Date: Wed, 15 Feb 2017 09:01:38 -0600
From: Kurt King <kingkurt1339@gmail.com>
Subject: The New Life of Cal King Chapter 6

	This story may contain sexual acts between males, persons below the
age of consent, and relatives. If this offends you or is illegal for you to
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	This story is fictional and entirely the work of the author's
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	Don't forget that you can always contact me to give me feedback! I
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welcome, especially as I'm constantly changing events that happen in the
story, and will be publishing other stories!

	My other story can be found at the folowing link:
	NLXK:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-new-life-of-xander-king/

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	This story is not a quick jack-off story. If you are looking for
that, you would be best going to another story. If you are interested in
not just the sex, but also the lives of the characters and their romances
and dramas, then read on, and I hope you enjoy it!

	Last chapter, I concluded the major conflict arc, and Cal and Cam
went on their date, where Greyson revealed that he had a crush on his older
brother, and Cal realized that Greyson had abandonment issues.

	In this chapter, a question I've been asked since the first chapter
will be answered: where are their parents? Also, I'm going to tease you all
a little bit with a character.

~~Chapter Six – A Wolf's Dragon~~

[Cal]

	"You're not separating us," my worst fears have come true.

	Not just my worst, but the worst of my worst fears: the truth about
us was discovered, the truth about my parents is known.

	Two and a half years ago, my parents deserted us. They left a bank
account with money in it that gets withdrawn monthly for bills and such,
and from which I pull our other expenses. I'm not sure how it managed to
get untouched by them, or how things like appointments and enrolling for
school are done, but we've never had to worry about anyone find out those
ways.

	But now, it's four days before Christmas, and right now, I'm
arguing with the social worker in the hospital.

	Greyson got hurt pretty bad. He was running from some bullies while
on a walk with Henry, and he went out into the road and got hit by a
car. He'll be fine, but because of that, it was discovered that we're
living on our own, and she's wanting to separate me from my brothers
because of my age and how many of us there are. I'm arguing that we're
staying together, but she's not caring.

	"I can't guarantee that," she says. "No one takes in boys as old as
you, and a group of four is pretty big to put together. We've got someone
coming now, he and his husband take in young boys all the time. They've got
space, so you might get lucky, but they've never taken in a boy as old as
you before, so don't count on it. Talking them into taking Travis will push
the age limit they've set."

	As if things weren't already bad, I can see David down the hall,
walking this way. I'll probably lose my job, once he finds out. So not only
are the boys and I getting separated, but I'm losing my job. I'm doing my
best to stay calm. I just hope Cam won't care, and that I stay close
enough. I've gotten to like him a lot more.

	"Hey, Cal," David says when he gets to us. "What are you doing
here?"

	"You two know each other?" The social worker asks.

	"I'm his employer," David looks at her. "How do you know him?"

	"He's the older brother I'd told you about," she says. "He works
for you?"

	"At my restaurant," David says.

	"But-"

	"We don't serve alcohol," David says. "Which means it's legal. And
even if we did, he could act as a busboy or dishwasher. He's a host, and
one of the best I've ever had," and then he turns his eyes to me, narrowing
his gaze. "How long have you been without your parents?"

	"Two years, six months, eight days."

	"You were able to pull that right out?"

	"June thirteenth of thirteen," I say. "That was the last time any
of us have seen them in person."

	"In person?" They both ask.

	"I meant the last time we've seen them," I amend.

	"In person," David keeps his gaze on me. "How else have you seen
them?"

	"Social media," I answer. "I know where they're at, and frankly, I
don't care. We don't need them. I was practically raising the boys by
myself when they left, anyway."

	"How have you managed to pay the bills?" David asks.

	"Automatic withdrawals from a bank account," I say. "If I budget a
hundred dollars a week for food, and four hundred every six month months
for other supplies, clothes, school supplies, and such, then factor in
increasing prices in bills, rent, and so on, then the money would run out
when I'm nineteen. I was planning on filing for custody for them then. If I
had an established job that I'd worked out for several years, it would be
more likely for me to be able to gain custody of them."

	"And that's why you were looking for a job?"

	"And to give us a better food budget," I answer. "As well as the
ability to buy a car once I turned eighteen without having to make a down
payment or take out a loan, and same for a house. It's why my checks go
into my savings account, and I only keep my tips. The more financially
stable I am, the easier it would be for me to gain custody of them and
prove I can take care of them. I was planning to start investing as soon as
I was eighteen, too, as I wouldn't need my parents then."

	"You've thought this all out," he says.

	"I have an IQ that is literally off the charts," I state. "I've
made sure my brothers are provided for up until now, I didn't have any
plans on ever abandoning them."

	"Did you say you know where your parents are?" The officer who was
talking to me before the social worker found me approaches. "We'll need to
contact them."

	"They're not getting custody of me," I look at him. "Or my
brothers. I've been taking care of them since I was ten, and raising them
since I was thirteen."

	"We still need to contact them," the officer says. "They'll be give
a variety of charges."

	"They've been in Vegas."

	"And you're sure that's where they're at?" The officer asks.

	"Have been for over two years," I say. "And the last time I caught
wind of their location was two weeks ago, and they were there, so I'm sure
they're still there, partying it up like they've been doing. That's not our
real dad, anyway, and the egg donor's just a whore, so it's not like I care
what they're doing. I've got my brothers."

	"Do you know where your real father is?" The officer asks.

	"East Lakeview Cemetery," I answer. "Field twenty-eight, plot
forty-six. Heart attack, probably because of the whore," I turn to
David. "And if you take my brothers, you take me, too. There's no
separating us."

	"I don't take kids in to break up their families," David says, then
looks at the social worker. "Will my knowing him affect my ability to
foster him?"

	"Some places, yes," she says. "Here, no. You've never fostered a
boy as old as him before, David."

	"He's also been raising his brothers," David says. "Has maintained
a perfect attendance and perfect score at school, and has never missed a
day of work, working hard and rarely having any complaints - and the ones
he does have, I dismiss. He's one teen I know I can handle."

	They don't need to keep Greyson overnight for observation, so they
let us go, and David takes us to his house. His husband, Brent, is a
househusband, opting to live off his massive inheritance and his husband's
income while taking care of any foster kids they take in at their massive
house.

	It's got five bedrooms, four of which are used for foster children,
of which we're his only ones right now. Each foster room is set up
identical to the others. Two beds that are bunk style, but the bottom
contains a desk instead of a bed. Two dressers, and its own bathroom, with
plenty of space between the beds for comfort. He and his husband also have
an in-ground pool, though since we've got two inches of snow right now,
it's empty and has a cover over it. Huge, fenced-in back yard, four-car
garage.

	Travis and I claim one room, the twins take the one directly across
the hall from us. Greyson apologizes to me a thousand times for not paying
attention, and I have to tell him a thousand times it wasn't his fault.

	According to Henry, even though Greyson was terrified, he (Henry)
wanted to fight the bullies, but since Greyson was running, he had to run,
too, but for different reasons. Henry says he tried getting Greyson to
stop, and I believe him. I think he feels just as bad as Greyson about the
whole thing, and I think Travis feels worse.

	He was supposed to be with them, but apparently told them to come
back on their own so he could keep looking at the magazine he was looking
at. I can tell he's already grounded himself, even though he hasn't said
anything. He's just lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, which is what
he always does when he grounds himself.

	The night passes quickly, and as I expected, all three of the boys
ended up in my bed. It's kind of cramped. I slowly extract myself to
prepare breakfast. They've got plenty of food, and I wonder what they
normally do for breakfast.

	I start prepping pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausages. They have a
crate of oranges labeled 'orange juice oranges', so I squeeze some of them
as I wonder where the crate of regular oranges is hiding.

	I've never had fresh-squeezed juice anywhere but work. I kind of
forget while I'm cooking that I'm not at home. But at least they have
chocolate chips and blueberries. Two different batches, with a mix of the
two for Greyson, because he's odd.

	Right at six-thirty, the boys are entering the kitchen, ready for
breakfast. I knew they would be, habits don't die that easily. There's
momentary confusion while everyone figures out where the dishes are, then
they set the table. I made enough for all six of us, even though I don't
know when David and Brent get up.

	"Twenty-eight kids," David says from the living room when he sees
us in the living room. "And we've never had breakfast already made before
we got up."

	"Probably because you sleep in and we don't," Travis replies.

	"It's quarter to seven," David says. "I've never had anyone up
before quarter after, even on school days, and you four are already up and
eating breakfast when I come out, and it looks delicious."

	"Cal made enough for you," Henry says. "Though if you want sausage,
you'll need to get it before Greyson eats it all."

	Greyson quickly grabs four more links and adds them to his plate.

	"Whoa, there, buddy!" David laughs as Greyson starts to douse his
new addition with syrup. "You're already sweet enough, I don't think you
need that."

	Greyson blushes and quickly sets the syrup bottle down. David
realizes how that could have sounded and starts to say something else, but
stops when I shake my head at him. Greyson really doesn't need to be eating
that much syrup.

	"You're so sweet, Greyson," I say. "Just existing might give you a
cavity."

	He nods, understanding what I was saying. David starts the
coffeemaker before joining us at the table, Brent joining us right at
seven, as the coffee finishes.

	"Didn't expect you to already be eating," Brent sits next to David
after getting them both some coffee. "You're normally just finishing when I
come down."

	"Cal cooked," David gestures to me. "Did a good job, too. "

	"Is it just me and Emily today?" I ask David. "Or will May be
there, too?"

	"We've got all three of you," he says. "Working the afternoon shift
all week. After that, you'll probably go back to your regular hours, but
with all the Christmas shopping going on, people are going out to eat."

	"I come in at one," I say. "Will she be there when I get there?"

	"May comes in at open," he says. "So she'll be there at ten, and
help Emily with the brunt of the lunch rush, then gets off at eight, while
you stay to close. That way, we've got all three of you during the dinner
rush, and I'll be helping out then as well."

	"Just so you're aware," I say. "I know that the two others you've
hired since I was hired haven't worked out, but we're going to need to hire
on more people, and soon."

	"For when it warms up," he nods. "And the busy season begins."

	"For when Emily gives birth," I say, and he raises an eyebrow. "I
don't think she knows she's pregnant, but I'm never wrong. I've suspected
it for about six weeks, now."

	"And if she isn't pregnant?"

	"I guarantee that she is," I say. "I've never been wrong about
that."

	After breakfast is done, Travis helps me clean up, and David leaves
to go to the restaurant. Brent asks us if we've been Christmas shopping
yet.

	"We don't celebrate Christmas," I say.

	"Why not?" He asks.

	"We've never been big on toys," Travis answers. "Or games, and what
we need, we get when we need it. And we're not Christian, so we don't
celebrate it for religious reasons. To us, it's just another day, there's
no reason to celebrate it."

	"We're not Christian," Brent counters. "And we still celebrate, and
you know we've got a dishwasher, right?"

	Travis and I look at each other, then at him.

	"So did we," we say at the same time.

	"We still don't celebrate Christmas," I say. "Do you know where the
twins ran off to?"

	"Their room," he answers.

	Brent leaves us, and as we're putting away the last of the dishes,
he comes back downstairs, looking confused.

	"The twins are doing worksheets over winter break?"

	"I printed out a bunch at school" I tell him. "This way, they can
keep their education going during the break. Travis has some work as well."

	"It's winter break," Brent says. "You should be enjoying it."

	"Maybe we enjoy learning chemistry," Travis says to him, then looks
at me. "I still want a lab set, and you know Greyson's wanting a computer."

	"Greyson," I say. "Wants to take apart any electronic he comes into
contact with, and if you get any chemicals, he's going to get hold of them
and make something explosive. Again."

	"Greyson's made something explosive?" Brent says, and we realize
that we're not alone.

	Yeah, we're going to take some severe getting used to others at
home.

	"Greyson's made a bomb a few times," I say. "And promptly
dismantled it and built something else. He likes taking other people's old
appliances that they're throwing away to do some of his stuff, but we
occasionally find him at a junkyard. He's good with electronics and motors
and such, but also a tendency to build bombs out of boredom."

	"Active bombs?"

	"None have ever been set off," I say. "But as far as I'm aware,
they're always functional. And no, Travis, I'm not getting you a chemistry
set. I do that, Greyson will want a bunch of electronics he can take apart,
and Henry...we're not even going to get into what he'll start insisting he
be allowed to have. He is NOT getting a camera."

	Travis giggles at that.

	"Camera?" Brent asks.

	"Don't ask," Travis and I say at the same time.

	"You boys," he says. "Have a tendency to say things at the same
time, and you're not even twins."

	"Their sync should really terrify you, then," I say. "Travis, you
doing your worksheets now?"

	"Not sure what else to do," he shrugs. "No chores right now, as far
as I know."

	"We're going shopping," Brent says. "Mall is open early for
Christmas. I know you boys don't celebrate it, but we do here. I'm giving
each of the four of you a budget to buy something for your brothers
with. You don't have to wrap it and give it like a present on Christmas if
you don't want to, but I'd at least like for you to buy something you think
your brothers would like."

	As soon as Henry hears what we're doing, he makes sure the three of
us know that he wants a camera. At the mall, Brent gives each of us a
hundred and fifty dollars, or fifty dollars for each brother. I tell him
I've got my own money, but he says to use his instead.

	While we're shopping, Brent with the boys, me by myself somehow, I
come across a large group of orphans. I know they're orphans because I see
them around every now and then, though they don't go to my school, but
another one not far from their orphanage that caters to four different
orphanages in the area.

	In the group is a brown-haired boy with eyes like the twins', with
a touch of green to them as well, and he looks frightened. I recognize the
kid specifically, though I never knew he was an orphan.

	Every now and then, he shows up at the restaurant, and he orders
the exact same thing every single time, requesting a blueberry cheesecake
with strawberry drizzle to go, and sets a five and a one on the counter as
soon as he orders. He doesn't talk to anyone other than that, and gets
scared off if we try, to returning to get his food if he's already paid.

	He always shows up on a Saturday afternoon, around the same time,
and no one knows what the pattern to his visits are. We call him the
cheesecake kid. There's more to his mystery than just that, though. The big
one is how he knows about that cheesecake - it's a secret menu item, and
he's never looked at one of our menus. According to Emily, he just started
showing up about four or five years ago for it, and even back then, his
visits were random, but always on a Saturday around the same time as he
visits now.

	They really wish he talked, so they could find out how he knows
about that particular secret menu item. It only hits public menu four days
a year: Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day, and
he's never been in for those days, on top of having never looked at our
regular menu anyway.

	I'm about to approach the lady in charge of the orphans when, from
the speakers surrounding this area, an angelic voice begins to play. The
mall has live performances around holidays, and the speakers here are
different from the intercoms that play the corporate station. The singer is
doing "Little Drummer Boy", and as I said, his voice is just angelic. I
look to the stage to see who the singer is, and he's probably around
Travis's age. He's got bright purple hair and blue-gray-green eyes like
cheesecake boy's, looking truly gemlike as they sparkle in the mall.

	Immediately, I know who he is. Travis has mentioned a boy who could
be our brother, with his looks and last name (his normal hair color is
platinum-blond, but he's apparently been dying his hair since after the
first day of school this year).

	His name is Matt King, and he started at their school this year,
though his brother owns his own marital arts studio. He plays his guitar at
the park on Saturday mornings, when it's nice out, starting the first
weekend after school started.

	According to Travis, no one knows if they're actually dating or
not, but a picture went around school back when it started of the two of
them kissing.

	The supposed boyfriend, Liam, is standing beside the stage, his
wavy blond hair gelled back, leaving his face clear and free, showing the
freckles just beneath his brown eyes, with which he's looking at Matt
lovingly. Yeah, my gaydar's going off for both of them. And they're an
item, judging by Liam's gaze, too.

	Matt finishes that song and begins "The First Noel" without
pausing. No instruments or anything, just the sound of his voice echoing
out of the speakers. He doesn't need instruments, though. His voice, alone,
is all that's needed, and damn is he good.

	"That's the Matt I was telling you about," Travis says, and I look
at him. He's got a bag from a bookstore in his hands. "The one who had the
nastiness back in August. And that's Liam by the stage."

	"I figured," I say. "Did you get everyone books?'

	"How'd you guess?" He asks in shock.

	"I'm psychic," he looks at me with wide eyes. "Plus, you only have
one bag."

	He looks down at his bag, then laughs.

	"Oh," he looks back at me, grinning. "I could've hid something in
it, you know."

	"That would require you thinking that far ahead," I say. "Have you
talked to Matt?"

	"Not really," he shrugs. "He's a cool guy and all, but he and his
minions are in a different social circle."

	"Minions?"

	"His friends," Travis laughs. "Matt calls them his minions. I think
it's part of his way of coping with social activity. That, and he's just
strange. Did you know that he has three channels? AlmightyKingMatt for the
music he does by himself, KingMattsAndHisArmy for the songs he does with
his friends, and KingMattProductions for the videos he makes. That last one
has no videos on it right now, so we're all wondering what it's for. Also,
he's got his own website, where he does different animated shows that he
does all by himself. No one knew that until the last day of school, when he
was talking at lunch and told Liam that he had to work on one of them and
couldn't hang out, since he wanted to have it up by the end of the
day. See? He's really freaking good."

	"Yeah, he is," I pop him in the back of the head. "Did you finish
shopping?"

	"I've got a couple more things to get," he shakes his head, and I
laugh. "What?"

	"Go get them," I say.

	"Have you gotten anything?" He asks.

	"Yeah."

	"Where is it?"

	"Already in the car," I answer, and he stops, staring at me in
disbelief. "I was fast. I'd hurry up, I have to be at work in an hour and a
half."

	Travis takes off, and I locate Brent, reminding him that I have to
be at work. Greyson and Henry both have bags, and they're from two
different shops.

	"Did you already get your things?" Brent asks.

	"They're in the car already," I state. "I'm just waiting on all of
you."

	Almost an hour later, we're at the house. I take a shower and get
ready, then Brent drives me to the restaurant. It's slammed when I get in,
with ten different parties waiting. I get in and start to go around the
counter, and someone grabs my arm.

	"Hey," the man says, obviously thinking I was going to go and sit
down. "You need to get in line behind the rest of us."

	"I'm-" I start to explain what I'm doing.

	"Don't give me any bullshit," he says. "You were so going to go and
sit down. Just because you're young doesn't mean you can just cut in front
of us, I've been waiting for almost an hour. Now get your ass to the back
of the line."

	"Sir," I say. "Please let go of my arm, or I will exercise my right
to use reasonable force."

	"Listen here," he jerks my arm, pulling me towards him. "I've been
waiting for over an hour. You're going to get your ass to the back of the
line, or-"

	"You're going to let go of my arm," I lock gazes with him. "Or
you're going to end up in pain."

	"You need to stop smiling, too," he says. "Smiling isn't going to
get you-"

	I jerk my arm, causing him to stumble, and his grip loosens. I
slide my arm free and take a step back. He reaches for me, and I step to
the side so that he stumbles.

	"Sir," I say as he rights himself. "I am an employee here. I am
trying to clock in, and you've now made me late. In addition to that, you
have assaulted a worker of this restaurant. We will no longer serve you, so
please leave."

	"You lying piece of shit," the man snarls, smacking me in the
face. "I've been waiting an hour after spending all day shopping, I'm not
going to listen to some high school brat who thinks he's the boss."

	He lunges at me, and I snap. I sidestep him, kicking out a foot so
that he trips, and then I slam an elbow into his back, sending him into the
ground with greater force than he would have had he simply tripped.

	"You will get out of this restaurant now," my smile is gone,
now. "Or I will call the police and have them arrest you. If you call the
police and attempt to have me arrest you, they will be given the footage of
you attacking me not once, not twice, but three different times. You are no
longer welcome in this restaurant, do not ever return."

	The man glares up at me, but I think the expression on my face
tells him what he needs to do, because he just leaves instead of saying
another word. I take a deep breath, then look at the customers who are
waiting, smiling again.

	"Sorry about the hassle," I say. "As soon as I'm clocked in and
ready to go, I'll be out to start seating you."

	I go into the break room, my smile fading, and I try to calm myself
down. I'm angry, and not just at that man, he just made me snap. I'm angry
because we got found out, that they know I've been taking care of my
siblings, I'm angry because they wouldn't let me keep doing what I'd been
doing, because they won't let us stay just us. And then he grabbed me and
went off on me like he did. Why do they have to act like I'm a kid? I'm
more mature than most of the adults I know, and I've been acting as one
since before I was even a teen.

	Screaming, I punch my locker. Instead of denting it, my hand just
hurts. That's one strong locker.

	"Cal."

	"I-" I turn to face David, but don't manage to get anything else
out, just start crying.

	I don't cry. Ever. But I can't stop this. Why? I'm aware of David
leaving the room, and a minute later, he returns with Cam. My Cam. Cam
walks over to me and wraps me in a hug. I hug him back, but I can't stop
the tears.

	"It's weird, you know," Cam says when I finally stop crying. "No
one's ever known you to be emotional in any way. Or even really show
emotion. Here you are, though, bawling."

	"I don't cry," I squeeze him. "I just...it just happened."

	"It's called 'stress'," David says, causing us to jump. He's at the
doorway. "And it's a powerful thing. I was wondering when you'd snap,
didn't think it'd be here."

	"I'm not stressed."

	"You're pretty stressed," he says. "Trust me. Even if you're not
aware of it, you're stressed. You can take the day off, Cal, collect
yourself and calm yourself, and we'll see you tomorrow."

	"I'm fine" I shake my head, stepping away from Cam. "And you need
the hands, we're slammed. Sorry for taking so long to get in."

	I wash my face real quick, then pull on my apron and hat, clocking
in and washing my hands.

	"Dude," Cam says to David, and I turn around to see David giving
him a look. "He's been your employee longer than he's been my boyfriend, I
can't control him anymore than you can. He wants to work, it's your game
now."

	"Keep the smile on your face," David sighs, looking at me. "And
don't cross the line."

	He leaves, and Cam looks at me, confused.

	"What kind of line is he talking about?"

	"Probably murder," I shrug, and he gives me a quick kiss on the
lips, and I get to work.

	I'm still feeling off, and my regulars notice that as I work. I do
my best to not be snappy and keep the sass down, but some does slip
out. The sass, not the snap. At least sass is allowed, to a point. I'm
passing by the entrance to get drinks for a customer I just seated when a
man in a mask enters the building, a gun in each hand.

	"Get out!" I snap, catching him off guard as I do a roundhouse
kick, my foot connecting with the side of his head the moment he notices
me.

	He loses his grip on his guns as he recoils from the hit, the mask
popping off. He tries to react, but I punch him in the sternum, the
stomach, the nose, then deliver a hard kick to his crotch. He drops to his
knees, and I deliver another kick to his head, and this time, he goes
down. He's not a fighter, and even if he started learning to fight after
his last visit here I'd still kick his ass.

	"And don't get up," I glare down at him, then take a deep breath
and look at David, who's looking at me in shock. "You've go the phone, want
to call the police? Also, this is Wesley Jackson, that guy who's always in
here ranting about how he's going to purge the gays, so I think this counts
as a hate crime."

	"Feel better?" David asks.

	"Much," I nod.

	"And that!" Emily calls out. "Ladies and gentlemen, is why you
should never enter the Wolf's Dragon with guns drawn, unless you can defend
yourself against the little dragon that hits harder than a you-know-what!"

	"We need an ambulance at the Wolf's Dragon restaurant," David gives
the operator our address. "A gunman just entered the building a moment
ago. No, just one ambulance. All of our workers are trained in
self-defense, and one happened to be just beside the door when he came
in. Well, when you enter a restaurant wearing black, a mask, and holding
two guns, both raising up as you pass through the door, you're going to get
your ass kicked before you can fire off a shot. We're not hesitating when
it comes to the safety of our customers."

	We go back to serving people as David pulls zip-ties out of his
pocket and restrains the gunman. I'm now curious to know why he has them on
him, since I never knew he did. When the police show up, they take
statements from everyone. One of the officers is trying to claim I used
excessive force by knocking him out and has me cuffed.

	"He was an armed gunman," David intervenes. "Even though the guns
were out of his hands, we weren't going to allow him a chance to hurt
anyone, employee or customer. He came in here with two guns drawn, ready to
shoot. My employee acted to protect not only his safety, but the safety of
the other workers and the customers. Would you have had an issue with me
shooting the man before he could fire off a shot? He had two guns drawn."

	"Could you have even managed that?" The officer asks.

	"Emily and I both carry firearms as we work," David
says. Seriously? "And we both had them drawn the moment we saw his
guns. Fortunately for him, Cal was right there."

	"After reviewing the tapes," the officer's partner, a female, says
to him. "I'll say that he didn't use excessive force, except for in the
crotch shot. I can understand the need to make sure the customers are safe,
but that? That was just low, boy."

	"Low," I say. "But it took him down. That dude's a foot and a half
taller than me."

	"Uncuff him," she says to her partner. "Any judge would rule in his
favor, based on that detail, and the fact that he was acting to protect his
customers."

	The male officer sighs, then looks at me and tells me to turn
around. I hand him the cuffs.

	"Um..." He's not sure how to react.

	"They really weren't that hard to slip out of," I say.

	"I've never had anyone slip out of them before," he looks
astonished.

	"Rookie," the female snorts, then looks at me. "I've had a few guys
do that before. Was doing a demonstration for a high school a couple of
years ago, and the girl I cuffed had small wrists. Didn't think she'd be
able to slip out, but turns out, if she tucked her thumbs in, she could
just lip her hands right out, her wrists were so small. You probably did it
the way it's normally done."

	"Probably," I say. "I just wanted to see if I could, and turns out,
I can."

	"I'll use the zips," she says. "I ever have to arrest you."

~~END OF CHAPTER SIX~~

	Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! As always, feedback
(comments, questions, suggestions, etc.) can be sent to me directly at
kingkurt1339@gmail.com – I try to respond to every email!

	Unless something major happens, we are officially in the final
countdown for NLCK. Three chapters left!

	TriviaTime! The singing Matt at the mall is the one whose story
will begin after this one ends, but he's been around longer than even
NLXK's first draft by a couple of years.
	NLCK starts on October 10th, 2015, while NLXK starts on May 21st,
2016, over half a year later. At this point, it's December 21st, 2015, and
yes, the singing scene will be in NLMK. NLMK, for those who are wondering,
starts on August 12th, 2015.

	For those wondering about the crossover of Xander into this story
– that orphan boy might be Xander, he might not be. I'm teasing y'all
with that. Xander makes an appearance as himself in the final chapter –
the point of the full crossover, which will take place on November 4th,
2016.

	Thanks for reading, look forward to Chapter 7!