the way." He pretended to listen to my argument. He was more interested in preparing for the night of crime.

When I noticed my father in the doorway, I knew to argue my case for him. "It's a simple robbery. I've done it before. It can't be that dangerous if you're taking Miles," I said, beginning a fight with my other brother.

My father took my face in his hands. "Mercedes, no. You're my baby girl. I wouldn't know what to do if something happened to you." He straightened the charm on my necklace. "Your mother would never let me be."

Miles nodded. "So get a juice box and watch your cartoons."

I was pushed out of the room before I could argue. I hated when they did that. I was the youngest, but I wasn't a child. I could do the research and stake the place out. When the time came for the actual job, I had to sit in the corner.

Because I wasn't allowed to participate with my family, I decided to go clubbing. I knew that I couldn't go to a club on my side of town: everything I did would be reported back to my father. I was going to drink and dance with strangers. "The best drinks are the ones bought by a northsider," I always said.

A tall blond peaked my interest. He dressed like every preppy northsider. He threw his money around the bar and couldn't keep his hands off me when we danced.

I didn't know his name, but that didn't deter me. I pulled him close and whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight." I watch his smile grow. Following him to his apartment, I thought we were on the same page.

He talked all night. He told me his hobbies and favorite movie. He opened up about his "entrepreneur" parents. He carried the conversation. The man moved slowly. Twisting my necklace between his fingers, he asked, "Does this mean something?"

Spade-shaped charm weren't common in town. Out of all my father's members, there were only two to wear the necklace. It was originally my mother's, but when she died, it became mine: from the queen to the princess.

I backed away. "Um, it's a family thing." I wasn't going to disclose my family's business. I'm no snitch.

"I knew about what happens on the south side… It's a gang thing." He stopped me before I could speak. "You don't have to deny it or defend it."

"I wasn't," I argued. When he promised that he wouldn't tell, I responded, "I'm not worried."

If any member of the Southside Spades is arrested, a few events follow. First the snitch is hunted down- he's always found. He disappears, and his family is left with a debt that's paid to us as an apology. The arrested Spade member is magically released from jail within three weeks. It never fails to happen. Everyone knows the cycle. It's to show that there's nothing good for anyone that would rat to the law.

"Would it bother your father if he knew that you spent the night with an Evans?"

"First, I don't care what my father thinks. Second, I wasted a night, drinking soda, and listening to your bad stories," I argued. "Lastly, what does an 'Evans' have to do with me or my family?"

"My dad is running for mayor." After hours of being together, the man finally gives me his name. "I'm Sam Evans." He shook his head after I gave him a fake name. He knew who I was.

I sipped from my soda before asking, "Would it bother your father if he knew that you spent the night with a Jones?" I made it very clear that I was mocking him.

He nodded his head. "My dad thinks your family is behind a lot of the things wrong with this town."

I don't appreciate anyone that would disrespect my family. I forced a smile and warned, "He shouldn't spend a lot of money on his campaign."

The election was rigged from the start. Hummel would win for a second term. He would work in our favor, and the activities of the south side would continue.

With knocking on his door, Sam paused our discussion. He opened it to another blond men- his younger brother. He tried to keep us hidden from each other as he investigated why his brother was there.

I sat back, listening to the discussion about the brother's 'lunch date' plans. I hissed at the two. "Ugh, northsiders," I grumbled.

"You can have one, but have to choose fast," Sam ordered. He waved his brother into the apartment.. As they passed through the living room, he promised me one minute. He closed the door while they were in the bedroom.

When I'm a topic of conversation, I have the right to listen. I ignored the two as they debated green or blue. I leaned closer to the door when I was brought up.

"I know you want some cred and to piss off dad... but a southsider?"

"Stevie," Sam breathed. "How do you know she's from the south side of town? You only saw her for five seconds."

"That's all I needed. Look at her- leather jacket, high heels, dark makeup, face piercings," he listed. "Yeah, she's from the south side, in case you didn't know."

I opened the door, and leaned against the frame as I watched their shocked reactions. "I have to go. I got plans," I said out loud. Inside, I thought, "Plans that don't include a lunch date. Who does that? Old couples, that's who."

After every job my family pulled, I was required to sit and watch the news for two days straight. I was watching for any updates on what they had done. It was a pain to do, and I hate to watch the news at any other time because of it.

When Sam asked for my phone number, I considered giving him a fake, but I didn't have the energy to make one up. I felt Stevie's eyes on me, and he didn't try to hide it after I looked up. I scanned him and the two jackets in his hands. "You'd look nice in blue." I passed Sam his phone and said bye.

Sam and I talked on the phone almost everyday for the next six months. Our conversations were better than the one we had on the first night. We hung out in public a few times, but I was careful not to be seen by anyone from the south side. We were getting closer and closer.

I had just arrived home from work when I got a call from Sam. "Hello?" I stretched, trying to undo the buttons and zipper in the back of my dress.

"Come to your window," he ordered. When I looked out from the second floor, he waved at me. He smiled. "I followed you from the club. You looked beautiful."

I looked down at the blond on the ground. "Congratulations. You're one paper away from being a full-blown stalker," I joked. "Do you want to come up?"

Inside, Sam scanned his surroundings. He followed me though my family's house. "You're home alone?"

With a shrug, I admitted, "Not surprised if I am." I closed the door of my bedroom and returned to my struggle with my dress. I finally got Sam to get me out of my clothes, but that was just so I could change into my silk pajamas.

Sam didn't like the idea of me being alone… in my own home. He wanted to stick around for as long as he could. He did most of the talking, and when he decided that it was late, he joined me in bed.

I hardly ever liked to cuddle, but I could make an exception if I was the big spoon. I nestled close to him. With my face buried into his back, I longingly inhaled, taking in his scent. My fingers traced his defined abs through his shirt before traveling further down.

He airily laughed when I unbuttoned his pants. "You should get some sleep."

"Not tired," I announced as my hand slithered under the band of his underwear. I feel his heat against my skin. "Is there a time of day where you are not hard?" I took his thick member with a firm grip before I began to move my hand up and down.

Sam let out a deep breath. "It's what you do to me." He moaned and thrusted with my rhythm. After a minute, he scooted and rolled onto his back. He began to remove his pants from under the covers. "I want you to ride me. I need you to."

With our pants discarded on the floor, I straddled the guy. I felt chills when Sam grabbed my hips; he had a magical effect on me unlike any other boy. My fingers twisted in the white shirt that covered his chest as I lowered myself onto his cock. I reached his base and purred with pleasure. I loved being filled, but I needed a moment to adjust. I advanced from slow rolling grinds to bouncy thrusts that worked up a sweat.

His hands roamed over my skin. Greedy, he tore open my top, ripping off most of its buttons. He quickly went for my breasts, touching, squeezing, rubbing. "Your boobs are great."

"Oh, Sam," I moaned. My body began to tighten as my orgasm built. "I need to cum, and I'm so close. Please, Sam, don't stop." I threw my head back and let my emotions take me over.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

I tumbled from over Sam and pulled the bed covers up to my chin. With wide eyes I see Miles in my doorway. "Get out!" I threw my pillow at him, but missed as my brother closed the door. I fell back into my bed with my heartbeat racing in my ears.

When his shock settled, Sam suggested, "I think I should go." He dressed and allowed me to show him out.

Miles leaned against the wall across from my door. When Sam and I came into view, he looked us up and down. He warned me, "We're going to talk about this later."

"No, we're not." I took Sam's hand and lead him forward. I opened the front door and swung my arm for him to walk through the exit.

"I actually came here for a reason," he admitted as he stepped over the threshold. He invited me to dinner with his parents.

"Isn't meeting families something you save for a girlfriend?" I asked.

Sam pulled me close. "Yes," he answered. His lips rested on mine- our first kiss where we weren't looking over our shoulders for someone that wasn't there. He took a step back to study me. "I know you will look beautiful… but, um, can you take out the nose ring. It's my mom." His smile grew when I rolled my eyes.

I had asked around about the Evans family, and I found out a lot of interesting things. Stacy, the youngest of the Evan children, had a nasty temper, but her record was clean. Sam and Stevie were known to do something strange for a little piece of change. Sam admitted that he stripped for a while. No one could specifically say what Stevie did with his sugar mamas, but he was well taken care of. Mary Evans seemed like a quiet, pampered housewife, but she was almost as devilish as her husband. Sometimes, he was her puppet, but Dwight did have a wild hair up his ass for the poorer side of town. Everyone that steps outside, knows that the Evans got their money through untraceable frauds and laundering.

I didn't want to bring up what I knew about the family. I didn't want to rub in Dwight's loss in the election. I didn't want to have to defend my family and friends. I wanted to sit back and eat my dry steak. I wanted a calm night, but they couldn't let me be.

At the start of the night, the only sounds that could be heard was the silverware hitting. Eyes occasionally peeked up from plate to look at me. Everyone ate in silence until Mrs. Evans addressed me.

"What do you do for a living, Mercedes?"

I politely smiled and answered, "I'm a singer at the local watering hole. It's a fabulous place to be." I never wasted an opportunity to plug my friend's business.

After getting a name, Stacy admitted, "I've passed by that bar on my way out of town. Fabulous didn't come to mind." Her tone sounded a little too snarky for my liking.

"The inside reflects the styles of the late 30s: classic," I calmly argued. I grinned at my thoughts, and I decided to share without thinking of where it could lead the conversation. "It's owned by Kurt Hummel. He would hate to hear anyone call his business a bar. He prefers it be called a speakeasy. He refuses to listen when we tell him that speakeasies were illegal, but he loves the word." I quiet back down after realizing that I was the only one who was entertained.

"You're friends with Burt's son?" Dwight was looking for a reason to talk about the election. He asked for my opinion on Burt. He hoped that I would slip up and admit that my father has an influence over the race.

Burt might have been in my father's pocket, but he was still better than Dwight Evans. While Dwight wanted to throw a community away, Burt encouraged the people to change the community and themselves. Burt was a charitable man. He donated money to those in need, and his competition held his money from everyone- even his kids. It was nice that Dwight was book smart, but Burt was relatable.

I praised the Hummels, and it was clearly getting to the father. I took a little pleasure in it. "He's inspirational. I've considered getting into politics... Maybe I should run for Governor in the future."

The youngsters at the end of the table snickered. "Are you even qualified?"

"Very," I quickly answered. Yes, I was offended. "If I was able to change one thing, equality amongst all classes. Criminals that commit white-collar crimes would be treated like the ones that committed blue-collar crimes." That was what I believed, and I wasn't going to change my mind just because I was sitting across from a loose criminal.

After that point, it became the dinner party from hell. I was ambushed with questions about politics and law. They threw out ridiculous and untrue statistics. Never outright, they took digs at my family and insulted the people on my side of town. They pushed my buttons, and I refused to give them the satisfaction of watching me explode.

Sam didn't speak up. He didn't defend me. He didn't call off his rabid family. He let everything happen.

Mrs. Evans dismissed everyone to leave the table. She wanted to be alone with me. She had used the dinner to judge me. With every compliment she gave, a brutal critique followed. She ended her list with saying, "south side, north side, west side- I don't care. You seem to have your head on straight. My son seems very serious about you, and I approve." She gave me permission to date her son. She locked eyes with me and promised "But if you ever hurt him, I will burn you." She had nothing to worry about .

I promised myself that I was done with Sam Evans. I couldn't forgive him for what happened that night. I wanted to wipe him out of my life.

"What do you want to do for your birthday?" my father asked from his chair.

"I want my first tattoo." Why couldn't I have one when my brothers had plenty of them?

He gave me the usual "baby girl" speech. 25 or older, he wasn't letting his daughter get inked. "You have two weeks to come to your senses."

Malcolm entered the living room with a bouquet of flowers. "Mercedes these came for you." He passed the flowers but took the card. He read, "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I'm sorry. From Sam."

When I heard his name, I dropped the flowers to the floor. I sat back into the sofa and returned to watching TV. I had moved on with my life.

Sam didn't want to let me go. He called all the time. He sent gifts everyday I rejected him. He tried to get my attention, but I didn't want to be bothered by him.

Miles picked up the flowers from the floor. "If you don't want them, can I have them? I can give them to one of my snacks."

"Your what?"

"My women," he said as if we should have known. He took the card and read it for himself. "Sam? Isn't that the boy I caught you in bed with?"

My father straightened at the news. "You were having sex with a boy?"

Miles loved to see me in trouble with my father. "Yeah, they were upstairs."

I looked into my father's eyes. "That's not true." I would have been believed over Miles. "I have to get ready for work." I left. I jumped back as I entered my bedroom, surprised to see a tall blond.

Sam shushed me before I could scream for my brothers. "Please let me explain."

"Get out now, or I'll call the police."

"Please give me five minutes."

I shook my head. "There's nothing you can say, and I have nothing else to give."

Did he want to flaunt me in front of his father? He got that. Did he want sex from me? He got that too. Did he want the chance to humiliate me? He had gotten everything he could have wanted from me, but why couldn't he leave me alone?

He swore, "I just want to be with you." He watched as my eyes shifted with irritation. "Yes I knew what my parents were planning to do. They were tough on you because they wanted to see how you'd take the pressure. Were you going to take everything they said, or were you going to throw dirt back? I didn't worry because I know how strong you are. You didn't need me to stand up for you."

I gave him no verbal response. I walked across the room for my cell phone. After dialing the number, I listened to the ringing through the speakers.

"Judge Chang," the family friend introduced.

"It's Mercedes," I announced. I crossed my arms and stared at Sam. "I wanted to stop by your office. Maybe you could help me file a restraining order."

Sam threw up his hands. He was giving up. "Goodbye, Mercedes" was the last thing he said to me before walking out.

I interrupted the judge. "Never mind. Bye Mr. Chang. Tell Tina I said hi."

I had won. Thankful, my life had returned to normal- everything it was before Sam. I didn't have any calls to ignore. I didn't get any gifts. I didn't hear his name for nine whole days.

I fell into the sofa, ready for mindless Saturday morning TV. I groaned after finding the news on. Before I could change the channel, a photo of a beautiful blond man appeared and caught my attention. I hurry to turn the volume up.

"... confirmed that the victim in the late night shooting was 24 year old Samuel Evans," the report said. "At this moment, investigators don't have a motive, but believe that it was political. Samuel was the son of former mayoral candidate, Dwight... "

I couldn't hear anymore. My brain wouldn't process what the news anchor said; the news was too big for understanding. I felt like I had been punched in the chest and there was no air to refill my lungs. I wanted Sam to stay away from me, but I would have never wished for his death. When my daze ended, I felt angry.

"Which one of you did it?" I asked as I stormed into my father's office. I immediately went after my idiot brother. "Miles, how could you do that."

Miles ran as I chased him around the room. "It's too early for me to put up with your PMS." He quickly dodged the paperweight that I threw from my father's desk.

Malcolm stopped me. "What's wrong?"

Malcolm was popular as a murder for hire. For a pretty penny, he would have taken out anyone he was asked to. He was really good at it. He could never be tied to the killings because the police could never prove his part.

"Did you do it?" I asked him. I shoved him backwards, but all I wanted to do was punch him in the face. "You killed Sam, didn't you?"

"Who?"

Through all the chaos around him, my father sat comfortably in his seat. "Everyone, sit down. Mercedes, tell me what you're mad about," he ordered.

"What did you do last night? Were you on the north side?" I only received silence. "Tell me!"

I didn't want to sit. I didn't want to be touched. I didn't want to be calmed. I wanted answers, but I wasn't given them. I was sure that my family was behind Sam's murder… and I wasn't the only one.

My family sat in the private room of the restaurant. We were silent. They didn't understand why we were waiting to order, but they weren't supposed to question the birthday girl.

My father was desperate to move the party along. "Well, let's make a toast." He shushed me when I tried to speak up. "Tina and Kurt will be fine if they miss this." When the door opened, he froze.

I weakly smiled as the Evans entered the room. "Welcome." I approach with caution and waved in the family's extra guests. "I'm glad you all came." I was shocked when Stevie pulled me in for a hug.

He held me close. Into my ear, he ordered me to leave the room. The skinny boy only received a confused look. He whispered, "Get out."

Malcolm pieced together the pieces quicker than I did. He stood and questioned, "Evans, you good?" He pushed back the end of his dinner jacket to show his gun attached to his side. He was ready for what was coming.

"We're good," Mrs. Evans promised. She removed a gun from behind her back. She lifted and aimed the weapon causing everyone to follow suit.

"Stop! We are not doing this." I ordered my family to relax. I rest my head on the woman's wrist. "Please, don't do this. I invited you to a PEACEFUL dinner. Sit."

None of the Evans' clan flinched.

"You are hurting. I am too. You want revenge, but Sam would not want this," I announced.

Mrs. Evans removed my hand. "I knew you were smart," she said, "but you're being really stupid right now." She ordered her son to take me.

I was dragged out of the room, begging for everything to stop- begging for everyone to think with a straight head. I was barely out of the restaurant when the gunfire began. With tears and loud cries, I sunk into Stevie. I was only feet away from the war, but I was useless to stop it.

How did a short love story ended with such a violent end? Would any the events had happened if I never crossed paths with Sam Evans? Did God punish me and Sam for our defiance? Was it written in the stars with zero chance of avoiding it?

Life isn't that way. Questions aren't answered. Not everything is to be understood.