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There was an inherent fear in DeShawn whenever he attended parties like this.

In direct comparison to the sort of suaree’s that he attended back in his hometown, these Ohio raves were extremely tame. It was kids doing kid things and being all the better for it. Even after eighteen months, Dee had still yet to truly get used to this way of living. Whenever he rounded a corner, he still half expected to see bodies on the floor or for some white police officer to pistol whip him in the face for merely being black and in attendance of the party. 

Still his fear was not rooted in racism and violence. The clear and present danger for Dee was keeping himself out of trouble. His aunt and uncle had made the conditions of his living with them very clear; [color=CB8DEB][b]stay out of shit, keep your mouth shut and your fists at your side and you will have a roof over your head.[/b][/color] You wouldn’t know it but all of the above were incredibly arduous tasks for the linebacker. DeShawn was all but compelled to intervene when someone was in trouble. It had nearly gotten him killed before but his current track record was good, for the most part. A few fist fights here and there but nothing to report back to the guardians which was a good thing. Yet parties like this offered temptation and it took a hell of a lot to suppress the corner boy within.

As the Boys seperated to seek out booze, drugs, meats and companionship, Dee drifted to the corner of the room to get the lay of the land; a habit that stemmed from his old life. [color=CB8DEB][b]Keep your back to the wall, scope out all the exits, don’t let them see you sweat and don’t stand out.[/b][/color] The last of those was difficult considering DeShawn looked like the Hulks baby brother and had done since he was fourteen. It was even worse prior to Rosefell. Not only was he tall and thick but he also had the sickest dreads, something that drew even further attention to him. For a brief moment, his mind wandered back to a different life, his heart beating fast and his fists clenched hard.

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[i]West Baltimore. Two Years Go.[/i]

He fought back tears as he sat and stared at the floor. The blood trickled down his forehead from where the blade had nicked his scalp and his father’s shadow loomed over him like an all encompassing storm. 

DeShawn had been arrested; again. Not on the scene of course; he was too fast for that. They picked him up in school; easily identifying him as one of many young kids slinging dope on the corner thanks to his dreadlocks. Trey had warned him multiple times; don’t stand out. Once the police had gone, the Soulman had gotten to work. He wrestled his son to the floor and forcefully started hacking away at Dee’s hair with a kitchen knife until his locks were no more.

[b]“You look like a real fucking man now”[/b]

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Snapping back to reality; the big guy mapped out the ways in and out of the mansion; not something he’d ever considered he would ever do unless he was robbing the place. He saw his Boys starting up their usual Boy shit, Colin and Rico were plotting shit over by a drinks table. He had no doubt like so many other nights before this one he would end up dragging one or both of their asses out of the party, fucked out of their heads and in desperate need of an Uber. 

Dee saw Melissa moving around her kingdom like the Queen she was and made a mental note to catch up with her later. It had been a week since their last rough and tumble and he wondered what was new in her life. Missy wasn’t the only game in town however as once his street anxiety began to subside, DeShawn began to look around the room for some company of the female variety.

Who wants to hang with the Boys when the girls dance so good?[/center]