He tapped the glass with his gold class ring. “Did you miss me?”
“Back up,” I said. “Get away from my house, now.”
Travis didn’t move. Instead, he tipped his head toward the door, as if he could inhale my living room in one deep breath.
“I’ve had lots of anger since I was banned from group,” he said. “So, I decided to take a walk. I thought you could counsel me, open the door.”
“Travis, you’re on probation,” I said, making sure my camera would catch the words. “You’re not supposed to have contact with me.”
I hoped my camera would catch a glimpse of his class ring for proof of his identity.
“Relax,” he said, spreading his hands before he let them fall. “I just came to talk.”
Boots scuffed on the sidewalk below the steps.
Not Travis’s gait. Slower, and more deliberate.
The doorbell widened its glow and took in a hood at the bottom of the stairs. I recognized shoulders I’d memorized before I ever meant to.
Colt stopped right where the camera could capture all of him. He lifted his wrists and turned his palms out so the lens would tell the same exact story his hands did.
“Step away from my door,” I said to Travis, louder this time. “No one crosses the threshold under any circumstance. Hands open.”
My eyes cut over to Colt and gave him the same rules. “No first strike.”
Colt’s fingers were loose, but he didn’t look at me.
He focused all of his attention on the thing that needed it.
Travis laughed. “Look at this,” he said, without looking away from me, “you’ve got yourself a little shadow.”
There was nothing little about Colt.
“Listen to me,” I said as my eyes locked on Travis. “Leave.”
But he leaned closer. Smoke and wet wool lingered on him. He wanted me to smell him, for the chain to feel small.
Fire burned in his eyes. “You stacked the cards against me, counselor. You and your pet.”
Colt climbed one step but then stopped. “Walk away.”
Travis turned toward him like metal that found a magnet. He took two steps toward Colt. Quickly.
Suddenly, Travis was close enough to fog Colt’s hood with his breath.
“You think you’re better than me,” Travis said.
He looked like he might snap.
“I don’t ever think about you,” Colt answered, “until you touch what doesn’t belong to you.”
Across the narrow street my neighbor’s porch lit yellow, flickered a few times, and stayed lit. A silhouette formed behind a second-floor curtain and didn’t move.
“Stop,” I said, but the house swallowed the word.
“You only swing when someone can’t answer,” Colt said, grimacing as he glared at Travis. “You’re a coward. Can you handle yourself against a man like me?”
Colt had goaded Travis, whose eyes were wide as saucers.
