Read Online At the City's Edge by Marcus Sakey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marcus Sakey
Ads: Link
ways.
‘You can leave,’ Washington said, ‘anytime you like. No one is forced to stay. You can go back to the street, back to putting
your work in. I know you’re strong enough,’ glanced over his shoulder, ‘both of you. I respect your strength.’ He set the
pan down. ‘But is strength enough?’ He paused, nodded at Ronald, who unwound twenty-inch arms from Oscar’s chest. ‘What did
strength get you, Ronald?’
‘Four years gladiator school.’ The man spoke quietly, his voice at once rumbling and soft. ‘Me shot three times. My l’il brother
dead.’
Washington nodded. ‘That’s right. And you know why?’ He gestured at the two boys holding Diego. They slowly released him,
but stayed close. Diego puffed out his chest, kept his face hard, but didn’t make a move. ‘Because that kind of strength isn’t
enough.’ Washington stepped forward, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the play of muscles beneath. Looked him in
the eye. ‘You know that. That’s why you’re here.
‘The street says stand up straight. Take shit from no man, right? Murder if you got to.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s a start. But
when everybody gets that same lesson, what happens?’
Washington scanned their faces. Other than Ronald, not one of them was over nineteen. Most had been banging since they were
shorties, twelve or thirteen years old. Children of single mothers, never knew a father figure. That they were listening at
all was a miracle, a testament to how badly they wanted out of the life. Even Christ hadn’t been able to sell salvation to
contented sinners.
‘Everybody here came on their own. Left their set and came to me for help. Climbed past the sign says Lantern Bearers, knocked
on my door. Said, “Dr. Matthews, I’m tired. There got to be more.”’ He paused. ‘And I said, “Son, there is.”’
‘That
vendejo
disrespected Vice Lords.’ Diego turned his head and spat. ‘Shit don’t go unanswered.’
Washington shook his head. ‘You leave that behind. No street names, no flying colors. If you’re out, you got to get all the
way.’
‘I want out. But he don’t get to piss on my people.’
‘I understand,’ Washington said. ‘They’re your friends.
Su familia.
’
‘That’s right.’
‘You were with them years, they looked out for you.’
Diego nodded at him, wary.
‘So why are you here?’
‘Huh?’
‘Why come here?’
‘Because…’ Diego struggled. ‘My girl, she
embarazada,
right? Six months. And I don’t want my baby growin’ up to be no –’
‘Gangster?’ Washington asked.
Diego shrugged, looked away.
‘Coming here, son, that took strength. More strength than the street.’ He stepped closer, locked eyes with Diego. ‘I respect
that.’ He held the gaze for a few more seconds, let the boy see he meant it. ‘Nobody is forced to stay. You want to go,’ he
gestured down the hall, ‘door’s over there. Go back to banging and hustling and always looking over your shoulder. But if
you stay, you leave the rest behind. You hear?’
Diego left his killer face on, but nodded. It was a start. Baby steps.
‘What are we about?’ Washington threw out the call.
‘Respect,’ the response came back.
‘What are we about?’
‘RESPECT.’ The voices rang together.
He nodded. ‘All right. Now let’s eat.’ He bent and began picking up oranges and scattered silverware. And felt that familiar
thrill of pride when ten hands joined his.
The day would be a busy one. After the meal, while Ronald oversaw the cleanup – wisely separating Oscar and Diego, no point
rubbing flint and steel – Washington retreated to his office. Lousy day to sleep late. One of his boys had a job interview
and wanted him along. He had a shift at the library later. Plus a pile of paperwork, forms that declared the Lantern
Bearers a 501(c)(3) organization, stated that he was not-for-profit.
Shit, he hadn’t been for profit since he was
‘You can leave,’ Washington said, ‘anytime you like. No one is forced to stay. You can go back to the street, back to putting
your work in. I know you’re strong enough,’ glanced over his shoulder, ‘both of you. I respect your strength.’ He set the
pan down. ‘But is strength enough?’ He paused, nodded at Ronald, who unwound twenty-inch arms from Oscar’s chest. ‘What did
strength get you, Ronald?’
‘Four years gladiator school.’ The man spoke quietly, his voice at once rumbling and soft. ‘Me shot three times. My l’il brother
dead.’
Washington nodded. ‘That’s right. And you know why?’ He gestured at the two boys holding Diego. They slowly released him,
but stayed close. Diego puffed out his chest, kept his face hard, but didn’t make a move. ‘Because that kind of strength isn’t
enough.’ Washington stepped forward, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the play of muscles beneath. Looked him in
the eye. ‘You know that. That’s why you’re here.
‘The street says stand up straight. Take shit from no man, right? Murder if you got to.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s a start. But
when everybody gets that same lesson, what happens?’
Washington scanned their faces. Other than Ronald, not one of them was over nineteen. Most had been banging since they were
shorties, twelve or thirteen years old. Children of single mothers, never knew a father figure. That they were listening at
all was a miracle, a testament to how badly they wanted out of the life. Even Christ hadn’t been able to sell salvation to
contented sinners.
‘Everybody here came on their own. Left their set and came to me for help. Climbed past the sign says Lantern Bearers, knocked
on my door. Said, “Dr. Matthews, I’m tired. There got to be more.”’ He paused. ‘And I said, “Son, there is.”’
‘That
vendejo
disrespected Vice Lords.’ Diego turned his head and spat. ‘Shit don’t go unanswered.’
Washington shook his head. ‘You leave that behind. No street names, no flying colors. If you’re out, you got to get all the
way.’
‘I want out. But he don’t get to piss on my people.’
‘I understand,’ Washington said. ‘They’re your friends.
Su familia.
’
‘That’s right.’
‘You were with them years, they looked out for you.’
Diego nodded at him, wary.
‘So why are you here?’
‘Huh?’
‘Why come here?’
‘Because…’ Diego struggled. ‘My girl, she
embarazada,
right? Six months. And I don’t want my baby growin’ up to be no –’
‘Gangster?’ Washington asked.
Diego shrugged, looked away.
‘Coming here, son, that took strength. More strength than the street.’ He stepped closer, locked eyes with Diego. ‘I respect
that.’ He held the gaze for a few more seconds, let the boy see he meant it. ‘Nobody is forced to stay. You want to go,’ he
gestured down the hall, ‘door’s over there. Go back to banging and hustling and always looking over your shoulder. But if
you stay, you leave the rest behind. You hear?’
Diego left his killer face on, but nodded. It was a start. Baby steps.
‘What are we about?’ Washington threw out the call.
‘Respect,’ the response came back.
‘What are we about?’
‘RESPECT.’ The voices rang together.
He nodded. ‘All right. Now let’s eat.’ He bent and began picking up oranges and scattered silverware. And felt that familiar
thrill of pride when ten hands joined his.
The day would be a busy one. After the meal, while Ronald oversaw the cleanup – wisely separating Oscar and Diego, no point
rubbing flint and steel – Washington retreated to his office. Lousy day to sleep late. One of his boys had a job interview
and wanted him along. He had a shift at the library later. Plus a pile of paperwork, forms that declared the Lantern
Bearers a 501(c)(3) organization, stated that he was not-for-profit.
Shit, he hadn’t been for profit since he was
Similar Books
