Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I guess it’s time I tell you.”
Past time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cam sat in the dark. It wasn’t that late, but the power was off, so their tiny apartment borrowed light from the street. Mama hadn’t paid the power bill. Any money she got went straight to that pipe. No lights. No TV. He could have gone to his friend’s house to watch Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, but ever since Mac did what he did, Cam felt different around his friends. Like they could look at him and tell. Or they would smell Mac’s musty cologne. That somehow they would know.
So he sat in the dark, eating malt balls Lashaun slipped him at the skating rink a couple of nights ago. Tomorrow was Old School Night. His friends thought he was crazy for liking all the old songs. At school and on the corners they played Jay-Z and Nas and Pac, but sometimes Mama would listen to the radio, and it was always Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, Smokey Robinson. Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On,” Bill Withers singing about the sun not shining when she’s gone—hard to hear, but he couldn’t help listening. He couldn’t help but think Marvin and Bill had somewhere to put the hurt, and Cam could hear it. He could feel it in every song. Only he couldn’t sing or play any instrument, so his hurt had nowhere to go. And sometimes it puffed up inside of him and leaked onto his pillow at night. He couldn’t tell the guys any of that.
A sound out back behind the apartment, a small pop muffled by the noise of the street, caught his attention. One of the guys got a BB gun for Christmas. It kind of sounded like that. That would be better than eating malt balls in the dark, so Cam went out back.
It wasn’t a BB gun.
And that wasn’t fake blood like in the movies spreading through Mac’s pants. He sat on the ground, back to the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him. Someone’s broad back hid part of Mac’s face, but Cam would know every part of him anywhere. He must have made a sound because the man with the broad back turned, and for the first time in his life, Cam stared down the barrel of a gun.
“Get on back upstairs, if you know what’s good for you,” the stranger said.
The man’s lips barely moved, but his words were like pellets, hitting Cam in the face. Cam was numb to threats now. One too many made good on would do that to you. He just looked back at the man with the gun. A hoodie pulled over his head hid his face, but Cam could see he was tall and muscular. He wore a baggy T-shirt, tan work boots, and a thick gold chain around his neck.
“I said get back in, kid.”
Feet nailed to the ground, Cam looked past the stranger to Mac bleeding on the ground. His rat eyes remained alert, sliding from the gun to the man. Cam knew how Mac looked right before he pounced.
“He’s moving!” Cam said, knowing the man with the gun couldn’t be more evil than Mac.
The stranger turned and didn’t ask questions, just shot Mac in his other thigh. Mac howled like a coyote, and despite the fear shaking like Jell-O in his belly, Cam laughed, leaned against the wall and pointed laughing. The stranger looked over his shoulder at Cam.
“Who you, kid?”
Mac’s eyes rolled in his head with the pain, but he managed to focus long enough to give Cam a dirty smile. That made Cam stop laughing. Mac might be shot up and on the ground, but that didn’t change nothing.
“He’s my mama’s pimp.”
“Well, he gon’ be a dead pimp tonight.”
Cam didn’t flinch. His heart lifted in his chest like a feather floating from under a stone.
“Good.” Cam trained his eyes on Mac, not quite believing relief was this close. He’d believe it when he saw it. And he planned to see it. “Do it.”
The man flipped his hood back, and Cam knew it was going to happen. It was Deuce Williams. Even Cam knew him. He’d dropped out of high school and he wasn’t big-time, just dime bags and no real weight, but he was mean and he was hungry. Everybody knew he was a hustler and he was dangerous. He’d pull that trigger.
“He ever touch you?”
The question stabbed Cam in the throat. Mama knew, but she didn’t care. No one else had ever asked. No one else had ever cared. Only the rats and roaches had seen what Mac did. Cam saw one time on a TV show they told the man to blink twice for yes. His voice had left him, so he blinked twice, but Deuce didn’t seem to get it.
“He touched my little brother, Rollo.” Deuced growled like a pit bull. “Took him in the back of the corner store.”