10
A Favor
Jack and Chandler entered Hamilton Park through the west gate. This was the side that bordered the projects, right where the main power lines entered town. The three-story-tall electric towers cut a wide green swath away from the park like a river of grass, stretching into the distance until it eventually wound its way north.
They walked past the old baseball diamond and the playground. The diamond had been abandoned by park maintenance years ago, and the playground was in no better shape. The V-shaped metal supports for the swings were still standing, but only a few rusted chains dangled down now. Overlooking it all, on a little hill, sat a single picnic table. The table afforded a three hundred and sixty degree view, making it the spot of choice for people who wanted to see who was coming.
Four men sat at the picnic table. Shirtless, with more tattoos than bare skin, the three who faced Jack and Chandler’s direction all had the same you’d-better-have-a-good-reason-for-being-here sneer on their faces. And as Jack and Chandler approached, they rose and swaggered forward. The fourth man, Victor, remained sitting with his back to them.
“This is an extremely stupid idea,” Chandler muttered to Jack. “When was the last time you talked to Victor, anyway?”
“When we played baseball.”
Chandler mashed his lips together. “That was in middle school.”
“And that was the last time I talked to him.”
Chandler’s nostrils flared.
As Jack scanned the men up ahead, he was grateful to have Chandler with him. “Thanks for coming.”
“Just ask him about Two Point and let’s get the heck out of here.”
The tallest of the three men walked forward and stopped in front of Jack. He looked like half the guys Jack just had seen in the prison’s exercise yard. The muscles in his chest flexed as he clenched and unclenched his hands.
“Whatcha want?” he asked, seemingly eager for a flippant answer as an excuse to fight. His mouth stayed open after he spoke, revealing a line of gold teeth.
“I’m Jack Stratton. I’m just here to talk to Victor.”
“Jack Stratton?” Victor got up and turned around.
It had been years since Jack had seen Victor up close. The thin, gangly kid Jack remembered bore little resemblance to this hardened man with lean muscles covered in tattoos.
“Hey, Victor. Long time. You got a minute?”
Victor strutted forward. From the bulge under his shirt, it was clear he was packing. Jack’s adrenaline surged and his pulse quickened as he realized how dangerous this was.
Victor stopped a couple of feet in front of Jack, crossed his arms, and tilted his head back. “What you want from me, little white Boy Scout?”
The other guys laughed.
Jack let the rip go. “A favor. You got a second?” Jack pointed with his thumb over to the old swing set. He didn’t want to talk to Victor in front of his crew.
Victor smoothed down the ends of his thin mustache, debating for a second. Jack hoped it was all an act to show who was in charge.
“I just need a favor,” Jack said.
Victor nodded to his posse and started walking. But he stopped when Chandler followed.
Chandler’s eyes went back and forth between Jack and Victor. Jack gave Chandler a quick nod, letting him know he wasn’t happy about the situation, but given the tenuous circumstances it was best to do whatever Victor wanted.
“I’ll wait here,” Chandler grumbled.
When they were out of earshot, Victor spoke. “Ask.” He eyed Jack suspiciously.
“You hear about J-Dog?”
“Hear about him? They pulled me in too when that lady went missing. Is that why he got arrested?”
“The cops talked to you?”
“Of course they talked to me,” Victor spat. “They know I’m in charge of Hamilton, and she worked near here. A fly farts in the park and they think I got something to do with it.” He crossed his arms, and the muscles in his forearms rippled the dragon tattoos that covered them. “I don’t talk to you since middle school and now you show up asking questions? I heard you wanna be a cop. You workin’ for ’em?”
Jack’s mind raced. This wasn’t how he hoped the conversation would go. It was breaking bad, and it looked as if it was about to get worse. “Aunt Haddie is friends with J-Dog’s mom,” he said. “I’m just helping out.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You wearin’ a wire?”
Without hesitation, Jack pulled his shirt off over his head.
“You really are a Boy Scout, huh?” Victor took out a cigarette. “Helpin’ your foster mom and savin’ little old ladies’ handbags?”