Almost mugged.

It was late in the afternoon when Lorenzo received a call from his ex girlfriend, Nina, telling him that she had something very important she needed to tell him urgently. He used an Uber to get to the house he bought her and their son, Evan. Lorenzo had a bad feeling at the pit of his stomach that made him hesitate to get out of the car. Nonetheless, he hoped that Evan wasn't sick or anything.

"What the hell do you mean he's not my son? Huh?!" He asked Nina after she confessed to him two minutes after he got inside the townhouse.

Nina sniffed and hugged herself. "You're not his dad!... I just, I don't know how I got mixed up in this Lorenzo."

"What about the DNA and paternal tests I took. Twice!"

"I paid them to fake the results!"

"Unbelievable. You're lying Nina. Why are you lying? Did someone put you up to this?"

She saw the anger in his eyes that got his scleras red. After living with him for almost a year before she had Evan, she knew that Lorenzo was about to turn her home upsidedown so she stood near the door that led to the hallway from the living room they were in.

"You know what? I don't believe you." He pointed his index finger at her while hopelessly trying to reign in his anger, hurt and the feeling of betrayal.

Lorenzo felt his muscles tense and he clenched and unclenched his jaw while inhaling and exhaling to release some pressure in his chest. Nina slowly got out of the living room when he lost his ability to think clearly and started smashing the vase and picture frames against the wall. The rational Lorenzo was gone and the primitive Lorenzo was in the room. His ability for emotional generosity and nuance already thrown out the window.

"You fucking WHORE!" He flipped the antique rocking chair he bought for Evan. He heard her whimper.

"You better get your shit outta here by tomorrow!"

Lorenzo picked up his rugged jean jacket from one of the ruined couches and got out of the house without looking over his shoulder and slammed the door shut with a loud thud to underscore his order. His anger slowly subsided as he walked. The neighborhood was quiet, peaceful and no taxis were on sight. He turned to a corner on his left and sat on the wet grass not caring that his clothes would get dirty and wet.

"Where did I go wrong?... How did I not see this coming? I treated her like my own family. I love Evan like my own flesh and blood, fuck!" He passed the back of his hand across his nose noticing he was crying. Hearing some footsteps, Lorenzo pulled the hoodie he wore underneath his jean jacket to cover his face. Men don't cry. He wouldn't show anybody his red eyes and pink nose tip.

"Umm...I didn't carry much, just a snicker bar, but you can have it. Here." A woman's soft voice spoke. He thought that the woman spoke to someone else so he didn't lift his head to acknowledge her presence. Suddenly, he felt something light fall on his lap after he heard her huff. Looking at what it was, he didn't know whether to be offended by the woman thinking he was a homeless person or be a little happy that a stranger cared enough to try and cheer him up.

"I didn't mean shoes, you know. Sneakers? I meant a candy bar." Her British accent flowed into his ears like a soothing Beethoven classical music piece.

"Thank you." He said.

Crouching to his level, she placed her hand on his shoulder and told him, "Being sad is a waste of time. Change whatever made you sad, convert it to a form of strength." Out of curiosity, Lorenzo peered through the hoodie discretely to see her face. She looked very familiar yet he couldn't remember where she saw her.

The woman walked away after instructing him to get his wounds cleaned. His mind hadn't registered that his feet were slightly bleeding through his gray ankle socks till he looked at them. He winced a little and remembered where he left his shoes. At Nina's house.

"The hell I'm going back there."

He stood up from the ground, wiped the back of his jeans and saw a wallet right beside him. Lorenzo picked it up and opened it to find a visa, an identity card, and some tickets inside noticing it belonged to the woman who just disappeared in the corner.

Riona Jansen.

"She must've dropped this."

He walked with a slight limp to the direction the woman went hoping to give her the wallet back. Rich hues of red blended with oranges, purples, crimsons as the sun set and the dark rainy clouds had been scattered. He rounded another corner into a solitary, narrow street and spotted Riona with her hands raised in surrender.

"What the—"

"Get the damn cash out lady."

Lorenzo quickly pocketed her wallet in his back pocket and looked around with his eyes for an object he could use to subdue the thug harassing Riona. Brooklyn streets were as safe as Chicago's downtown streets. Both had gang member lurking around sealing illegal business deals, selling white powder to drug addicts or mugging people. He finally spotted a thick plank of wood and quickly grabbed it.

"I told you. I don't have any money with me."

"Take your coat off then. Looks expensive." The man waved a 9mm gun in his hand.

Riona couldn't believe she was being mugged. The young man with tattoos on his face and arms, focused solely on her, watching her every move from the one and a half meter distance he stood from her. He considered himself quite experienced in the thug world that he decided to go on a mugging spree on his own. His fellow thugs were in too deep in various other crimes he couldn't stomach to commit.

"Nice. Now set it on the floor, and move back."

She did as she was told and saw a man with the same clothing as the one she gave her Snicker bar sneak up on the thug with something beige in hand. The young man took her trenchcoat and checked all the pockets as the stranger with wood got close enough to him and hit the young man on his temple making him lose consciousness.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Riona rushed to the unconscious young man, knelt beside him and checked his vitals. Lorenzo couldn't help but look baffled at Riona's actions. She made sure that the young man who tried to rob her was breathing before palpating the swollen area on his left temple. She then used the penlight she always carried with her to see whether any of his pupils were blown out due to the hit he sustained.

"Call the ambulance, please." Riona requested him.

He couldn't believe his ears. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The ambulance...911? He needs medical attention pronto." She turned back to her patient and covered him with her gray trenchcoat to prevent him from getting hypothermic while Lorenzo shook his head in disbelief. Where he comes from, people don't help people who want to harm them. Nonetheless, he dialled 9-1-1.

"Brooklyn 9-1-1. What's the emergency?"

Riona snatched the phone from him. "Young man with possible head trauma, pulse rate slightly higher than normal, still breathing—" Lorenzo snatched his phone back.

"There's an unconscious thug her with a swollen head. Need medical attention and a lock up. Bring the police too." He nonchalantly stated and hung up.

"You must be having a death wish lady."

She ignored him. "Thanks..."

"Lorenzo."

She felt a spark of recognition as if she'd seen him somewhere other than on her way to this dark corner though she didn't remember.

"You dropped this. He handed her the wallet.

"I wondered where it was." Their fingers slightly brushed against each other and Lorenzo sucked in a breath. Clearing his throat, "Good thing you didn't have it on you."

"Yeah." Riona shrugged. "How long do the ambulances take to arrive around here?" She craned her neck to look at him. Everything about Lorenzo was hard, every muscle seemed to have a purpose.

"Depends on how far an ambulance is from this place." He answered.

The timbre of his voice reverberated in her chest making her feel breathless all of a sudden. To distract herself, she looked to the ground and noticed that he still wasn't wearing shoes.

"Did you get your feet checked?"

"No. Not yet."

"Come with me. I'll clean it up and you can wear Luka's slides." Riona grabbed his scarred hands and led him back to Laura's house. He didn't protest or mumble any excuse to not go with her. Lorenzo felt nice being taken care of by someone other than his mother.

In the distance, police sirens sounded and the sun set.