Read Online Boy Kills Man by Matt Whyman - Free Book Online Page B

at the ceiling all night, but I appreciate you taking it. I slept like a big old baby. It was sweet, some of the things I dreamed about.’ And that’s where he stopped, because I wasn’t laughing with him. ‘Do you want some coffee?’ he asked. ‘Everyone is out this morning. I figured we should bring the stereo down, or maybe watch some cartoons for a while.’
    â€˜Sure,’ I said, thinking I might cry. I tried hard not to meet Alberto’s eye, but he was waiting for me to look at him. When I glanced up finally, he swore under his breath.
    â€˜The gun. You’ve still got it.’
    â€˜Of course.’ I patted my side to reassure him. ‘Alberto, stop staring at me like that. Everything is fine.’
    Alberto blinked and stepped back at last. ‘Well, I appreciate you looking after it. If you ever want me to do something for you, just say the word.’ At the same time, he gestured for me to hand it over. I bit into my lip and reached around for the clasp to the holster.
    â€˜Here, let me help you with that.’
    Before I could stop him, Alberto had come round beside me. I tried to stop him from lifting my top to find the buckle, and that’s when he just took over.
    â€˜Mother of God, what has happened to you?’
    â€˜Nothing.’ I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
    â€˜Sonny, those bruises … was it Jairo?’
    â€˜No!’
    â€˜Yes, it was. Of course it was him! Don’t lie to me, Sonny!’
    â€˜I can handle it,’ I pleaded, again when he snatched the pistol from the holster. ‘
Please,
Alberto!’
    I tried to grab his arm, but he shook me off. I knew where he was heading as he stormed from the apartment, and a wave of shame and panic crashed over me. My friend had the gun now, and I had nothing. Not even my pride.
    â€˜Open this door.’ Alberto was standing outside my apartment, looking strangely calm as he waited for me to let him in. Keeping up had been a struggle, but somehow it felt like I was under orders now. I had barely twisted the key full circle before my friend burst in so forcefully the door slammed back against the inside wall.
    â€˜What the hell is this?’ Jairo was still at the table. He didn’t leave his seat to confront him, however, but to back away. My uncle had yet to hang the curtain again, which gave him a clear view of Alberto advancing on him with the gun in his hand. ‘Jesus Christ!’ He ripped off his glasses, as if they had just fogged on him. Tell me that isn’t real!’
    â€˜Sit down.’
    Ignoring the request, and panicked by this locomotive coming across the room, Jairo grabbed the roll of parcel tape and flung it at him. The roll hit Alberto in the face, but it was my uncle who shrank away as if he had taken the blow himself.
    â€˜Let’s talk this through sensibly. Put the gun down, my friend. I’m begging you!’
    â€˜Yeah? Begging is all you’re good for, little man.’
    By now my uncle had backed into the corner beside the window. He was clawing at the wall, looking for any way out. If Alberto was here to scare him some, he had done his job already.
    â€˜Please, Sonny,’ he cried, appealing to me now. ‘I’m sorry for what happened last night, really I am. I was a little drunk and I will never forgive myself, but please don’t let it come to this.
Please!
’
    Once again my uncle’s chest got the better of him, and he broke into a volley of coughs that sounded like sobbing. Alberto went closer and put a hand on his shoulder.
    â€˜Calm down,’ he ordered, and promptly slipped the muzzle of the gun inside his mouth. Immediately, my uncle stopped coughing and started whimpering instead. Just relax, Jairo, do you hear? Don’t cry. Don’t let yourself down. Be cool.’
    â€˜Alberto, cool it yourself!’ I wanted to haul him away, but it was plain that nothing would stop him