EPISODE 1: LOST

1981

The air in the Principal’s office was thick with the smell of old paper and systemic disdain. Felix Sinclair’s fingers were locked tight around his college Principal’s throat, his knuckles turning a dusty grey-white. The man sputtered, eyes bulging, until the heavy oak door burst open.

“Let the man go!” a guard barked, his voice cracking like a whip.

Felix froze. He looked around the room—at the mahogany desk, the pristine certificates, and the circle of white faces staring at him with a mixture of terror and deep-seated prejudice. He was the only speck of black in a sea of ivory, and suddenly, the barrel of a service revolver was leveled right at his chest. The shock paralyzed him. Before he could even loosen his grip, the world exploded in pain. The heavy steel butt of a guard’s pistol slammed into the back of his skull. Darkness rushed in to meet him.

Two Days Later

The door to the cramped one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles creaked open. Felix stumbled in, his movements stiff and pained. His mother, Mary Sinclair, held his arm, flanked by his Uncle Elijah and Elijah’s girlfriend, Tamika. The air in the room was stale, heavy with the lingering scent of cheap floor wax and unspoken failure.

Elijah and Tamika didn't linger long, sensing the storm brewing. As the door clicked shut behind them, Mary turned on her son, her face a mask of weary fury.

“Not only did you go and fight your Principal,” Mary shouted, her voice trembling, “but you went and got yourself mixed up with the law! After everythin' I done to get you in that place?”

Felix didn’t look at her. He started to limp toward the back of the apartment, his jaw set. Mary lunged forward, grabbing his hand to anchor him. “I’m talkin’ to you, young man!”

Felix whirled around, twenty years of frustration boiling over. “What you want me to say, Mama? Huh? That place... it wasn't never meant for folks like me! You the one forced me into that lion's den, and now you wanna sit here and put the blame on my head?”

The slap echoed through the small room. Mary’s hand stung; Felix’s face burned. Silence hung between them for a heartbeat before Felix turned and walked out the door without another word. Mary slumped onto the worn couch, burying her face in her hands as she wailed his name into the empty air.

Felix leaned heavily on a wooden cane as he limped down the sidewalk. Across the street, his boy Deon Biggs was in the middle of a heated scrap with some local. They were grappled together until a few others pulled them apart.

“Broke-ass, stupid nigga!” Deon spat, wiping sweat from his brow. He turned, catching sight of the limping figure approaching. A wide, jagged grin broke across his face. “Well looky here! Sinclair!”

The Hotel

Across town, the vibe was different. Paul, a thirty-three-year-old white man with a sharp suit and sharper eyes, strutted into a hotel suite. He was flanked by four girls, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes. In his hand, he gripped a heavy black backpack as if it were a newborn child.

“What the hell is in that bag, Paul?” one of the girls asked, leaning in with curiosity.

Paul’s face hardened instantly. “That is none of your business, baby girl. Understand?”

The girls recoiled at his tone, scurrying into the bedroom. Paul exhaled, glancing around suspiciously before shoving the bag into the depths of a mahogany wardrobe. He peeled off his shirt, tossed it on a chair, and followed the girls inside, the bag forgotten—for now.

Back on the block, Felix and Deon sat on a low brick wall. Felix stared at the cracked pavement, his spirit as bruised as his ribs.

“Maybe my mama right, Deon,” Felix sighed. “Maybe I'm... lost.”

“Nah, man, fuck that” Deon countered, his voice low and gritty. “Them white folks always tryin’ to do that to us. Break us down so we think we trash. That college wasn’t never meant for a brother like you, man. You too real for ‘em.”

Felix looked up, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. He nodded slowly, feeling the weight lift just a fraction. “So... what’s next then?”

Deon looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t know, man. But we gonna figure it out.”

Elijah’s House

Elijah poured two glasses of wine, the red liquid catching the light as he handed one to Tamika. They had just walked through the door, the tension from Mary’s house still clinging to them.

“You think Mary gonna be alright?” Tamika asked nervously, her fingers drumming against the glass.

Elijah took a slow sip, a cynical smirk on his face. “I know Mary. She been through worse. She can handle that shit.”

Tamika bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. “Okay... Elijah, I’m pregnant.”

The wine glass hit the table with a sharp clack. Elijah stepped into her space, his eyes searching hers. “Okay. That’s... that’s good, right?”

Tamika smiled, nodding hopefully. But the warmth in Elijah’s eyes vanished in an instant.

“So,” Elijah whispered, his voice turning cold. “Who the father then?”

Tamika’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It’s obviously yours, you simple-minded—!”

“Come off that shit, T!” Elijah roared, slamming his hand against the wall. “I seen you. I know you been trailin’ after Aron like a damn whore!”

“How dare you say that to me!”

“You know what? Just keep on walkin’,” Elijah snapped, turning his back on her and storming out of the house.

Lamar’s Place

The air inside Lamar’s house was thick with the Cocaine of product. Deon and Felix stepped through the door and were immediately met by the business end of two handguns held by Lamar’s associates. On the table, stacks of cash and bricks of cocaine sat in plain sight.

“Hey, drop that! It’s us!” Deon shouted, throwing his hands up.

Lamar waved his men down. “Y'all know we gotta stay sharp. These damn cops is everywhere.” He turned his gaze to Felix, a sarcastic glint in his eye. “So, your boy here done with school already? Dropped out to join the real world?”

In a quiet apartment nearby, Daniel Jones—a police officer and Mary’s neighbor—stood by her door. He had spent the last hour trying to talk some sense of peace into her.

“If you need anythin’ at all, Mary... you just knock,” Daniel said softly. Mary nodded through her tears, and Daniel stepped out into the night.

The Clubhouse

The music was loud, but Elijah’s thoughts were louder. He sat at the bar, nursing a drink, the faces of Mary, Felix, and Tamika swirling in his mind. The peace was shattered when Aron sauntered up, flanked by his crew.

“Well, well, well,” Aron mocked, leaning over the bar. “If it ain’t the newest daddy in L.A. I told you, Elijah—stay away from my bitch. Now look at ya. ‘Bout to be a father to a son that ain’t even yours.”

Elijah didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his fist connecting squarely with Aron’s jaw. The club erupted into a chaotic blur of flying chairs and swinging fists.

Lamar’s House

“Felix wants to talk to you, Lamar,” Deon said, his voice serious. “It’s bidness.”

Lamar smirked, leaning back over the table of white powder. “What’s up, Sinclair? You look like you got somethin' on your mind.”

Felix took a deep breath. He thought about the principal’s office, the empty pantry at home, and the way the world looked at him like he was nothing. “I want in. I want to join your bidness.”

Lamar’s eyebrows shot up. “D, is Sinclair for real? He sure he wanna get his hands dirty?”

Deon nodded solemnly, but Felix stepped forward, cutting through the chatter. “Look, Lamar. Don’t talk to Deon about me. You talk to me.”

Lamar chuckled, impressed by the steel in the young man’s voice. “You got heart, Sinclair. I’ll give you that. Alright. I got just the right job for you tomorrow.”

Deon and Felix shared a look—a mixture of triumph and terror.

The Hotel

The suite was silent save for the heavy breathing of Paul and three of the girls. One girl, however, sat bolt upright. She glanced at Paul’s sleeping form, then crept toward the wardrobe. She pulled out the black backpack, her eyes widening as she unzipped it to find kilos of pure white cocaine. A predatory smirk crossed her face. She dressed quickly, slung the bag over her shoulder, and vanished into the night.

The Jones Residence

Eighteen-year-old Keisha Jones sat in her bedroom, the soft crackle of a music box filling the air. The soulful strains of “Law of the Land” by The Temptations drifted through the room. A sharp rap on her window made her heart leap.

She rushed over, throwing the glass up to reveal Felix. She pulled him inside, hugging him so tight he winced at his bruises.

“I thought you weren’t comin’ to see me tonight,” she whispered into his neck.

“I always show up for my Keisha,” Felix murmured.

As the music played on—"Whether you like it or you understand,it's the law of the land”—Keisha checked the door, turned the lock, and melted back into Felix’s arms. They kissed, a brief moment of desperate happiness in a world that was quickly closing in on them.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***