Spencer groaned for the eighteenth time that night as Oliver called out 'SHOTS' for the sixth time. How many shots could he take? It was almost like a joke- how many shots does it take to knock an Oliver down. The answer? Undetermined.
Oliver had come without Nora, claiming she was sick but Spencer knew his friend like the back of his hand. He didn't tell Nora they were going out because Nora would definitely stop him from drinking too much. It used to be Spencer's job but, as much as he loved Oliver, he couldn't commit to spending every night out taking care of Oliver. He wasted so much of his time arguing with a drunk version of Oliver, begging his best friend to stop drinking or else risk alcohol poisoning. He had even ended up in the hospital a few times. However, he couldn't just leave Oliver alone so he shoved him into Charlie's arms.
"Make sure he doesn't die. I'm going to get a drink."
In hindsight it was probably a terrible idea to leave Oliver with a very high Charlie. Charlie had taken about half a dozen pills and downed them with liquor. Both of them needed a minder but Spencer just wanted to enjoy himself. Charlie mumbled something nonsensical in response and Spencer quickly left to go to the bar. He seamlessly glided to the top of the crowd and, after spotting him, the bartender immediately left the customer he was with to tend to Spencer. Spencer was too modest (and embarrassed) to ever admit it but he held more power in his hands than he thought. No one even batted an eyelid at how he skipped the queue. Everyone seemed to recognise him.
"A MacAllen on the rocks, please."
Nodding, the bartender quickly turned to fetch him his drink. In the meantime, Spencer turned around and took out his phone. He took a quick time-lapse video. It would be useful in his next film project. However in the midst of the stock-video partiers, one girl stood out. Spencer's eyes focused on the angel dancing in the middle of the club. Her red slip dress kept riding up, making her long legs seem even longer if that was even possible. It had been a while but Spencer recognised her. He could never forget a face like hers. Or a body like hers. Everything froze and blurred into the background except for her.
Her jet black hair rained down from her head, reaching her mid back. Her eyes were accentuated with a golden shimmer and dramatic eyeliner and her lips, lips that had kissed every part of Spencer's body, were a shiny red, the kind that would make Marilyn Monroe shake in her grave.
"Amelie," He uttered, daring to speak out the angel's name.
"Who?" The bartender asked him, placing the drink in front of him.
Ignoring him and his order, Spencer stumbled in her direction. His legs seemed to fail him and as much as he wanted them to, they wouldn't speed up.
She was a Greek love goddess. She had to be. Obviously she was Asian and not Greek but it was the only explanation to how she was still able to hypnotise Spencer even though he had only met her once all those years ago. She was magnificent. Aphrodite.
As if she had sensed his presence, she turned around and looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She made no effort to move towards him and that only made him more attracted to her.
"Spencer Kingsley," She stated as he got closer to her, as if he didn't know his own name. Heck, he had probably forgotten it while staring at her. There was only one name on his mind.
"Amelie."
She brushed her fingers against his jaw before placing them at the nape of his neck and continuing to dance. Spencer was baffled at how confident and forward she was.
"It's been a while..."
Spencer nodded dumbly, mentally scolding himself for how utterly uncool he was being.
"Kingsley, are you okay?"
He managed to relax as she inched closer to him.
"I'm fine. Just a bit dazed," He admitted
"And why is that?"
"Because you've managed to put me in a trance even after all these years. You're so...so...beautiful"
Amelie smiled, revealing deep dimples and chuckled. "Tell me something I don't know."
"I really want to kiss you right now."
"I said something I don't know!" She laughed before closing the gap between them and kissing him.
It was magical for the few seconds it lasted. It transported him back to that yacht in St Tropez. It was...surreal.
Then a random guy ran up to them and urgently tapped Spencer's shoulder, ruining their entire moment. Spencer groaned and immediately turned around to berate him.
"What?" He hissed through gritted teeth.
"Dude, Oliver Scott is getting his ass beat outside and your brother told me to get you."
Spencer cursed and turned to Amelie who had heard the boy.
"I'm so sorry, I-"
She smiled encouragingly at him. "Go help your friend! I'll be here when you come back."
She placed a kiss on his cheek and gave him a gentle push towards the door. He quickly rushed outside and followed the shouting sounds to find them. He found Oliver drunkenly stumbling and throwing useless punches at the air while three other guys had the upper hand in the fight and continued to plummet him mercilessly. Charlie was the only reason why Oliver wasn't hurt too terribly as he was the only one between them actually fighting properly. He had a swollen eye, bloody lip and limp to prove it.
"Hey!" Spencer shouted, angrily marching towards them. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
The boys turned their attention to him. They seemed slim and scrawny in their Wall Street suits but, by the looks of it, certainly packed a punch. As soon as Spencer got close enough, they started attacking him too. A punch to the stomach. Another to the face that would definitely leave him with a huge bruise. A kick to the shin. But Spencer was more sober than his brother and Oliver and quickly fought back. He was a pacifist and never resorted to violence but he had no choice. The last time he had punched someone was at The Trinity Gala when he found out Oliver slept with his late sister, Ellie. He totally deserved it though.
"Spencer! Just grab Oliver and go. I'll finish these assholes off," Charlie gasped as someone's fist pummelled into his stomach.
Growling, Spencer pushed one particularly feisty guy on the ground after punching him. "I turn away for five minutes and you two manage to get yourselves in trouble!"
Oliver grunted from the ground where he was being kicked ruthlessly by another man. Spencer pulled him away from Oliver, clamping his hands down on his shoulders and threw him to the ground.
"Hey!" One of the guys shouted from behind him. "Don't touch him, you monkey!"
That man was the only one left standing. However, after calling Spencer a monkey he wouldn't be standing for long.
Unfortunately, as Spencer turned around to respond he was blinded by the sight of the man's fist crashing against his jaw, knocking him down immediately. His head was spinning and he couldn't fight back as the man kicked him. Eventually, however, the sound of sudden police sirens made him stop and back off. Spencer groaned as he sat up, trying to focus his vision on the flashing police light and listen to what they were saying but he was in too much pain.
"I said stand up and put your hands behind your head! All of you!" A police man barked.
The same guy that was kicking Spencer mere seconds ago was pointing at him and Charlie. Spencer was too dizzy and hazy to make out what he was saying. However whatever it was, it definitely angered Charlie as he stood up.
"We didn't start it! These assholes jumped us out of no where!"
"They 'jumped' you? I find that hard to believe," The police officer spat, looking Charlie up and down.
Spencer's mind cleared up enough for him to stand up. "Sir, this is all a big misunderstan-"
"PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" He wasn't talking to the Wall Street boy. He was focused on Spencer and his brother.
"Okay, sir, but it's not-"
"ARE YOU DEAF? I SAID PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD."
Spencer wiped his bloody hands on his trousers but the police officer seemed to misinterpret what he was doing and whipped out something shiny from his holster. It took Spencer a few seconds to process what it was but when he did his hands immediately and obediently shot back to the back of his head. His blood ran cold and his entire body began to quiver.
"FREEZE OR I WILL SHOOT," He threatened, aiming his gun at Spencer.
"OK! Please, don't shoot! Look! My hands are behind my head."
Spencer didn't even need to think about why he and Charlie were being targeted. The reason was clear as day. The two brother were in a predominantly white and wealthy area containing mostly white people. They were two black men surrounded by three unconscious white men, Oliver being one of them, and one conscious one that was blaming them for everything. They were the enemy.
Charlie gave his brother a knowing look, one that said 'don't move or he'll shoot us'. Spencer had never seen his older brother so terrified in his entire life. Spencer had to fight back the tears as another white police officer roughly cuffed their hands, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle. The steel cuffs tightened around his wrists and would inevitably leave a mark around his wrists.
"Of course you think we're the only guilty ones," Charlie spat at the officer arresting him. "It's a no brainer why we're the only two getting arrested."
"Sir, you shouldn't throw accusations out like that. It's careless and makes our job very difficult."
Spencer scoffed and glared at him as he roughly pushed them towards the back of the police car.
"Your job is difficult? Our lives are difficult, man! And it's because of racist officers like you."
"I'm not racist!"
Charlie let out a dry laugh. "Okay. We're not speaking anymore until we meet our lawyer."
"Thank god," The asshole muttered, slamming the door shut.
Spencer looked at Charlie who was bruised up and shaking. His wounded cheeks were wet with tears and his jaw was clenched in anger. Charlie met his eyes briefly before looking away to stop him from seeing him sob. Spencer leaned back and looked outside the window where he saw the police officer helping the other guys up. Oliver, the only one that could probably help them, was passed out. And Charlie and Spencer were handcuffed in the back of the police car.
"No matter how high up on the ladder we get," Charlie began. He shook his head in disbelief. "And no matter how much money we have...."
"We'll always be the enemy," Spencer stated angrily, finishing off his brother's sentence. "Always."
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QUICK FACTS:
â People who are African-American/Black are twice as likely to be killed by a police officer while being unarmed compared to a Caucasian/White individual
â 1 in 4 people who are killed by law enforcement officials in the United States are unarmed.
â Out of the 2.3 million people who are incarcerated in the United States right now, an estimated 1 million of them are African-Americans/Black despite only making up 12.4% of the population.
â African-American/Black people were 39% of the people killed in the 100 largest cities in the US, despite being only 21% of the population in these cities.
â 97% of the cases of police brutality that were tracked in 2015 did not result in any officer involved being charged with a crime.
We can all make an effort to educate ourselves on police brutality. I hope these facts give you all food for thought. I don't live in America but, to all my American readers be safe and make sure you know your rights.
Love,
-hexed