City of Saints & Thieves(19)

What will Michael do to me if I say no? I don’t care so much about dying, but what about Kiki? What about making Mama’s killer pay? None of that is happening while I’m stuck down here.

There is a rule for this moment, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. I don’t like this rule. It sticks in my throat. But it tells me in a low, persistent rumble, Too bad, Tiny Girl. You may not like the rules, but you still have to play by them.

? ? ?

Rule 10: If the stakes are high, play a long game.

Play a long, patient game.

? ? ?

I learned that from watching Bug Eye.

Bug Eye is different from the other Goondas. It’s what makes him Mr. Omoko’s right hand. I used to watch him because long after I’d figured out what motivated all the other guys, I still couldn’t put a finger on what made him tick. You have to know what Goondas want so you don’t become that thing. I’d figured out what Ketchup wanted my very first day. He got off on hurting people smaller and weaker than him. Simple. I never gave him the chance to hurt me again. But figuring out his brother was harder.

Bug Eye is the chillest cat you’ll ever spy. He never looked at me like the other Goondas did. He has girls when he wants, but he never looks at any of them. Not really. Not like he wants them. He doesn’t get a hard-on for cash either, or cars or fat gold chains. It’s like he sees through all of it and understands exactly what it’s really worth.

He doesn’t want money. He doesn’t want things. But it’s not that he doesn’t want. He wants. He wants in the same way I want my revenge. He’s hungry—starving to death—for it. And the it? What is it? I finally saw one day when Mr. Omoko came around.

Omoko stopped to talk to his best lieutenant, and finished the conversation by reaching out and actually patting Bug Eye on the head like you would a favorite dog. No one saw but me; no one was supposed to. Mr. Omoko wouldn’t have undermined his second in command in front of the rest of us. He just wanted to make his point. He might as well have said, See? This is power. You are close to it, but do not think for a moment that you have it. What you have, I have given you, and I will smile as I take it away.

Bug Eye didn’t flinch or slap his master’s hand away. That is why Bug Eye is different. I saw what Mr. Omoko overlooked, something familiar. The Goonda boss was looking for insubordination and didn’t find it, but he should have looked deeper. I saw it from far away, in the quick clench and release of Bug Eye’s hands, in the way he watched Mr. Omoko walk away and kept watching long after he was gone.

What Bug Eye wants became obvious to me that day. He wants something of Omoko’s, and only Omoko’s will do. It will be best if it’s taken violently. Mr. Omoko wears his crown lightly, like he doesn’t really care, but Bug Eye will cherish it, hold it as carefully as the head of a newborn baby. While he waits, Bug Eye will act like a good dog: loyal, devoted.

He trains Omoko’s troops to be bullies and thugs. He leads bloody raids through other gangs’ streets, expanding the Goonda empire. He sends the girls out to the corners and makes sure their earnings come back to him at the end of the night. He gives me names and addresses of homes and businesses to plunder. He dishes out punishment when we step out of line. If a Goonda starts getting ideas about who’s in charge, Bug Eye is the one who sets him straight: a chat usually does it, a reminder of other ankles chained to concrete blocks. Blocks dropped off the edges of piers.

Sharks love Bug Eye.

He does whatever Omoko tells him. He dirties his hands so the big boss doesn’t have to. He eats the scraps off the master’s table and never complains. He keeps his brother close. He knows family will have his back when the time comes.

Bug Eye is patiently waiting for exactly the right moment to bite.

? ? ?

So I think about the count, and Bug Eye, and Mama, and what sort of revenge I need, and what I’m willing to do to get it. And when Michael comes back, I am ready.





ELEVEN


If we do this, I want out of the torture chamber,” I say. “That’s first.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “You’re the only girl I know who thinks she can call shots while locked up. And it’s not a torture chamber.”

I raise an eyebrow back at him. “It’s not a five-star hotel room.”

Michael opens his mouth, but I’m already speaking. “Second thing: How long will it take to get the video?”

Michael avoids my eye. “I’m not sure. A couple of weeks?”

“You have five days.”

“Five! Why?”

“You asked if I can keep the data from being released. I can, but only temporarily. People are waiting for it. People you don’t want to make wait. Five days is generous.”

“Eight,” Michael grunts.

“I can ask for a week. But no promises.”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. But we work from here. You can’t go running off.”

“In the torture chamber?”

“Of course not. In the house.”

I recoil. “Are you serious? With your dad there? Absolutely not.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m just letting you walk out of here,” Michael says. “You’re staying here. You’ll be my guest.”

“Your ‘guest.’ Right. And how exactly are you going to explain me to your parents?”