The First Last Boy(12)

"I'm your friend, but I do have eyes, and that guy looks delicious." She  held up a low cut black tank top. "I feel like doing something  different, something so not vanilla. Borrow this?"

I waved my hand at her. "Go ahead."

Shelby took off her shirt and tossed it onto the bed then put on the  tank. She freed her hair from the band and bent over at the waist,  shaking her head and then flipped her hair back upright. "Does Ryan have  any brothers? Maybe Brooklyn's right and I should take a walk on the  wild side."

I thought for a second. "He does. Juvante and Roman and Clarke are the  foster brothers who live with him right now. Clarke is kind of a loser,  though. He's high half the time and the other half, he's drunk. Roman's  too young, but Ryan has some really hot older foster brothers who don't  live with him. Ryker, Zane and Cooper, but of the three of them, I'd  stay away from Cooper."

That piqued her interest. "Why Cooper?"

"I think he might be a little too wild for you."

"With Cooper all you'd get is meaningless sex with the kind of guy that  your mother definitely wouldn't approve of," Brooklyn said with a laugh.

"Then please, please introduce me." Shelby opened her purse and frowned. "Or maybe not. I don't have any condoms."

Brooklyn looked amused. "No worries. Guys from the wrong side of the  tracks are always prepared to put a sheath on the dagger." With the look  she gave me, I knew she was referring to Ryan.

Shelby unwrapped a chocolate bar she dug out of her purse and offered us  some. "You want to use my grandparents' vacation house to be with Ryan?  They hardly ever go. It's right across from the Huron River-you  remember it. You and Ryan could drive there."

I did remember that house. Shelby and I had spent a few weekends there  with her grandparents. The house was huge and gorgeous and there were  big skylights in all the bedrooms.

Shelby fished around for her keys. "They let me use it last month. I  think I still have the key. Here it is." She separated it from the key  ring and passed it over.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'll tell them I'm going to use it with some friends and they won't care."

"Are you sure?" Brooklyn asked with a hard look at me.

Of course I was sure. The episode at the garage and the way I'd felt  when Ryan had touched me had solidified my decision. He was the one and I  had no regrets at the thought of being with him. The key burned into  the palm of my hand like a talisman.         

     



 







RYAN



"How could you do this shit?" I asked.

"It's not a big deal." Clarke resented me being in his face. He stared  at me for a second, then dropped his gaze. "Why are you so jacked?" He  spat a circle of blood onto the ground and touched his busted lip with a  wince.

"It's not about me." I shoved him backward off the concrete block.  "Chanos threatened Tana, you stupid fuck." Chanos had done some pretty  evil shit and the thought of him even thinking about hurting Tana  resurrected a side of me I'd hoped to leave behind forever. A side that  was nothing but trouble. The same old urge to pound the hell out of  something rose up in me. I ran my hand through my hair, my head  spinning. I hated the guy I'd once been but I'd be whatever kind of  bastard I needed to be to keep Tana safe. There was never any question,  never any doubt that I would walk through the fires of hell doused in  gasoline for her and I would drag anyone down with me that I had to  take.

Juvante made a gimme motion at Clarke and Roman with his fingers. "Let me see the cash you have left."

Roman thrust his hands into his pocket and passed over a folded wad.  Clarke did the same and Juvante's mouth dropped after he finished  counting it. "Two grand? For a kilo? You spent the rest?"

"He only gave us five for all of it," Roman said.

"It's worth thirty-three at least." Juvante groaned in frustration.

Running my hand down my face, I walked a few steps away. I couldn't look  at Roman or Clarke without wanting to beat them into bloody stumps. I  turned back to face Roman. "Who's the he you're talking about?"

"The guy at the warehouse," Clarke mumbled.

"I warned him. I told Clarke it was a bad idea to take it." Roman rubbed his closely cropped hair, looking sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, but he's stupid and you're not," Juvante said. "Five for a  fucking kilo." He smacked Roman's shoulder. "You should've looked out  for your brother."

Roman tensed and I stepped between them. "What's the guy's name?"

"Rattoni."

"You believed the Rat? That guy's first baby words were a lie. Ah, man."  Juvante handed me the money. "Hold that. I'll be right back." He went  inside the house and when he returned, he was packing. If Mama Leena  knew he kept that in his room, she'd have his head on a platter. He  jerked his head at me. "Rat hangs at the crack house on Manor. C'mon."

Roman and Clarke made like they were going to go with us and I stopped them. "You idiots stay here before you get us killed."







The closer I drove to the crack house, the more desolate the area  became. The poverty, the despondency, was a way of life in some areas of  Caldwell. Crime didn't happen without a purpose here and that purpose  was survival. Those who looked down their noses at the young men  hustling to make a buck probably never experienced hunger gnawing like a  rat at their stomach. Probably never saw tears track down a kid's face  for the same reason. I'd been one of those kids.

I drove past the park with the broken down play equipment, past the pawn  shop, and the liquor stores dotting every other corner. Every other  spot in the road was a pothole big enough to blow a tire.

"Home sweet home." Juvante leaned back with a long exhale and his leg  jiggled nervously. "Never thought I'd be back in this neighborhood."

"Me either." The same ugliness of the streets lived in me and no matter  how far away I went I would always carry it in the lessons I'd learned  and the scars that I'd earned.

"Memories, man." He glanced at me. "You get out but they tag along."

"I know." I turned down a street that was full of half-vacant houses and parked the Charger in front of the crack house.

From the outside, at a distance, the house didn't look too bad, but the  closer we walked toward it, the uglier it became. The siding was gouged  in places and duct tape covered holes in the windows. Before we even  reached the front door, the stench from toilets that didn't work  assailed us and I fought the urge to gag.

The front door was half-open. I pushed it all the way open and we walked  in. Old magazines and cards were strewn on the floor among dozens of  beer cans. Several people in various stages of stupor were lying about  with a few more asleep with their faces on the stained carpet. The walls  were more holes than actual drywall and rat droppings created a thick  coating along the baseboards. On the trash-strewn kitchen counter a  half-naked couple made a feeble attempt to have sex but kept missing  each other.         

     



 

"When you're too stoned to fuck, you're too stoned," Juvante muttered, looking disgusted.

I looked over the group until I saw the guy I wanted. Skinny little guy  with a nervous twitch at the end of his nose. He had long greasy blond  hair slicked back into a ponytail and a meth mouth full of rotted teeth.  One arm was wrapped around a girl whose eyes were closed while drool  dripped from one corner of her lips.

We shoved our way through the bodies until we reached Rat. He looked up  at us and burped. The putrid scent of sour breath and unwashed body  greeted us.

"Damn." Juvante screwed up his face and waved his hand.

Rat's eyes went wide with recognition and he scrambled to his feet,  swaying back and forth. The girl fell over to one side without a sound.  "It was a joke man. I didn't think he'd fall for it. I was gonna give it  back but..."

"But..." I prompted.

"It's all gone," Rat said, not sounding a bit sorry. One side of his mouth lifted up like he was making an attempt to smile.

"You think it's funny stealing Chanos' shit? That's it. I'm gonna pop  his ass." Juvante flicked aside his shirt and exposed the handle of the  gun in his waistband. I knew Juvante wouldn't use it because my brother  hated violence as much as I did, but Rat didn't know that.

Holding both hands out, Rat kept his gaze glued on the gun and  stammered, "Give me two weeks. I swear on my mother's grave I'll get  every dime of the street value back to you."

"You had a mother?" Juvante asked.

"You know I'm good for it," Rat wheedled. "I'll talk to Chanos. I'll make it right, I swear."

"One week. Next Saturday. I'll be back then. If you don't show, I'll find you," I said.

Rat rubbed his hair and his brow furrowed. He scrubbed his chin. "I don't know man...one week...I can get maybe half that..."