Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The best time to run is when your opponent is distracted. If we have any chance of getting out of here alive, it’s now, while Gabriel holds the attention of the room with unyielding demand. Taking Charlie against his will won’t work. He weighs twice as much as me, and when he gets obstinate, he’s an unmovable, dead weight.
“Let’s get an ice cream,” I whisper in his ear, “but you have to come quietly.”
Charlie knows about being quiet. We practice it enough times when we hide from the mafia, pretending we’re not home.
Charlie gets up like I silently prayed he would and allows me to lead him to the door. I pinch my eyes shut and wait for someone to shout, grab us, shoot, or all three, but when I glance back Gabriel lifts a palm, and the bouncer steps aside for us to exit.
Outside, I suck in a breath of polluted air. Clutching my brother’s arm, I walk him back to our side of the tracks, which isn’t much better, but it’s all we have. He talks, and I let his voice soothe me, trying not to think. When we’re home, I’ll go over what happened. For now, I’m too preoccupied with lurking dangers.
At Three Sisters, I buy Charlie a cone with vanilla ice cream dunked in caramel, his favorite. It’s not until we round the corner of our building that trouble strikes again. Tiny leans in the entrance, smoking a joint. When he sees us, he straightens, takes a last drag, and flicks the butt into the gutter.
“Well, well.” He wipes his hands over his dreadlocks and saunters over. “Hello, sunshine. Tiny was looking for you.” There’s an edge to his voice. “Where were you?”
“Ice crea-cream,” Charlie says.
“Is that so?” Tiny stops short of me. He’s not Nigerian or Zimbabwean like most of the people on our block, but Zambian. His skinny frame towers over me, his black skin lost in the darkness of the night, except for the whites of his eyes and teeth. “You’ve got money to spoil your ol’ brother here, but not for Tiny’s tax?”
He calls himself the Tax Collector. He’s not the landlord, but he gathers ‘tax’ on the rent from everyone who lives in our building. He’s a mini-mafia within a bigger mafia, but dealing with him means I don’t have to deal with the bigger mafia, and he’s the lessor of two evils.
Putting his nose in my hair, he sniffs. “You smell like smoke. Club smoke. Who were you with?”
Tiny pretends he owns me. Mostly, he pretends I like him. In reality, he’s a coward, but he still has the power to hurt me. I know this from a split lip and blue eye.
“You’re dating now?”
“It’s none of your business.” Charlie’s key is not on the cord around his neck. I’ll have to ask Jerry about it later. I fish my key from my bag and hand it to Charlie. “Go up and lock the door.”
Charlie takes the key, but doesn’t move.
“Go on,” I urge. “I’ll be right up.”
“O–okay.” Charlie takes two steps and stops.
I give him an encouraging smile. “Quickly. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Tiny grabs hold of my hair. I close my eyes. Please, Charlie. Obey. I don’t want him to see this. When I lift my lashes, my brother is climbing the stairs on the side of the building.
“Got the money?” Tiny pulls on my ponytail.
The bond on our flat is fully paid. My parents paid cash for the property years ago before anyone could predict how crime and dilapidation would render their investment worthless.
“We don’t pay rent,” I bit out. This means nothing to Tiny, but I have to try. God knows why, but I try every time.
“You still owe.” He grins, flashing a row of straight teeth. “Tiny can’t let you stay without paying tax. What example will that be for the others? Give it up, Valentina.”
I freeze. “Don’t you dare say my name.”
He scoffs. “That’s right, because you’re my bitch.” He yanks on my hair. “Ain’t it so, bitch?”
“Go to hell.”
“Now, now. That’s no way to speak to Tiny.” He clicks his tongue. “Who’s gonna protect you if Tiny ain’t around?” He tilts his head. “Won’t ask you again. Where’s Tiny’s money?”
I swallow. “I’ll have it by the end of the month.”
“You know the rules. The fifteenth is payday.”
“Please, Tiny.” Tears burn at the back of my eyes. A cold weight presses on my heart.
In the middle of the dirty road, he pushes me down to my knees in the gravel, the stones digging into my skin. His eyes take on a feverish light as he unties the string of his sweatpants and lets them fall to his ankles.
“If you bite again, you’ll walk away with more than a shiner. This time, I’ll break your arm.”